Death of the Influencer
There was once a time when social media influencers were familiar, relatable figures—the Zoellas and Tanya Burrs. They weren't so distant from the average girl with their painstakingly straightforward tutorials. We didn't need a step-by-step, five-minute video with cheesy xylophone music teaching us how to do the most basic side pony. Yet, we still tuned in eagerly for the five-minute makeup challenges, the hauls, Vlogmas, and more.
Gradually, there has been a shift in the accessibility of influencers to the average girl. The platform migration from YouTube to TikTok has led to the rise of a new breed of more polished and refined influencers. Now, when searching for “What’s in My Bag” on TikTok, we are presented with an overwhelming selection of videos that all follow the same format—showcasing an unnecessary overconsumption of luxury items that no one truly needs. From Stanley Cup accessories to five different variations of the same lip oil, the focus has shifted.
No longer content with merely showing what’s in their bag, influencers are now attempting to sell not just the bag itself but everything within it. Of course, every item is conveniently linked in their Amazon storefront, found in their bio. I remember when Zoella had her Bloglovin’ link in her bio, a nod to a time when sharing was more about connection than commerce. Now, bios have become mini storefronts, reflecting a broader shift towards consumerism and materialism. What was once a simple, personal video has turned into a strategic sales pitch, with influencers meticulously linking every item to their online storefronts.
There’s a slow decline in individuality and personalization. What once was a fun trend to showcase the individuality of the individual has turned into a copy-and-paste showcase of excess, gradually blurring the line between the average viewer and the so-affluent influencer, making it even more difficult to find unique and genuine content in this mass stream of media materialism.
Thus, introducing deinfluencing, yes, another trend, but one with the intention of helping people make more mindful choices. It pushes back against traditional influencer culture by encouraging people to be more critical of consumerism and the products being promoted online. Instead of urging followers to buy the latest products, deinfluencers advise them to think carefully before making purchases, often highlighting the downsides of trendy or overhyped items.
There has been a gradual wakeup call where we’ve realized that TikTok’s influencer culture promotes toxicity and overconsumption above everything else, all of which is corrupting our mentality. We’ve started to question why we’re watching these girls when we no longer see ourselves in them; they aren’t substantial figures anymore. The culture shift has led me to search for more educational videos; our brains have been rotting so much to the point where video essays feel refreshing and intriguing. I figured if I’m going to spend an unhealthy amount of time on my phone daily, it might as well be productive and functional. I once watched a three-hour-long video analyzing the worldwide-known sitcom Friends. That may not have been the most predictive use of my time, but at least it engaged my mind in a way that mindless doomscrolling never could. Diving into video essays offers a break from the superficial content that dominates social media, allowing me to learn something new or see a familiar topic from a different perspective. If I’m going to be glued to my screen, I want it to be for something that challenges my thinking rather than just filling time.
Influencers' playing fields are slowly being replaced with more substantial content; their influence is decreasing. Why are they trying to sell a polyurethane bag during the cost of living crisis? There’s been a subconscious wakeup call and realization that the newer breed of influencers is slightly out of touch. It’s not that video essays are more valuable than a ‘get ready with me,’ but by opting for a video essay over a get ready with me, I feel as though I am prioritizing my interests and, most importantly, my mental health because I know I won’t be comparing myself to that girl who has the newest Haus Labs foundation or Mango heels.
I’ve started to re-watch old videos from the OG BritCrew to feel something, perhaps it’s out of nostalgia, but hey, at least they're not trying to sell me the marshmallows they used in the Chubby Bunny challenge.
