Reflecting on Smart Glasses, Surveillance, and the Self - in my Toddler Mom Era

The woman looks ordinary at first glance: just another Londoner in her mid-thirties, wearing Ray-Bans and trainers on a sunny Bank Holiday Monday. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she's trying not to spill her iced coffee as her toddler excitedly pulls on her elbow.

But then you notice something strange.

Did her sunglasses just flash a light at you?

Meta’s Ray-Ban Sunglasses are smart glasses with cameras nestled discreetly in the frame, with a rather subtle LED light that softly blinks when capturing footage. With a simple tap to the rim or a quiet voice command, the wearer can take a photo or video, listen to music, utilise some basic AI assistant functionality, and make calls and send messages - all without ever reaching for their phone. In this post, I reflect on a sunny morning at the park with my son, and a tangle of questions about privacy, presence, and the strange feeling of seeing the world (and myself) through someone else’s lens...

Over the weekend my husband and I took our almost three-year-old son to Greenwich Park, and like many parents, I couldn’t resist the urge to take a few snapshots of our toddler in his full, chaotic glory. Dirt on his knees, remnants of babyccino on his chin, he clambered up the "pirate ship" and wanted "Captain Mommy" to come along for the adventure. And for once, I wasn’t fumbling with my phone.

As someone who’s tried really hard to keep screens in their place - especially around our son - it felt like a small win. To this day, my husband and I have never let Hugo watch videos on our tablets or phones. However, this isn't because of some rigid screen-free philosophy - we watch telly at home (so, so much Gigantosaurus...)! But we’ve made a conscious effort to keep mobile screens out of our day-to-day life when we're out and about (even on trains, even on Transatlantic flights). Boredom is part of that, too: learning to look around, to wait, to wonder. That’s the logic behind our “no phones on the go” rule - a quiet attempt to preserve his presence in the world as it is, not just as it’s mediated.

So for a moment, I told myself I’d found a balance: I wasn’t scrolling or using my phone - hooray! - and yet I was still able to take photos. However, when I caught my reflection in a shop window just a short while later, I started to feel the contradiction.

I just gently touched the side of my sunglasses to take this photo - the image quality is fairly decent.

There I was, someone who spends her days thinking and writing about technology law, wearing a device that quietly complicates it. Had it really become so easy to see things through this lens designed by the very companies I usually scrutinise? (Literally, and figuratively!) Did I even know, really, where the line was? And even if I wasn’t holding up a phone anymore, did that actually mean I was more present - or was I actively integrating myself into the very future I spend so much time worrying about?

Smart glasses are designed to feel natural - no rectangular prism through which you view the world around you. But with that seamlessness comes a blurring of boundaries of what’s visible, what’s registered, and what’s been meaningfully consented (and connected) to. And that’s before we even get to the implications of syncing these devices with socials like Instagram and Facebook...

The LED light flashes when the camera is in use. But is it noticable enough?

Although the glasses look ordinary, in the corner of the left lens sits a 12MP ultra-wide camera for HD photos and video, which will amost certainly escape notice unless you know exactly what to look for. The LED indicator is meant to signal recording, but in daylight it’s easily missed, and this is one of several issues privacy experts have raised. Not long after Facebook released its first iteration of the glasses in 2021 (then called "Ray-Ban Stories") the Irish and Italian data regulators argued that the LED was not a sufficient or reliable indicator of recording, especially in busy public settings. The design choice that makes these glasses suitable from a fashion perspective is also what complicates the ethics - and that discomfort I felt later? It lingers, still. Perhaps that's why I'm writing this post.

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What Does the Law Say? (And Is It Enough?)

As both a lawyer and a parent, I live with this internal split-screen: part of me thinks, “wow, this is cool!” while part of me mutters, “this may be technically legal, but...”

Under UK GDPR, our first port of call is the so-called household exemption. Simply put, if you’re taking photos or videos purely for personal use (family memories, private documentation) you’re typically outside the scope of data protection law. In such cases, you’re not deemed to be a data controller, and you don’t need to post privacy notices around the playground! The law makes space for ordinary life.

Personal data processed in the course of a purely personal or household activity, with no connection to a professional or commercial activity, is outside the UK GDPR’s scope. This means that if you only use personal data for such things as writing to friends and family or taking pictures for your own enjoyment, you are not subject to the UK GDPR. - ICO Guidance

But - and this is a meaningful “but” - that exemption is narrow. The moment those recordings are used beyond purely personal purposes, data protection obligations may kick in. What might edge things over the line? It could mean uploading a video to social media with open privacy settings, or compiling clips into a creative project. Capturing others systematically or intrusively - even for ostensibly personal purposes - can also be enough to trigger legal obligations. Take for example the CJEU’s 2014 decision in František Ryneš v Úřad pro ochranu osobních údajů. In that case, a concerned homeowner installed a security camera that recorded the street outside his house. The footage was stored continuously, and although his aim was to protect his family and property, the court found that the setup still processed personal data of passers-by in way that fell under enhanced obligations. In practice, this meant that the homeowner was bound to follow data protection rules just as any other organisation would, to include protecting the rights of those passers-by. Amongst other things, these rights include notifying the individuals that their personal data is being captured, and in some situations, requiring that consent be obtained in the first instance.

