“So I did a thing,” has become the coy hallmark internet catchphrase, from proposals to kitchen renovations. But the question increasingly being posed to “influencers” is, exactly how many things can you do?
If you gained followers while planning your wedding, prepare for the honeymoon comedown. Cool, you climbed Mt Fuji, is Everest next? Like honeybees flocking to the queen, the hive of social media will move on before you know it. Better start learning that next viral dance, that next it-girl makeup trend, that next Taylor Swift song. Keep churning out content; endless, endless content. Please sir, can I have some more – but make it yassified.
Marco Zamora is an LA home decor influencer. He rose to prominence after a series of renter-friendly DIYs in his kitchen which, honestly, is gorgeous work. The internet followed along hungrily as he tiled his floor, crafted a canopy bed from a shower rail, even attempted stained-glass windows in his living room.
The thing is, he’s running out of spaces to transform for my – or anyone else’s – ravenous pleasure. And that’s a real problem, for both me (bored) and Zamora (his career). His latest video showed him painting a 2D effect on his bedroom doors to critical panning. “I trusted the process. . . but the process did not trust me,” says one user. “I don’t know, diva, I’m just not really feeling this one,” says another.
The video earlier showcased an underwhelming closet makeover. “Today, we’re unlocking a new room in my apartment,” the video begins. You have to wonder, what rooms are left in this presumably 1-bedroom apartment? One hopes the boy has a hearty linen closet tucked away somewhere, an enlarged sock drawer, perhaps. If not, all those likes, all those comments, will turn their attention to the next DIYer with a paintbrush and a staple gun.
And it’s not just the interior design landscape. What happens when a weight loss influencer finally loses the weight they wanted to lose? Or more to the point, how many times can they post the same before-and-after photos until their followers lose interest?
The truth is that a finite limit exists in a person’s life, dependent on wealth, time, health, and a variety of other factors that will falter their growth in an otherwise limitless internet. The internet is turning us into content machines, “trap(ping) users in a brutal race to the bottom,” according to The New Yorker’s Kyle Chayka. Which sounds great and all if we were actually machines, not 25-year-old girls with an iPhone and a dream.
Late-stage capitalism has encouraged a giddy, reckless approach to infinite growth. Churning out product after product, chasing profit records like greyhounds. Businesses have the means to change logos, offer limited-edition stock, film a provocative ad campaign to capture that shiny car-smell feeling of newness.
TikTokers are rarely afforded the same luxury. Creators and users now view their personalities and daily lives as in service of a marketable brand, says Angèle Christin, a Stanford University associate professor. According to Christin, many now feel that they have to open up that commodity for public consumption all the time. “The content maw still needs to be fed, 24/7, no holidays, and if you’re not producing new material on schedule, you’re gambling with your entire livelihood,” writes Drew Grant, managing editor of creator guidebook Passionfruit.
Behind every clothing-haul influencer who dances around to showcase the latest H&M autumnal drop is an influencer who must presumably deal with the physical and financial cost of those garments long after the 10-second video has come to an end. Is her marriage on a tipping point because of closet space arguments? Is her local Salvation Army thoroughly sick of her? (Same). Does her mailman refuse to meet her gaze because of her avalanche of return packages?
As more and more everyday people get sucked into the content creator machine, these social, financial, and environmental problems will continue. Celebrities have space to house these swathes of clothes, you do not. The rich have the money to swap out a new couch seasonally, you do not. They can go from Kardashian curves to Ozempic thinness in a news cycle. Influencers, try as they might, have yet to reach these luxuries that allow for continual newness, continual intrigue.
They might be relatively successful, sure, enough for them to quit whatever office job they held prior, but their roots are uneasy, built on sand, dependant on sponsorship and clicks that may wash away with the tide. For the 54% of young people that want to be influencers, that’s a reality worth remembering.
As for Zamora, I hope he finds a hidden laundry chute to renovate soon. Maybe he could follow in the cowboy boot footsteps of interior decorator Dani Klarić, known for her sugary, colourful interiors of squiggles and general gen z-ness. After prolific coverage of her own apartment, she turned her brush towards her best friend’s room, then her boyfriend’s home. She moved rentals, giving her a new blank canvas for her oversized sofa and vinyl collection. Now, she’s looking to buy a house: more content, coming right up! Served hot and fresh. But if you can’t afford to treat your non-existent boyfriend to a mid-century modern bed, or God forbid, buy a house, your content machine might start shuddering to a halt.
Perhaps, when all is said and done, it’s no surprise many sliver into the mommy-blogger pipeline – you can get a good 18 years worth of content there, promise.
