“I’ve never seen such incredible results!”
An influencer exclaimed about a serum she’d used on her freckled skin, hyperpigmented like mine. Intrigued (of course), I swiped up on her Instagram story, read its glowing reviews (see what I did there), and hit “add to cart” so fast it made me dizzy.
Once the serum arrived, I diligently applied it twice a day. I patiently waited as weeks went by with zero improvement. Nothing ever changed for the better. Where was my even skin tone? My dewy cheeks? I eventually gave up trying and threw it in the trash. And that influencer? She was talking about ANOTHER serum less than two weeks later.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time this has happened to me. I’d gone through the same pattern over the years: See an influencer I liked tout a product or trend, buy or try said-product for myself, then be super disappointed by the results. I’ve purchased shoes that ended up being extremely uncomfortable, dresses that fell apart on the first wear, and bought countless health supplements did absolutely nothing for me.
To an extent, that’s to be expected. What works for one person can’t work for everyone. But what I didn’t like was not only the disappointment that would come when trying out widely “beloved” products only to feel it failed–but I really didn’t like the shame that came along with that experience. I started to also realize how much money I was spending doing this.
But whenever I experience this frustration lately, I have to remind myself of the whole point of influencers.
Influencers have something marketable about them to begin with, whether it’s that clear skin, thin bodies or a wealthy lifestyle most people only dream of having. And influencer marketing works; it’s now an almost $14 billion industry—because we’re more likely to listen to someone who looks and sounds kinda of like us versus Kim Kardashian or Hailey Bieber, right?
Still, influencers aren’t necessarily accessible anymore either. The 25-step skincare routine they obsess over, though they don’t have hormonal acne, freckles, or hyperpigmentation, will not have the same effects on me. The styles that look beautiful on their size two bodies won’t be nearly as comfortable on my 5’11 curvy self. Their commitment to highlights, extensions, lashes, nails, Botox, tanning, lasers, facials, or veneers, is more time I spend doing my actual job in a week.
Maybe it’s easy to assume I’m following the wrong people, but I am very conscious of refining and editing my social media feed constantly. I imagine many everyday people see the same experience. It’s virtually impossible not to see this content on social media, when platforms like Instagram and Pinterest are investing more heavily on aesthetics and influencer marketing. Companies from the likes of Airbnb to Amazon to Louis Vuitton pay people with a lot of followers on social media to promote their products. These creators then make content, typically videos, where they recommend the products and services, often adding a discount code their followers can use to sweeten the deal. And it’s all done under the guise of being your friend or being relatable. “Normal” users are also encouraged to post like influencers, documenting every detail of their outfit, doing an unboxing of a new purchase, or doing a full restaurant review.
And the algorithm we’re fed back doubles down on those expectations, using targeted influencer ads to tell you, “Yes, you do need those shoes with that outfit—just like she has!”
Even when I go out of my way to follow people like me—a tall midsize women in her 40s—I’m left feeling less than. I would love to be the girl with perfectly applied makeup and a make up vanity filled with hundreds of dollars of product. Yet they probably don’t sweat their face off everyday at the gym like I do. Do we think these influencers would put in the same effort then, especially if they weren’t being paid to present themselves in a perfectly (filtered) light?
Like I said, I would love to throw on something new every single day, but I don’t have hundreds of dollars to spend on each piece like they might (or were likely gifted). Sometimes, the influencers I find generally relatable will mention a $12,000 couch or traveling on a private jet for vacation, and I’m left with a slightly queasy feeling in my stomach. Especially when the next thing I scroll to is a post about genocide or another horrific event in the world. It’s hard to wrap my brain around it.
So I’ve arrived at a crossroads if you will: My lifestyle, priorities, and income are almost never going to align with theirs and honestly those results aren’t attainable or realistic. The so-called life influencers share on Instagram—and whatever they tout along with it—isn’t one I can buy if I wanted to.
Because “it” doesn’t exist.
Instead of listening to their (paid) suggestions, I’m leaning into what works best for me.
That doesn’t mean I’m unfollowing every influencer, micro and macro, on social media. That’s how they make their livelihood, which I respect, though I’m taking their recommendations with more than a grain of salt. Nor does it mean I’m entirely ignoring every suggestion—reviews from real users are helpful! (Hello, this is how I pick out my Amazon purchases!) But what it does mean is that I’m pausing.
I’m pausing to:
- Remember that if I didn’t need it before, I probably don’t need it now. A t-shirt is not going to change my life. Neither will another color Stanley.
- Understand that trends are wasteful and you end up looking the same as everyone else. They also change every five minutes it feels like.
- Remember that overconsumption isn’t “therapy”. It’s also horrific for the environment.
- Remember that buying “things” can look like you are investing in you but in reality, self reflection and committed action toward your goals and values are the real investment.
I’m also pausing to consider if what I’m being shown is realistic, useful, truthful, and in line with my values and lifestyle. Pausing my engagement with content that makes me feel less than. Pausing to be more intentional with my purchases. Pausing the “add to cart” moments I later end up regretting, and reevaluating if items will actually work for me. For my body.
Rather than heading to influencers I’ve never met for recommendations, I’m trying to turn to friends and family for their favorites. (I’m even relying on you, community!) Because many of the products and places I’ve come to love are suggested from loved ones themselves. They know firsthand what does align with my life and what will make me feel my best.
That’s something influencers will never quite be able to do.
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