Samsung Galaxy Ring review: keeping you in Samsung’s orbit

Samsung’s Galaxy Ring is not, technically speaking, revolutionary. Smart rings of all sorts have been offering discreet health tracking since 2015. Your smartwatch tracks everything a smart ring can and, in most cases, more. Even so, there’s no denying that the $399.99 Galaxy Ring is the most exciting thing to happen to smart rings in the last five years. Why?

Until now, smart rings have pretty much been synonymous with the Oura Ring. That’s the one you might’ve seen on Kim Kardashian, Jack Dorsey, Jennifer Aniston, and Prince Harry. It’s the one that got all the attention at the height of the covid-19 pandemic thanks to collaborations with the NBA and scientific researchers. People like smart rings like the Oura Ring because, in some ways, they are the more convenient 24/7 health and fitness trackers. But despite that success, Oura isn’t a household name. 

Samsung’s decision to make a smart ring gives legitimacy to a niche wearable — and if the demand is there, that opens the door for Apple and Google to potentially jump on the bandwagon. But after spending some time with the Galaxy Ring, I wouldn’t say that Samsung’s completely upended the smart ring category. Rather, I’d say it’s proposing that it’s the ideal accessory for your other gadgets. 

There’s one thing the Galaxy Ring shares with every other smart ring I’ve tested: no one will notice you’re wearing it. I say that with full confidence because, these days, I’m decked out like a mafia don wearing six smart rings and five regular rings. I’ve gone to family events, parties, the grocery store, and the office. Only one person has ever asked if any of my rings were smart rings. Even colleagues who know I’m actively testing the Galaxy Ring were unable to distinguish it from the rest. 

You can take that as a good or bad thing. Good, because it means the Galaxy Ring is discreet and versatile. The nondescript design fits any wardrobe and is appropriate for any occasion. Bad, because, for $400, you just bought a piece of high-tech jewelry that doesn’t necessarily feel quite so luxe.

While I’d love more visual flair, comfort is a must with wearables. And of all the smart rings I’ve worn, the Galaxy Ring is the thinnest and most comfortable. Its dimensions are smaller than most smart rings at 7mm wide and 2.6mm thick, but the concave shape also visually creates a slimming effect. The ring’s concavity also means the sides don’t protrude into your neighboring fingers — a problem I’ve had with other smart rings. It’s a subtle tweak, but I notice it’s much more comfortable whenever I make a fist or grab a dumbbell. 

While the Galaxy Ring is noticeably bigger than my regular rings, the bigger size doesn’t translate to a heavier ring. The Galaxy Ring weighs between 2.3 and 3g, depending on the size. My size 9 ring weighs 2.7g, which is roughly on par with my engagement ring.

Apart from the ring itself, Samsung cleverly opted for a charging case, which I much prefer to the puck-shaped dock Oura and Ultrahuman use. For one, it keeps the ring secure while charging. I can’t tell you the number of times my cats have knocked the Oura Ring charger off my nightstand, sending me on a hunt under the bed for the ring itself. Even if you don’t have demon cats, a case is much easier to stash in a bag, and you can charge on the go. The only thing I dislike is that the case only holds 1.5 times the charge. Most other charging cases hold at least two charges.

Judging by hardware alone, I’d say the Galaxy Ring is the best smart ring I’ve tested. Unfortunately for Samsung, hardware is only half of the equation. 

Like the Oura Ring, the Galaxy Ring is primarily a health tracker. You can track your sleep, blood oxygen, skin temperature, heart rate metrics, and activities. Based on that data, you can get a daily sleep score, access to sleep coaching, and a new Energy Score that parses how well you’ve recovered overnight and whether you should push yourself or take it easy. As far as more advanced health tracking goes, you’re limited to high and low heart rate notifications. FDA-cleared sleep apnea detection and irregular heart rhythm notifications are exclusive to the Galaxy Watches.

As a sleep tracker, the Galaxy Ring is decent. The data I got about my sleep stages was roughly similar to the Oura Ring, which studies have shown is about 79 percent as accurate as the gold standard polysomnography lab test. However, as in the past, Samsung’s blood oxygen data is wonky. My nightly averages ranged from the low 80s to the high 90s. Anything in the low 80s is a reason to go to the ER, so I chalk this up to me being a side sleeper — a known obstacle for accurate blood oxygen readings on wearables.

The new Energy Score is also broadly accurate, though the AI-powered insights for it are hit or miss. After a punishing long run in 90-degree heat, my Energy Score dipped 18 points the next day. I was told I needed to rest. That night, I went to bed at 8:30PM for a blessed nine hours of sleep, and voila — my score jumped 16 points. Except I was also told my sleep was compromised and to stop drinking alcohol or late-night eating to ensure quality sleep. I don’t drink and my last meal was at 6:45PM. 

