Digital wallets won the payments war. By mid-2025, around 65% of US adults used them, accounting for 39% of e-commerce and 16% of in-store transactions.
Apple Pay and PayPal are boring infrastructure now, the default way millions move money without thinking about it.
For comparison, 75% and 64% say the same about traditional digital wallets. The gap is not marginal, but is structural. Most Americans have never seen a Web3 wallet in real life, and this week saw two direct attempts to close that gap.
Both borrow heavily from mainstream finance UX, high-yield savings accounts, KYC-verified aliases, and both bet that making DeFi feel less foreign will pull in the wallet-curious majority still sitting on the sidelines.
The question is whether better UX alone can move a 13% intuitiveness score, or whether the problem runs deeper than interface polish and headline yields.
The Mercuryo data shows wallets stratified by income and familiarity. More than half of Americans earning over $100,000 now own crypto, compared with roughly one in four earning under $40,000.
Higher earners are nearly three times more likely to use self-custody wallets. Lower-income users cluster in transactional corridors, such as remittance corridors and Bitcoin ATMs, where fees can reach 15% to 20%.
The researchers frame this as crypto quietly entrenching inequality rather than solving it.
That skew matters because it reveals Web3 wallets as specialized tools for the affluent and technically confident, not mass-market infrastructure.
Meanwhile, digital wallets crossed into the mainstream by doing the opposite: they abstracted away complexity, required no new mental model, and plugged directly into existing bank accounts and cards.
The adoption ceiling is not about awareness. Crypto ownership has risen steadily. The ceiling is about every day fit. Only 16% of respondents have ever witnessed a Web3 wallet transaction in person, and many describe addresses and seed phrases as clunky and anxiety-inducing.
It is not possible to normalize something that still feels like a subculture ritual.
Aave’s new app tries to fix this by hiding the protocol entirely. The iOS app positions itself as a retail savings product paying up to 9% APY through a mix of base yield and task-based bonuses for identity verification, auto-savings, and referrals.
The marketing explicitly compares this to traditional savings: US accounts average roughly 0.4% APY, while high-yield accounts cluster in the 3%-4% range.
Independent banking data confirms that top high-yield savings rates sit around 4% to 5%, while the broader average is closer to 0.2%.
Aave also promises up to $1 million in balance protection, marketed as coverage far above the FDIC’s $250,000 cap.
Follow-up reporting clarifies this is commercial insurance specific to the custodial app, not FDIC deposit insurance or Aave’s on-chain safety module, and the provider remains undisclosed.
Technically, users do not control keys. Deposits sit in ERC-4337 smart accounts managed by an Aave guardian multisig, with passkeys and session keys abstracting away seed phrases entirely.
That architecture lets Aave strip out the “scary” parts, gas, contract interaction, private-key custody, and deliver instant withdrawals, support for over 12,000 banks and cards, and a UI that looks identical to a fintech savings app.
Users see projected earnings, recurring deposits, and a balance. They do not see Ethereum, lending pools, or transaction logs.
It is a classic “CeDeFi” trade-off, with custodial risk and potential censorship at the UX layer in exchange for zero friction.
The app works like a bank because, functionally, it operates like one. The difference is that the yield engine runs on Aave’s battle-tested lending protocol rather than fractional-reserve banking, and the “bank” cannot lend customers’ deposits to other borrowers without transparent on-chain collateralization.
Users complete KYC with Mercuryo, receive a username, and can mint a soulbound token that signals their wallet participates in Travel Rule-compliant transfers.
The goal is to make sending crypto “as intuitive as fiat transfers” by replacing addresses with verified names while giving apps a standard way to route and validate transactions.
This directly attacks the cognitive burden Mercuryo’s research highlights. Aliases make the blockchain layer invisible.
They also bolt on more KYC and compliance infrastructure, bringing self-custody closer to the feel of regulated fintech, even as users still hold the keys.
That could be a feature for the segment most likely to adopt: affluent, compliance-conscious users already comfortable with Apple Pay, usernames, and fraud monitoring.
The system assumes mainstream users want Web3 to feel like Web2 payments, just with better settlement and portability guarantees.
That assumption may prove correct for the upper-middle-class cohort already inclined toward digital wallets. It does less for people paying 20% fees at strip-mall Bitcoin ATMs or for users who valued crypto precisely because it did not require KYC gatekeepers.
Digital wallets became normal by being invisible. They required no new behavior, carried familiar branding, and worked everywhere cards worked.
Web3 wallets remain specialized tools because they expose the underlying machinery, addresses, keys, gas, transaction finality, and demand that users understand concepts most have no reason to learn.
Aave’s app and Mastercard’s aliases try to close that gap by borrowing UX patterns from banking and Big Tech.
Aave wraps a lending protocol in a high-yield savings interface with insurance-style messaging and custodial simplicity.
Mastercard wraps wallet addresses in verified usernames with KYC and compliance rails baked in. Both trade off some of the decentralization’s promises, censorship resistance, and permissionless access, for mainstream legibility.
That trade may move the needle for wallet-curious savers and traders who already use fintech apps and want yield without learning Solidity. It may pull in the segment that finds 9% APY compelling but finds MetaMask intimidating.
It will not, by itself, shift the 13% intuitiveness figure if the deeper problems are cost, trust, and access rather than interface polish.
The Mercuryo data suggests crypto’s UX crisis is also a class crisis. Affluent users get sleek apps, verified aliases, and insured yields. Lower-income users get predatory ATM fees and remittance corridors.
If Aave and Mastercard succeed, they will likely grow at the top of that distribution first, making Web3 more palatable to people who already love Apple Pay and Robinhood.
Whether they crack the broader adoption problem depends on whether mainstream users actually want what Web3 offers once the parts that make it Web3 are removed.
A 9% yield is compelling until regulators force it down to 4%. A verified username is convenient until it becomes a chokepoint.
At that point, users are left asking whether they built a better savings account or just a more complicated one.
The 13% intuitiveness score is not a UX problem. It is a signal that most people do not yet see a reason to learn a new financial operating system.
Better yields and cleaner interfaces help, but they matter only if the system underneath delivers something traditional Rails cannot. Aave and Mastercard are betting it does. The next year will test whether the other 87% agree.
