of the United Kingdom’s capitol city.
A makeup influencer's hand trembles as she holds up a serum bottle, voice cracking while she confesses her skin insecurities. Across town, a finance creator meticulously disarranges his desk before filming his 'casual' money advice. Meanwhile, a wellness guru carefully positions the 'accidental' corner of a sponsored protein powder in the background of her morning routine video.
Welcome to the age of programmatic personality, where authenticity has become social currency. What began as a refreshing antidote to polished corporate marketing has evolved into its own highly calculated industry.
This performance of authenticity comes at a time when trust in institutions—be it government, business, or media—is at an all-time low. As 'authenticity' transitions from north star to marketing checkbox, the very term has begun to collapse under the weight of its contradictions. When algorithms reward vulnerability, personality becomes performance, and the line between genuine connection and commercial transaction blurs beyond recognition.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself. But as content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, the question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
The Performance Economy: When Being 'Real' Became Really Profitable
The consequences extend beyond mere cynicism. Content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, sometimes promoting irrelevant, ineffective, or even dangerous products. The question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
This evolution challenges even Robert Cialdini's seminal theory of influence, which identified six principles that drive human persuasion: reciprocity, commitment, social proof, authority, liking, and scarcity.
In today's creator economy, we may be witnessing the emergence of a seventh principle: performed authenticity—a paradoxical form of influence where the appearance of genuineness becomes more persuasive than genuineness itself.
Fifi Afobe Orelaja, Director of DASH Talent, a UK-based agency specializing in influencer partnerships, acknowledges growing skepticism surrounding the term. “Many brands use the term ‘authenticity’ in their marketing without studying the needs, behaviors, and feelings of the audience,” she says. “When brands and influencers focus on truly understanding and connecting with their audience, the term becomes more meaningful, not just another marketing ploy.”
The overwhelming presence and monetization of influencers may be somewhat to blame.
Aristotle’s Rhetoric indicates that persuasion is tied to character or credibility (ethos), emotion (pathos), and rationality or reason (logos). Some of the world’s most valuable influencers have reached their level of stature because they have successfully tapped into all three appeals while creating content and building candor with their followers. But it's their cultivation of perceived authenticity that truly distinguishes them in a crowded market.
Now, the creator economy has reached a whole new level of size and impact. Storybox estimates 127 million social media users now consider themselves “influencers,” and 40% of US adults follow at least one of them. And with 75% of people using social media to get purchasing advice, Gen Z consumers now trust influencers more than celebrities.
Celebrities or supermodels were once the stars of splashy marketing campaigns. They were considered a critical investment; an indicator of whether a brand and its products were culturally relevant. The likes of Julia Roberts or Naomi Campbell have been supplemented—if not replaced—by Charli D'Amelio, Addison Rae, and Alexandra Saint Mieu. For brands, influencers’ main value stems from their ability to convince an audience that they simply need every item they share—whether it be a new Amazon-brand summer ‘fit, or the latest product from Scrub Daddy.
Macro- and micro-influencers have mass appeal, but brands shouldn’t sleep on trusted “nano- influencers.” who offer marginally smaller followings.
Why? Because while KPIs like reach are important, brands need to closely watch whose content converts to cash. Nano-influencers’ follower counts are smaller, but that means these communities are more accessible, tight-knit, and communicative, so these influencers’ ability to truly deliver on the authenticity promise is high.
Fundamentally, a creator’s authenticity is conjunctive with one’s ability to garner a loyal and active network through their online presence, whether it be through Instagram’s Reels, viral TikTok videos, or curated collections on shoppable content-driven apps like LTK. Moreover, their ability to relate to and garner trust from their audience is directly correlated to how fiscally valuable they can be to a brand. If an audience truly trusts the influencers they follow, they’re more likely to buy the items, services, and experiences they recommend.
Authenticity™: The Commodification of Vulnerability
As a result, creators are sharing and over-sharing to prove just how authentic they are. The authenticity race has even been an excuse to market (even sell) vulnerability, with influencers crying on cue becoming the norm.
Trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, but authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands.