Activity tracking is also a mixed bag. My daily overall step count was fine, if a bit inflated by a couple hundred steps compared to my Apple Watch Ultra 2. That’s to be expected with smart rings, however. Heart rate data also roughly correlated for sleep and walks. Running is where the Ring fumbled. The other day, I went on a two-mile run. The Galaxy Ring, which autorecorded the workout, reported a 30-minute duration, 2.37-mile distance, a 15-minute, 16-second pace, and an average heart rate of 125 beats per minute. The Galaxy Watch Ultra recorded a more accurate duration of 24 minutes, a 2.05-mile distance, an 11-minute, 54-second pace, and an average heart rate of 162bpm. 

That was the most egregious example, but all of my Galaxy Ring-recorded runs were wildly off for pace and average heart rate. This is likely because I relied on autorecording for runs and walks instead of manually starting a workout on my phone. However, the whole point of a smart ring for health tracking is to be as unobtrusive as possible. If I wanted to manually start every exercise, a smartwatch is a much better option. For instance, I take weekly Pilates classes where phones are banned inside the studio. If all I had was the Galaxy Ring, I’d have to manually start the workout on my phone before entering the studio. With a smartwatch, I can start recording inside the studio when class actually begins.

All of this can be overlooked if all you want is a big-picture idea of your activity and sleep. But if you want more granular workout data, you’re going to need a smartwatch, too.

There’s no point in beating around the bush. The Galaxy Ring is made with Samsung users in mind. You can use it with a non-Samsung Android phone, provided it supports the Samsung Health app. You just won’t get everything the ring is capable of.

For example, if you have a Galaxy phone, you can use Samsung Find to make the ring’s LED lights flash while you dig between couch cushions. Tough noogies if you have any other phone. Likewise, insights for the new Energy Score feature aren’t available on non-Galaxy phones. The cool double pinch gesture, where you can use the Galaxy Ring to control your phone’s camera or dismiss alarms? That’s a Z Flip 6 or Z Fold 6 exclusive right now. (I was told at a hands-on event that it’ll be coming soon to the S24, but it’s not available as of this writing.)

You can really see this ecosystem bias in action with battery life. When you use the ring on its own, you get between six and seven days of battery life. (Six days for ring sizes 5–11 and seven for sizes 12–13.) When you use it with a Galaxy Watch, you can stretch that out by an extra 30 percent. 

This is because the Samsung Health app can prioritize which device’s sensors to pull data from. If your Galaxy Watch battery is low and you plop it on the charger, it’ll pull data from the Galaxy Ring. Conversely, if your Galaxy Watch is better suited toward capturing exercise data, the Galaxy Ring’s sensors take a back seat. That helps optimize battery life. 

That extra 30 percent makes a big difference. Most of the other smart rings I’ve tested need to be charged every two to four days. In the 12 days I’ve been testing the Galaxy Ring, I’ve had to charge it once at the 7.5-day mark — about 36-ish hours longer than my ring’s six-day estimate. For example, I left the Galaxy Watch off one night and the 24-hour drain amounted to 22 percent. With the Galaxy Watch on, I average about 15 percent per day. I’ll have to do further testing to see how the battery degrades over time. But so far, color me impressed.

All of this perfectly captures why the Galaxy Ring isn’t really a device made to be used on its own. Its full potential requires other Samsung products. You’ll have an easier, more accurate health tracking experience when you use it with a Galaxy Watch. You’ll get better battery life if you use it with a Galaxy Watch. You’ll get more features if you use it with a Galaxy phone. 

In other words, it’s less of a Galaxy Watch alternative — it’s an accessory for it. 

If the Galaxy Ring cost $250, I’d say Samsung was a diabolical genius company. But at $400, it’s asking a lot for what amounts to a secondary device for your smartwatch. It’d be smart if Samsung offered Galaxy Watch and Ring bundles to bring the overall cost down, but so far, that’s not the case. At least there’s no additional monthly subscription, as with the Oura Ring. But right now, there’s no real reason to pick the Galaxy Ring over the cheaper Ultrahuman Ring Air unless you’re already ensconced in the Galaxy ecosystem. 

Ultimately, I don’t think Samsung ever intended on making a smart ring that’s good for everyone. Rather, I think the Galaxy Ring is a test to see whether there’s an appetite for this kind of multiwearable ecosystem — and whether its most loyal customers will buy in. That remains to be seen, but if successful? I think we’re in for a whole new wearable era.

Photography by Victoria Song / The Verge