What did we even have before influencers? Who told you about the latest skin care trends? How did you know to buy white furniture and accent it with pink pillows? That trick to calm a toddler’s tantrum—who did you get that from when it was 2005?
It wasn’t so long ago that the world of influencing was, what, magazine stories? Cultural critics who spotted trends? Or even more basic, conversations with friends?!
But now, we seem to be at the influencer tipping point. Firstly, there are too many—too many in sheer numbers and too many in distinct and increasingly ridiculous categories. There are influencers delineated by count: Nano (1,000 to 10,000 followers), Micro (10,000 to 100,000), Macro (100,000 to one million), and Mega (a crazy number).
There are influencers delineated by subject: “Momfluencers,” Gaming Influencers, Beauty Influencers, Food Influencers (which for some reason aren’t called Food-fluencers), Pet Influencers (like, actual people’s pets who influence), Military Influencers, Senior Influencers, and many, many, many more. With every passing day, newer, niche-ier categories are developed and monetized.
We’re at a tipping point in terms of the reach of the concept. But we’re also at a tipping point in terms of how we receive influencers. Everyone seems to love to hate them. But everyone also can’t stop scrolling through their feeds and be unironically influenced by them. They seem to be taking over your Instagram and TikTok feeds, and yet, you don’t remember following any of them. It’s a weird influencer creep that you’re begrudgingly accepting until . . . you start unfollowing.
They seem to be taking over your Instagram and TikTok feeds, and yet, you don’t remember following any of them.
Then there’s the ethics of the thing. It’s not a regulated industry, and everyone is now suddenly realizing that. Sure, peddling some kind of luminous skin serum seems ethically OK when you’re a single lady with a pretty face to show off, but once you get into the world of parenting and Momfluencing, that’s a whole different can of worms. There are photos of children that aren’t old enough to consent. There are streams of income based on how good your entire family looks while, say, jumping on a trampoline. Do the kids get a cut of that money? There are children actually doing the influencing. And unlike child actors who are regulated by a series of unions and bylaws, children in the influencing space have no actual advocacy apparatus. We’re just hoping that their parents are “good.”
Again, what about the ethics on the receiving end? Who is looking at this content? Are they old enough to understand that their life has value even if they don’t buy the luminous skin serum? We know that teen girls are negatively affected by Instagram. What do we know about the effects of the sale of products to these teens by influencers? Are we adding to body image issues with false promises associated with products being sold by influencers who may not really believe in the products in the first place?
This skepticism is now rampant, because 87 percent of consumers doubt that influencers even use the products they’re promoting. Eighty-two percent don’t even like the thing they bought because of an influencer. I’m embarrassed to admit that I fell prey to an influencer’s heavy insistence on a pair of supposedly magical leggings. Guess what? They weren’t magical. They sit unused in my closet, under a cloud of retail shame.
Before I knew to ask myself these questions, I was targeted by a company that wanted me to wear their clothes in two posts. I thought, “How fun! I get some free clothes!” I did it, and as far as I can tell, nobody was hurt. But I felt really gross. I didn’t love the brand or even really know much about it. (Sorry, brand, it’s me, not you.) I just felt I had no business pushing a brand that I had such limited experience with. I’m a comedian and an actor, so there are scenarios in which I have been paid to be in a commercial for a product. That doesn’t make me feel as gross as influencing, primarily because I am pretending to endorse a product. It’s acting.
Influencers are acting, too, although we don’t call it that yet. But it seems like we are all finally hip to it, even if we haven’t quite hit the unfollow button.
As I see it, influencers are not long for this Internet. Who knows, maybe we’ll even go back to getting our tips from conversations between friends.