For the past few months, I’ve noticed an increase in the number of influencer-related dramas that have made their way onto my For You Page. There was the backlash after a video surfaced of beauty influencer Mikayla Nogueira complaining about having to work until 5.19pm; while the clip that was shared around the app lacked context, people criticised her as tone deaf for saying, “Try being an influencer for a day. Try it. Because the people who say it's easy are so far out of their minds. Try it for a day."
Earlier that same month, Tara Lynn went viral for a video in which she said new social media app BeReal was revealing that people were often in bed regardless of the time of day, proving that “nobody wants to work anymore.” Lynn made waves again last month after posting a video revealing she spent $10,000 on Harry Styles concert tickets because balcony tickets weren’t acceptable and she “finna be in the pit”. While many simply made fun of Lynn for being out of touch and having so much money to spend in the first place (as well as for her butchering of AAVE), others were genuinely offended by what they viewed as an ostentatious display of wealth following a pandemic that cost many people their lives, livelihoods and sources of income.
Rather than being tired of influencers in general, however, I think that these incidents signify a change in what people expect from online creators, and a change in the role people want the influencers they follow to fulfill.
The one thing the three examples I mentioned have in common is that they’re examples of influencers becoming so far removed from their audiences and coming across as out-of-touch and unrelatable. Unrelatability has become the kiss of death for online content creators; people will accept it from traditional celebrities, but the nature of YouTube and TikTok (compared to traditional media like film and television) means that people feel a more personal connection to the creator whose work they’re consuming. Traditional celebrities like Julia Fox have taken TikTok by storm precisely because they appear to be relatable, despite the fact she was in one of 2019’s most-hyped movies and dated Kanye West, two things most average TikTok users cannot hope to relate to.
I think that following COVID-19 and with the US entering a recession earlier this year, many people don’t want to be reminded of what they don’t have or can’t afford. Instead, they want to see themselves reflected back at them; they want to feel seen, and heard, and valued. Whether the creator whose work they’re consuming can actually relate to them on any real level is almost beside the point — what matters is whether they’re good at performing relatability.
Wanting to hear other people’s thoughts on this, I posted a TikTok asking people for their thoughts on whether anti-influencer sentiment is on the rise as a result of three years (and counting) of COVID-19. The responses I got were illuminating, particularly from people younger than me who grew up following influencers in a way I didn’t.
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One of my followers, a 23-year-old from Australia named Iris, said, “I just cannot relate to these young, beautiful rich people and don’t care to.” She went on to name certain influencers who, despite being rich, seemed “down to earth” and as a result enjoy large followings: Anna Paul and Emma Chamberlain. The fact that someone like Chamberlain is able to appear relatable to her audience while simultaneously having her home featured in Architectural Digest only confirms for me that the veneer of relatability is what matters, not the reality.
Another mutual, Heidi Kaluza, who goes by the name The Rogue Essentials and who considers herself an influencer in the sustainable fashion space, had a slightly different take, which was that it was more a case of “anti traditional marketing vs. influencer”. She explained that the influencers I mentioned in my video lean towards being salespeople rather than creators, thus putting traditional marketing and sales tactics on display.
As someone who works with brands, Kaluza does so sparingly and only when it aligns with her overall message and is valuable to her audience. This means that she doesn’t “view [her] audience members as an asset” she can monetise. This confirmed for me that it all comes back to relatability, with a side of parasocial relationships: if people feel like they know you because they relate to you, they’re going to chafe at any ham-fisted attempts to monetise their loyalty, as well as any overt reminders that the creator they’re following most likely wouldn’t be their friend IRL.
Rather than representing a backlash against influencers as a group, I think what this represents is a change in the kind of content people want to consume, and the kind of behaviour they expect, from people they follow online. Whether you’re a bona fide celebrity, a YouTuber, a TikToker or an Instagram personality, audiences seem to be craving and prioritising relatability above everything else. Whether that relatability is genuine or not is another question entirely, but the appearance of relatability is becoming more and more valuable to audiences who are tired of being advertised or condescended to.
TikTok is gaslighting me
…into thinking Kim Kardashian and Michael Cera dated, specifically.
Montages of the pair set to emotional music by Taylor Swift and The 1975 keep appearing on my For You page and I don’t know what prompted it.
Does it stem from people deciding to pair Kim with someone even more out of left field after she dated Pete Davidson? I haven’t looked into this at all, and I probably won’t, but if you know the origin of these videos, I’m all ears.
Wooden ties and duck whistles
My current favourite TikToker is Zoë Bread, a British-based artist who posts absurd videos that have to be seen to be believed. She travels around the UK in a van that contains everything she needs to make a t-shirt, comes up with funny little designs based on bizarre scenarios to go on the t-shirts, and then… makes those scenarios come true, I guess? It’s hard to explain. For example, she found a wooden tie stand in Bath, went back to her van and made a t-shirt with space for a wooden tie, then went back to the stand and delighted the owners by pretending she found the shirt at a charity shop.
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Who doesn’t love a bit of whimsy? Soulless monsters, maybe. Zoë Bread for PM.