If you make your living telling other people what to buy online, “de-influencing” might sound like a direct threat. The trend of glossy videos advising users not to waste their money on Dyson Airwrap hair stylers, Ugg Minis, AirPods Max earphones or Olaplex shampoo has been hailed as a challenge to over-consumption and a return to authenticity. It is nothing of the sort. De-influencing is just as manipulative as any other social media performance. It is instead a sign of economic anxiety.
The polished, pampered class of influencers, people who make money from their online audiences and the brands they partner with, are part of an estimated $16bn market. Their reach extends beyond ad campaigns. Emily Hund, author of The Influencer Industry, points out that even the White House employs someone to work with online creators.
But the market they operate in is close to two decades old. The youthful sheen of vloggers who documented their lo-fi everyday lives for the sake of it is long gone. An entire generation of popular YouTubers have stepped away. Their replacements operate in a sector in which both brands and social media companies are more demanding about curated content.