If, like me, you revel in the bad rep your sign gets, or have ever got a Little Book of the Zodiac in your Christmas stocking, you probably have Co-Star downloaded on your phone. (I’m a Scorpio, or as many fans of astrology may describe me, an awful person.)
The algorithm-based astrology app has a following of over five million users and uses a combination of NASA data, professional astrologers and your exact birth chart to provide users with highly personalised daily horoscopes. This includes a list of three dos and don’ts for the day, a short piece of daily advice, recommendations of friends on Co-Star to avoid or meet up with, and long-term words of wisdom for the upcoming months.
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My dad would describe my sustained use of the app for the last two years as an inevitable consequence of my decision to do an arts degree, but that’s probably because he’s an Aries (ugh). Realistically, there’s something quite comforting about putting your faith in the stars when the entire world seems to be going to shit.
Having said this, Co-Star’s daily suggestions show an inclination towards the deranged (what do you mean, “do: tinfoil hats, don’t: bells and whistles”?!?) For your entertainment and my own humiliation, I decided to see if following Co-Star’s advice for a week really leads to a more spiritually enlightened life.
Day 1: ‘Face your past’
- DO: Playgrounds, Somersaults, B-Sides
- DON’T: Rulers, Old Sweater, Bad Habits
Fucking somersaults?? Just hours into my seven-day Co-Star challenge, the stars are already threatening to destroy my journalistic integrity. My joints have a nauseating habit of cracking in protest when I type too quickly, let alone while attempting any kind of gymnastics. I’m also 5’10, with a tendency to hold my above-average height with a Theresa May-like awkwardness that makes me look even lankier. I can say, with confidence, that I have never done a somersault in my life.
Connecting with my inner child by visiting a playground must suffice for now. An obstacle that the planets did not predict: It’s pissing it down. The sodden playground we visit looks more like a venue for underage drinking and pretending to smoke your first cig than a prime opportunity to connect with my inner child. But we move: The stars have spoken and I must respond.
In hindsight, the barren park was a blessing; nobody wants to watch a 21-year-old attempt to enjoy the monkey bars. After a while, my Bambi-on-ice self-consciousness melted away. Spinning until I nearly threw up on a plastic bowl released a child-like unhinged glee I didn’t know was there.
Day 2: ‘Try to get a reaction’
- DO: Redecorating, Permutations, New Wave
- DON’T: Stereotypes, Underestimation, Margins
Like most English Literature students, I dropped maths as soon as the opportunity presented itself. The word “permutations”, understandably, awakened my dormant, mathematical trauma, with visions of my 13-year-old self attempting a tear-stained homework sheet after throwing an age-inappropriate tantrum bubbling to the surface. But I’m not that girl anymore. I even (mentally!!) calculated a 15 percent tip while waitressing last week! Permutations, it’s over for you babe.
To embrace my “New Wave” instruction, I threw on my Specials tee shirt and found a This Is New Wave Spotify playlist. I was feeling cool, even – dare I say – edgy.
This feeling was swiftly crushed just two hours into my work shift by someone’s dad trying to be funny: “Nice t-shirt, I bet you only know ‘A Message to You Rudy’.”
Unfortunately, freelance writing has not propelled me to a Carrie Bradshaw level of success quite yet, and I will still trade my dignity for a tip. Despite the overwhelming urge to tell him to go and fuck himself, I opted for the safer: “Thank you sir! I really like their music, actually. How is the food for everyone?”
Arriving home too angry to continue with permutations, I decorate my clinically bare wall with some posters before heading out. This was possibly the only thing which felt even close to spiritual today.
Day 3: ‘Be as Honest as Possible’
- DO: Redecorating, Permutations, New Wave
- DON’T: Glossaries, Forums, PowerPoints
Co-Star updates its daily do’s and don’ts at midnight. At this hour, I was approximately seven vodka sodas deep on a fairly appalling night out… which explains why I was checking my Co-Star at 00:03 on the dancefloor.
