Are People Getting Tired of Influencers?
Or is the way people relate to content creators just changing?
Over 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 backlash against beauty influencer Mikayla Nogueira complaining about having to work until 5:19 PM. Even though the widely shared clip lacked context, people criticized 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, others were genuinely offended by what they viewed as an ostentatious display of wealth following a pandemic that cost many people their lives and livelihoods.
I think these incidents signify a change in what people expect from online creators. The one common theme across the examples I mentioned is that they’re examples of influencers becoming so far removed from their audiences that they come across as out-of-touch and unrelatable. Unrelatability has become the kiss of death for 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 that she was in one of 2019’s most-hyped movies and dated Kanye West, two things most average humans cannot 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 being reflected back at them—they want to feel seen, heard, and valued. Whether the creator whose work they’re consuming can actually relate to them is 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 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.
One of my followers, a 23-year-old from Australia named Iris, said, “I just cannot relate to these young, beautiful, and 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 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. She said 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 monetize. This confirmed 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 monetize 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 behavior 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 prioritizing 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.
Dec 13, 2022
·
4 min read
Are People Getting Tired of Influencers?
Or is the way people relate to content creators just changing?
Over 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 backlash against beauty influencer Mikayla Nogueira complaining about having to work until 5:19 PM. Even though the widely shared clip lacked context, people criticized 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, others were genuinely offended by what they viewed as an ostentatious display of wealth following a pandemic that cost many people their lives and livelihoods.
I think these incidents signify a change in what people expect from online creators. The one common theme across the examples I mentioned is that they’re examples of influencers becoming so far removed from their audiences that they come across as out-of-touch and unrelatable. Unrelatability has become the kiss of death for 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 that she was in one of 2019’s most-hyped movies and dated Kanye West, two things most average humans cannot 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 being reflected back at them—they want to feel seen, heard, and valued. Whether the creator whose work they’re consuming can actually relate to them is 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 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.
One of my followers, a 23-year-old from Australia named Iris, said, “I just cannot relate to these young, beautiful, and 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 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. She said 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 monetize. This confirmed 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 monetize 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 behavior 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 prioritizing 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.
Dec 13, 2022
·
4 min read
Are People Getting Tired of Influencers?
Or is the way people relate to content creators just changing?
Over 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 backlash against beauty influencer Mikayla Nogueira complaining about having to work until 5:19 PM. Even though the widely shared clip lacked context, people criticized 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, others were genuinely offended by what they viewed as an ostentatious display of wealth following a pandemic that cost many people their lives and livelihoods.
I think these incidents signify a change in what people expect from online creators. The one common theme across the examples I mentioned is that they’re examples of influencers becoming so far removed from their audiences that they come across as out-of-touch and unrelatable. Unrelatability has become the kiss of death for 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 that she was in one of 2019’s most-hyped movies and dated Kanye West, two things most average humans cannot 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 being reflected back at them—they want to feel seen, heard, and valued. Whether the creator whose work they’re consuming can actually relate to them is 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 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.
One of my followers, a 23-year-old from Australia named Iris, said, “I just cannot relate to these young, beautiful, and 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 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. She said 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 monetize. This confirmed 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 monetize 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 behavior 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 prioritizing 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.
Dec 13, 2022
·
4 min read
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Subscribe to our weekly newsletter so you never miss a story.
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Subscribe to our weekly newsletter so you never miss a story.
