Influencers and influencer product promotions dominate the social media feeds of Generation Z. From luxurious party-girl Alix Earle to ultra-feminine homemaker Nara Smith, the astronomic rise of content creation is making us the unknowing targets of subtle advertising.
Beyond the mask of “relatable” posts, we fall for the clothes, the makeup products and the accessories they parade for us. Video by video, brand deal by brand deal, Gen Z influencers sell us the glamour of their lives. And, often oblivious to their manipulating strategies, we eat it up.
Take Earle. Since the University of Miami alumna blew up on TikTok while a college student, she’s become an undeniable pillar of the influencer scene. She’s now known for content ranging from elegant “get ready with me” vlogs to fun lip-synching videos.
While some praise Earle for her online vulnerability, often referring to her videos about struggling with cystic acne, a closer look at Earle’s videos reveals the subtle ways that the influencer sells viewers an unattainable lifestyle.
“She is always partying,” Wake Forest first-year Phoebe Diamond said. “The amount of time, money and energy that goes into her lifestyle is not as obviously advertised as the fun, lighthearted parts of her life.”
“I also feel like this type of content can be harmful, especially to younger girls on social media, who may create these expectations for what their college and post-graduate lives ‘should’ look like when most people can never achieve the life that she is selling,” Diamond continued.
To be sure, Earle is only one of many catalysts of influencer culture. Other content creators, such as Nara Smith and Brigette Pheloung, the latter of whom goes by “Acquired Style” online, often post several times a day. They display trendy clothes, family life and brand deals advertising coveted merchandise.
It’s not the mere existence of influencers that bothers me. Social media is a powerful outlet for self-expression, and I honestly believe in its potential for beauty. My concern is that millions of people consume influencer content daily and perceive it as “normal.” We romanticize the lives of these creators so much that we forget their true motivations.
It’s influencers’ job to convince us of the allure of their lifestyles, and in falling for it, we as viewers lose sight of the boundary between authenticity and advertising. Influencers are not our friends. They are not our “big sisters of the internet.” When all is said and done, they are salespeople working to sell all of us on an impossible, intentional, edited life.