The Ryneš case is more than a decade old but the logic is still valid: if I’m wearing smart glasses in a public park and recording not just my child but other clearly identifiable people around us, my role could shift from "private user" to "data controller who has to follow GDPR rules". Even if one's motives are benign, the law looks at effect. So if you publish that footage or use it in a semi-professional context, even a blog or advocacy campaign, you may well be liable.

The case doubles as a charging dock.

Another exemption worth considering applies when personal data is processed for journalistic, academic, artistic, or literary purposes. Under Article 85 of the UK GDPR (and its EU equivalent), data protection rights must be balanced with the right to freedom of expression and information. This exemption isn’t limited to professional journalists or artists; what matters is the purpose of the processing. If the intention is genuinely expressive — to contribute to public debate, creative reflection, or commentary on the human experience — the exemption may apply.

The activity must be carried out "with a view to the publication of some journalistic, academic, artistic or literary material" and "you reasonably believe that the publication of the material would be in the public interest". - ICO Guidance

Of course, it’s not a blanket protection. The courts and regulators still expect the use of personal data to be necessary and proportionate, and core data protection principles (like fairness and data minimisation) remain relevant. Whether a blog post like this one would qualify depends on factors like context, intent, and how the data is handled, but the very existence of this carve-out reflects the law’s ongoing attempt to balance rights with reality: the right to be let alone, and the right to record, reflect, and share the world we move through.

With the exception of the small camera next to the Ray-Ban logo, there are no visible signs indicating that these are actually smart glasses.

The only Meta marking is the very small 'infinity symbol' logo (∞), on the inside of the right hinge.

Smart Glasses Etiquette (or, how not to be a creep)

If smart glasses are here to stay—and I think they are—we need new social etiquette. Here’s what I’ve landed on so far:

1. Tell people. If I’m talking with someone or around children, I’ll take off my sunglasses unless I have a legit need to use them as sunglasses. If they stay on, I’ll be extremely careful about what I’m capturing, and how. If I’m speaking with someone, I’ll mention that my glasses can record, and let them know I won’t ever do so unless they first say I can. It might feel awkward at first, but I’d rather be the one who brings it up instead of having someone ask, “errr, what’s that button thing on your sunglasses?” halfway through our conversation. Transparency builds trust. (Gosh, maybe I need my own Kelsey Sunglasses Privacy Notice to send to people via WhatsApp. Wouldn’t the ICO love that?)

2. Let others opt in — actively. If filming in a group or social setting, I'd offer others a heads-up before the recording starts. Something as simple as “I’m trying out these smart glasses, do you mind if I record for a sec?” goes a long way. It gives people agency, and avoids putting them in a position where they feel surveilled after the fact — when the only real option is to feel uncomfortable or ask me to delete it.

3. Keep the LED visible. Some people may find it tempting to mod or tape over the light, but if someone does that, I think the social contract breaks. That light, however small, is the minimum notice we’ve got right now.

4. Use them sparringly. One of the appeals of smart glasses is how easy they make it to capture spontaneous moments — but that ease can also lead to overuse. I want to make sure that I always first consider, "Is this a moment I really need to keep, or can I just live it?" As with anything tech-related, the less we default to "record and/or share" mode, the more intentional (and respectful) our use is likely to be.

5. Be guided by context, not just law. Even if it was technically okay from a legal perspective, I would never wear the glasses in schools, clinics, or intimate spaces. In any event, a memory you carry in your body is sometimes more meaningful than one stored on a chip or cloud (or whatever Zuckerberg comes up with next).

Hugo's camera of choice is a wooden one from Janod, complete with a kaleidoscope viewfinder! (And yes, I really did take this photo with my Instax Polaroid, which he also loves...)

Reskinned Realities // SXSW London

If today’s smart glasses let us record the world around us, what will tomorrow’s do to reshape it? This is the idea I’ll be exploring at SXSW London next month, where I’m joining a panel titled Reskinned Alive: How Will AI and XR Reimagine Human Identity?

“Reskinning” in this context means altering how people appear visually, in real time, through a combination of extended reality (XR) and AI. The idea is that our faces, bodies, even our movements, could be filtered or adjusted by someone else’s device. As an expert in publicity law, I think about this a lot. Not just because it’s where the tech is headed, but because it changes something fundamental about how we relate to one another.

What does it mean to be seen, if the person seeing you might be seeing a version of you you didn’t choose? And what happens to shared reality when the visuals don’t match—when I look at you and see one thing, and someone else sees another? Do I get a say in that? Do I have a right to remain visually intact—to not be “remixed” in someone else’s field of vision? I don’t know, but questions like these are a natural extension of the unease I felt in Greenwich Park.

If any of this resonates, consider this your invitation to join me at Rich Mix (Shoreditch, London) on Thursday 5 June at 11:20am. Bring your glasses, smart or otherwise, and let's try to make some sense of this together, before the filters become the default, and the world we see isn’t quite the one we share.