Influencers are battling it out to prove who is the most authentic, relatable, and in touch with their audience. But who decides that these influencers have influence and are actually trustworthy? Is it the herd mentality of loyal fans and followers that sways the market? Maybe this comes when industry insiders decide their opinions matter. Take YouTuber Nico Leonard as an example. His reputation in the luxury watch market is synonymous with his personal hatred towards heritage Swiss watchmaker Hublot. He is known, and respected, for his brutal honesty—something that tends to disappear the bigger and more profitable an influencer gets. Nico even has no shame in changing his opinions, an even rarer occurrence in the creator world.
While trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands. Influencers are being “found out” by their followers and scorched online for promoting an item they don’t actually use or for partnering with a brand that doesn’t align with the values they tout online.
In one of the most extreme cases, a group of influencers were put on blast for going on a sponsored trip from SHEIN to Guangzhou, China, where they were promised an inside look into the fast-fashion giant’s operations. Fans and followers questioned these creators’ motives and their integrity, especially considering SHEIN’s alleged labor abuses and environmental impact.
As a result, consumers’ trust in influencers is starting to wane. Morning Consult found that the share of social media users who trust influencers dropped five percentage points over the same time last year. Orelaja notes that consumers are valid for calling out what feels disingenuous. “It’s a fair criticism, especially if the influencer is portraying themselves as a true advocate for the product but isn’t using it in their day-to-day life,” she says. “Audiences value transparency and authenticity, so if influencers are caught promoting products they don't actually use, it can erode trust.”
The Credibility Paradox: Trust in an Age of Algorithms
The peak of influencer fame comes when personal brands become large enough to create organic demand for their own products. Why are brands like Chamberlain Coffee and Unwell Hydration such marketable propositions when neither Emma Chamberlain nor Alex Cooper grew their followings as beverage-adjacent content creators? Surely it makes more sense when a beauty siloed influencer releases a beauty product?
“Influencers have the advantage of direct insight into what their followers want and need,” Orelaja explains, perhaps unlocking the secret to a creator-founded brand. There is a reason influencers quit their 9-to-5 jobs to create content full-time: because they understand their target audiences well enough to monetize them in the best way.
Arguably, this is when the authenticity myth has the potential to reach its peak.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they’re no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They’re looking for ways to best sell to them, whether it be through sponsorship deals or through new branded products and partnerships. For YouTubers Mr. Beast, Logan Paul, and KSI, that means creating a “healthier alternative” to Lunchables that includes their additive-filled products and, in some cases, mold. The cult of personality got them the required buzz to ensure a successful launch, but a lack of operational oversight kicked community criticism into high gear.
From Influence to Industry: When Personalities Become Products
Influencers are supposed to create content with their audiences front-of-mind. It is what drives Cialdini’s Influence Theory, which indicates that people tend to follow the actions of others, especially in ambiguous situations. That is the value proposition for people who follow them as well as brands that partner with them. But influencers increasingly create content and establish brand partnerships to fuel the larger algorithm. This allows them to drive audience growth and hit their key performance indicators. However, it also means they risk losing any niche credibility or authenticity they worked so hard to claim.
Once-distinct content brands are following the same tips and “hacks” to slot in social feeds. They may benefit from getting more eyes, and possibly fulfilling certain brand KPI requirements, but influencers are increasingly creating content for an unaware and unengaged audience. This is when trust and influence become at risk. “Audiences can spot when a creator has never mentioned a product organically and then is suddenly claiming that a particular product is ‘the best,’” Orelaja notes.
Sure, no one likes to buy a product that isn’t actually trusted or recommended, but in some cases, inauthenticity leads to more sinister outcomes. This is increasingly becoming an issue in the health and wellness market, which has “lifestyle influencers” promoting new, “healthy” protein powders, wellness supplements, and weight-loss regimens that don’t have the level of quality they promise.
“You've got people who are actively seeking things out, and they find themselves down rabbit holes, peddling misinformation of one kind or another,” notes Mark Frankel, Head of Public Affairs at Full Fact, an independent fact checking organization. In the misinformation epidemic, Frankel notes that some responsibility should be placed on the platforms themselves. They establish a space that gives unwarranted power to creators, leaving audiences vulnerable to unwanted recommendations. But that doesn’t mean the brands and creators shouldn’t be held accountable. “I think the platforms are providing an environment for people to operate within, and they set the terms of play,” he explains. “The fact that I could set up, as a pseudo-scientific expert on TikTok, that's still down to me, isn't it? And if I decide to peddle things that are scientifically unsubstantiated, that is down to me. But the fact that I can do that with relative ease on platforms is concerning.”
