When I first got an annoying bright red message instructing me to try Gmail’s new priority inbox, I ignored it. A few minutes later, anxious to get rid of the aforementioned bright red message that just wouldn’t leave me alone, I enabled it.
At first I was hesitant to continue using it; just when I was ready to flick the "never ever use this thing. Ever." option, I thought it might be worth checking out settings.
Boy was I right! While Gmail only offers some pretty basic customization, what it does offer is very powerful. You can sort your priority inbox to display up to three levels before all of the other messages, including ‘important’ messages, all unread messages, starred messages, important and unread, important and read, or just choose specific labels to filter by.
Being someone who frequently sends reminder emails, this is great; it’s a very convenient filter for messages that are important, even when not recent, and seems to be quite clever (though I’m still to test this on further incoming emails, I think it sorts them effectively from the few that I’ve already marked as important).
So, crux of the matter: if you use Gmail, go ahead and enable their Priority Inbox. I don’t think you will be disappointed.
If you’re still hesitant, go ahead and check out their rather amusing video:
… now if only I could just stop the word "priority" from cluttering up my tab bar….


Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’ every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.