Livid that permutations had appeared again, I decided to focus on the general “honesty” instruction. Spoiler: Alcohol makes this ten times easier! What, to the untrained eye, may look like slurring all my secrets into the ears of people I’d met once during freshers week was actually a diligent commitment to my article brief.
Unsurprisingly, I woke up in my flat with the fear, two minutes before my first lecture – except now my place smelled like a run-down pub (if you spilled Prazsky on my sofa last Wednesday, this is your cue to own up).
What would usually be a brisk and deceitful email explaining that “I can’t make today’s lecture because [insert minor ailment here]” has now been forbidden. I explained to the lecturer that my absence was not due to COVID symptoms, but a violent hangover and instructions from an app to “avoid PowerPoints”. I am yet to hear a response.
Day 4: ‘Are You Staying Well Within Your Groove?’
- DO: Comfort Food, Hot Shower, Movie Night
- DON’T: Howling, Self-Sabotage, Expect The Worst
Co-Star, if you’re reading this, these do’s are more like it! While a hot shower wasn’t possible as my flatmate got to the bathroom first, a lukewarm wash and sushi was bliss compared to uncomfortable honesty and trauma-triggering maths.
Day 5: ‘Be Vocal’
- DO: Announcements, Personal Ads, Sunscreen
- DON’T: Targeted Ads, Accusations, Spam
Sunscreen was easy. I already do everything Rihanna tells me to, so SPF on the daily – as she does – is a must. “Personal Ads”, however, was not so straightforward.
Maybe it’s a general lack of confidence, or maybe it’s because I wasn’t born in LA – either way, I find any form of self-promotion deeply uncomfortable. Choosing pictures for a Hinge profile or writing a job application is distressing. Self-deprecation is easier, a lot less awkward, and probably the reason I’m writing this article.
Again, the stars have been painfully clear. Sticking with the theme of the week, I took to Grafton Street – Ireland’s busiest shopping area – with a horoscope-themed personal ad in a feeble attempt to find love.
After some puzzled looks and strangers filming me for the enjoyment of their private Snapchat story, I realised that I was not getting the passionate response I was after. Hard evidence that Scorpios really are the most hated sign. This experience was nothing short of degrading.
Day 6: ‘Are You Looking for Abstraction?’
- DO: Strangers, Warm Beverages, Cartwheels
- DON’T: Excuses, Showing up late, unfollowing
@Co-Star, is my lack of athleticism a joke to you? Warm beverages I can always appreciate, but issuing two gymnastic instructions in one week feels like you’re mocking me.
Luckily, cartwheels are less life-threatening to learn than somersaults. As my aforementioned lankiness prevented me from practicing inside, I killed two birds with one stone by attempting cartwheels in front of strangers on a busy street.
For better or worse, this week has diminished my sense of personal shame. Cartwheels (or technically half-cartwheels?) were a breeze after looking for love on Grafton Street. I even got a round of applause from one passing group… Beijing 2022, here I come.
Day 7: ‘Try a Longer Term Perspective’
- DO: Multiple Choice, Lava Lamps, Telephone
- DON’T: Scrolling, Limericks, Sceptics Corner
- Conspire with Elena
At last, an instruction to “conspire” with somebody in the same city as me! Instead of incriminating myself by describing what crimes we conspired to commit, here’s a picture of it instead.
No scrolling proved slightly harder. Despite deleting Instagram for the day, I found myself repeatedly tapping the empty space it once occupied on my home screen like a Labrador whining at an empty dog bowl. Turns out I’m nothing more than a slave to technology. Thanks to this, my sense of shame is well and truly back.
There’s no denying that Co-Star’s recommendations this week have been unhinged. But after a week of swallowing my pride, I’ve ended each day rejuvenated (albeit mortified) from stepping out of my comfort zone. Maybe it’s a reflection of the increasingly messed up world we live in, but handing the contents of my week over to the planets did provide an element of tranquillity at times. I’m still going to wait a few days before showing my face on Grafton Street again. Every ego – even a Scorpio’s – has its limits.
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Lauren Levis, who died after taking iboga at the Soul Centro retreat in 2024. (Photo courtesy of the Levis family)