Is it wrong to give all influencers a bad name when many are qualified in the spaces they promote and add value to creator conversation? Dr. Tommy Martin is one example as a health creator who looks to dispel misinformation while offering fun and authentic insight into his personal and family life. Yet his true “service” to followers is when he reshares influencers’ content and analyzes their claims, line by line.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they're no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They're looking for ways to best sell to them.
Ultimately, Frankel believes that building a trusting relationship is a two-way street between brands and creators. However, the onus ultimately lies with brands doing their due diligence when researching potential influencer partners. “If a brand is going to choose somebody to represent them whose basis is not solid in evidence and a real understanding of what they're peddling, I think they're clearly opening themselves up to problems down the line because people could be misled,” he explains.
Who Pays the Price for Inauthentic Influence?
At a time when consumers are challenging the integrity of influencer campaigns and partnerships, what is the decision metric for the ultimate partnership?
The personal monetary benefit likely serves as a pleasant compromise for some influencers, but how many prioritize dollar signs over their own values? After all, when you isolate your audience, the deals stop coming. “If the talent doesn’t feel aligned, it can absolutely come across as inauthentic, which is a risk for both the brand and the audience,” Orelaja says.
Given this risk, “most influencers are highly selective about the brands they work with because they value their relationship with their audience,” Orelaja says. “When it's forced, it tends to have a negative impact on the performance of the content.”
Likewise, brands also risk the PR headaches, and revenue hits, that come when they make an insensitive or irrelevant choice in a partner. Luckily for brands, they have an advantage now: millions of people consider themselves as “influencers”—an ever-growing pool to choose from. It makes it more likely to find someone who already uses their products and actually engages with their target market. If an influencer is “cancelled” or suddenly considered irrelevant, brands can easily find a replacement that delivers similar metrics for the same or a lower cost.
Do both influencers and brands suffer the same level of risk? With controversial brand moves, such as Tarte Cosmetics’ influencer trips, there is a more lasting impact on the brand than the creator. But is all press good press for brands, especially in an age where rage often leads to engagement, and engagement leads to revenue?
Orelaja predicts that brands will aim to minimize risk by diversifying their creator partnerships and collaborating with influencers based on strategic long-term alignment, not follower counts. “We’ll likely see more niche influencers, as audiences are looking for more personalized and relevant content,” she says. “The rise of micro- and nano-influencers will continue, with brands seeking more targeted and authentic connections.”
As the creator economy continues to evolve, perhaps Cialdini's principles need updating for the digital age. Today's manufactured authenticity represents something deeper than just "liking" or "social proof"—it's become its own principle of influence, one based on the strategic performance of unfiltered realness.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself.
A makeup influencer's hand trembles as she holds up a serum bottle, voice cracking while she confesses her skin insecurities. Across town, a finance creator meticulously disarranges his desk before filming his 'casual' money advice. Meanwhile, a wellness guru carefully positions the 'accidental' corner of a sponsored protein powder in the background of her morning routine video.
Welcome to the age of programmatic personality, where authenticity has become social currency. What began as a refreshing antidote to polished corporate marketing has evolved into its own highly calculated industry.
This performance of authenticity comes at a time when trust in institutions—be it government, business, or media—is at an all-time low. As 'authenticity' transitions from north star to marketing checkbox, the very term has begun to collapse under the weight of its contradictions. When algorithms reward vulnerability, personality becomes performance, and the line between genuine connection and commercial transaction blurs beyond recognition.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself. But as content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, the question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
The Performance Economy: When Being 'Real' Became Really Profitable
The consequences extend beyond mere cynicism. Content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, sometimes promoting irrelevant, ineffective, or even dangerous products. The question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
This evolution challenges even Robert Cialdini's seminal theory of influence, which identified six principles that drive human persuasion: reciprocity, commitment, social proof, authority, liking, and scarcity.
In today's creator economy, we may be witnessing the emergence of a seventh principle: performed authenticity—a paradoxical form of influence where the appearance of genuineness becomes more persuasive than genuineness itself.
Fifi Afobe Orelaja, Director of DASH Talent, a UK-based agency specializing in influencer partnerships, acknowledges growing skepticism surrounding the term. “Many brands use the term ‘authenticity’ in their marketing without studying the needs, behaviors, and feelings of the audience,” she says. “When brands and influencers focus on truly understanding and connecting with their audience, the term becomes more meaningful, not just another marketing ploy.”
