Want to know your future? There’s an astrology app (or several) for that

When you think of astrology, you probably think of a maddeningly vague prediction in the back of your sister’s Dolly magazine, or the inane conversation you have while you drive your weird auntie home after she’s had too many wines. But think again. These days, there are numerous apps that allow you to punch in your birthdate, time and location to receive a novella-length report on your chart placements and what they mean for your personality, career and social life. For free!

Foresight is an alluring concept. Wouldn’t it be nice if someone had suggested that you invest in Amazon early on, or warned you about a freak rainstorm before you left the house in a white dress, or told you it wasn’t going to work out with your ex before you sank eight months of tears and therapy into an emotionally unavailable dumpster-fire?

Astrology apps are doing a bumper trade. Credit: iStock

For most, fortune-telling is little more than fantasy. Sure, some of us got a voucher for a session with a psychic for our recent birthday and only pretended to take it as a joke, but we begrudgingly accept that the future is out of our hands. Maybe that’s why astrology is taken with a grain of salt and a snort of laughter: it seems impossible that anyone would actually buy into this stuff.

Like so many harmless hobbies predominantly enjoyed by women, there’s more to it than you think, and it doesn’t deserve the derision it gets.

We call astrology a new age belief, but there’s nothing new about it. It emerged at a similar point in history to most major religions, and both have informed the beliefs and actions of millions. People love looking at stars, and – despite what the repressed sarcastic teenager inside us says – being told what to do.

Periods of stress prompt us to seek greater meaning. A break-up, an ill family member, or edging towards a milestone age despite still feeling like an infant … sometimes you’re desperate enough to ask “Why?” and actually look for an answer.

Illustration: Robin Cowcher. Credit:

Just because we no longer connect with organised religion (see recent census data) doesn’t mean we’ve shed the need for community or guidance. We still want to hang out with people like us, blame someone for our problems, and believe that someone, somewhere, has a plan for us.

When an app tells you that you are experiencing a period of significant change designed to test your strength and prove your resilience, it’s heartening. It gives you a sense of control in a chaotic time. “Yeah man,” you say, “I’m super resilient. Hold my beer” and it makes the work ahead of you less terrifying. It’s a bespoke challenge from the universe, and you’ve already got the tools you need to win.

Consider astrology not as fortune-telling but a thought exercise. Less, “Beware a dark-haired man” (unless he’s Harry Styles), more “How much importance do you place on external validation?”

Maybe it’s not that serious, and any spiritual guidance you receive from a free app is garbage. I guarantee it was written by an unpaid intern whose overwhelmed supervisor told them to write 50 horoscopes to keep them busy for a few hours, then spammed it out to their subscribers, who took it as gospel.

If my horoscope app tells me to buy a new outfit, I’m heading to The Iconic. If it says that all love songs on the radio were secretly written about me, I’m not going to argue.

There are ads for house-shares that ban Capricorns from applying, but is that bigotry, or is it advertising the kind of people who live there? Is it discrimination, or are they doing everyone a favour?

Your belief in it can be little more than something to take the edge off a tedious week. Unlike the soapbox preacher outside Flinders Street Station, no one is asking you to repent the mortal sin of being born a Scorpio. It’s not a set of rules, but an offering of potential answers.

Plus, it’s fun! You probably fought with your partner because Mercury, the ruler of communication, was in retrograde. I was late for work today because my Mars in Leo prohibits me from leaving the house with uneven eyeliner wings.

And if you think it’s all nonsense cooked up by kooky charlatans scamming desperate people, and I’ve needlessly pushed them towards false hope, well, don’t blame me. I’m a Gemini.

Find out the next TV, streaming series and movies to add to your must-sees. Get The Watchlist delivered every Thursday.