Hey – it’s Fiona!
Adaptive interfaces are one of those ideas that sound magical in theory. The product reshapes itself around you, hiding what you don’t need, surfacing what you do. But there’s a catch: if you bend too far, you break trust.
When “helpful” becomes harmful
A founder told me about an AI-powered checkout they tested. Returning customers skipped straight to “Confirm order.” New customers saw the full flow with shipping details and upsells.
It seemed brilliant… until someone wanted to edit their address and couldn’t. The option had been hidden by the adaptive logic. In that moment, “smart” felt manipulative.
That’s the paradox. The same adaptation that delights in one context can frustrate in another.
Why this matters now
Interfaces are no longer fixed. With AI in the loop, they’re becoming living systems. This isn’t just a design fad, it’s a fundamental change in how people (and agents) experience products.
In SaaS, dashboards are beginning to reorganise themselves around tasks rather than static layouts.
In e-commerce, flows are adapting based on whether the visitor is a human browsing or an agent buying on their behalf.
In education, learning platforms adjust the sequence of lessons depending on progress and behaviour.
For users, this can feel seamless. For teams, it’s a design headache. If every screen can morph, how do you test, document, and maintain it?
Stable vs flexible zones
One way to bring order to the chaos is to map your product into stable and flexible zones.
Stable zones are your foundations. Navigation, pricing, legal terms, “Pay now.” These should never surprise people. If they change from one visit to the next, you lose predictability, and predictability is the bedrock of trust.
Flexible zones are where adaptation adds value:
Recommendations that shift with context.
Content order that reshuffles depending on what’s most relevant.
Helper text that changes tone depending on whether a human or an AI agent is consuming it.
Think of it as writing the rules of the system, not just the screens. You’re deciding not just what things look like, but what is sacred and what can flex safely.
It’s easy to get caught up in the excitement. But adaptive interfaces come with risks that don’t get enough airtime.
Loss of predictability: If the checkout looks different today than yesterday, people may doubt whether they’re in the right place.
Over-personalisation: Sometimes users want to see options outside their usual pattern. If the system hides them, it feels limiting.
Bias reinforcement: If an interface adapts based only on past behaviour, it risks hard-coding stereotypes and inequalities into the product.
Cognitive load: Interfaces that change too often force people to relearn the basics every time they return.
These risks don’t mean “don’t adapt.” They mean adapt with care.
Don’t forget the agents
Humans aren’t the only audience here. AI agents are also parsing your product. If your adaptive logic hides or removes essential facts, those agents may never see them and you may not make it into their shortlist.
That’s why adaptive design needs two lenses. Humans want fluidity that feels contextual. Agents want stability and machine-readable facts they can rely on. The best products deliver both.
Try this this week
Take one flow in your product (e.g. checkout, sign-up, dashboard) and ask yourself:
What must never move?
What could flex to help?
If an AI agent saw the flexed version, would it still get the essentials?
Draw that line between stable and flexible, and you’ve just created your first adaptive interface map!
Why I’m excited about this
At first glance, adaptive design feels messy. But so did the move from desktop to mobile. Once we embraced it, whole new possibilities opened up.
I see adaptive interfaces as the next frontier. They force us to design not just layouts but systems of rules. They challenge us to balance predictability with flexibility. And they push us to think about two very different audiences — humans who crave context and agents that demand consistency.
Get it right, and your product stops being a static object. It becomes something closer to a living environment — responsive, contextual, and trusted by both people and machines.
The art of adaptive design isn’t making everything flexible. It’s knowing what should never move.
Until next week, I’d love to hear your thoughts:
Where do you think adaptation adds value, and where should it never interfere?
Hit reply and let me know!
Talk soon,
Fiona
Fiona Burns
Work with me
Alongside writing Beyond the Screen, I help founders and product teams design digital products their users (and AI agents) can’t ignore.
That might mean validating an early idea, shaping the first version of a marketplace, or redesigning a website so it’s easier for both people and machines to understand.
If you’re building something new and need UX/UI support, head over to my website to see how we could work together.