The overwhelming presence and monetization of influencers may be somewhat to blame.
Aristotle’s Rhetoric indicates that persuasion is tied to character or credibility (ethos), emotion (pathos), and rationality or reason (logos). Some of the world’s most valuable influencers have reached their level of stature because they have successfully tapped into all three appeals while creating content and building candor with their followers. But it's their cultivation of perceived authenticity that truly distinguishes them in a crowded market.
Now, the creator economy has reached a whole new level of size and impact. Storybox estimates 127 million social media users now consider themselves “influencers,” and 40% of US adults follow at least one of them. And with 75% of people using social media to get purchasing advice, Gen Z consumers now trust influencers more than celebrities.
Celebrities or supermodels were once the stars of splashy marketing campaigns. They were considered a critical investment; an indicator of whether a brand and its products were culturally relevant. The likes of Julia Roberts or Naomi Campbell have been supplemented—if not replaced—by Charli D'Amelio, Addison Rae, and Alexandra Saint Mieu. For brands, influencers’ main value stems from their ability to convince an audience that they simply need every item they share—whether it be a new Amazon-brand summer ‘fit, or the latest product from Scrub Daddy.
Macro- and micro-influencers have mass appeal, but brands shouldn’t sleep on trusted “nano- influencers.” who offer marginally smaller followings.
Why? Because while KPIs like reach are important, brands need to closely watch whose content converts to cash. Nano-influencers’ follower counts are smaller, but that means these communities are more accessible, tight-knit, and communicative, so these influencers’ ability to truly deliver on the authenticity promise is high.
Fundamentally, a creator’s authenticity is conjunctive with one’s ability to garner a loyal and active network through their online presence, whether it be through Instagram’s Reels, viral TikTok videos, or curated collections on shoppable content-driven apps like LTK. Moreover, their ability to relate to and garner trust from their audience is directly correlated to how fiscally valuable they can be to a brand. If an audience truly trusts the influencers they follow, they’re more likely to buy the items, services, and experiences they recommend.
Authenticity™: The Commodification of Vulnerability
As a result, creators are sharing and over-sharing to prove just how authentic they are. The authenticity race has even been an excuse to market (even sell) vulnerability, with influencers crying on cue becoming the norm.
Trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, but authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands.
Influencers are battling it out to prove who is the most authentic, relatable, and in touch with their audience. But who decides that these influencers have influence and are actually trustworthy? Is it the herd mentality of loyal fans and followers that sways the market? Maybe this comes when industry insiders decide their opinions matter. Take YouTuber Nico Leonard as an example. His reputation in the luxury watch market is synonymous with his personal hatred towards heritage Swiss watchmaker Hublot. He is known, and respected, for his brutal honesty—something that tends to disappear the bigger and more profitable an influencer gets. Nico even has no shame in changing his opinions, an even rarer occurrence in the creator world.
While trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands. Influencers are being “found out” by their followers and scorched online for promoting an item they don’t actually use or for partnering with a brand that doesn’t align with the values they tout online.
In one of the most extreme cases, a group of influencers were put on blast for going on a sponsored trip from SHEIN to Guangzhou, China, where they were promised an inside look into the fast-fashion giant’s operations. Fans and followers questioned these creators’ motives and their integrity, especially considering SHEIN’s alleged labor abuses and environmental impact.
As a result, consumers’ trust in influencers is starting to wane. Morning Consult found that the share of social media users who trust influencers dropped five percentage points over the same time last year. Orelaja notes that consumers are valid for calling out what feels disingenuous. “It’s a fair criticism, especially if the influencer is portraying themselves as a true advocate for the product but isn’t using it in their day-to-day life,” she says. “Audiences value transparency and authenticity, so if influencers are caught promoting products they don't actually use, it can erode trust.”
The Credibility Paradox: Trust in an Age of Algorithms
The peak of influencer fame comes when personal brands become large enough to create organic demand for their own products. Why are brands like Chamberlain Coffee and Unwell Hydration such marketable propositions when neither Emma Chamberlain nor Alex Cooper grew their followings as beverage-adjacent content creators? Surely it makes more sense when a beauty siloed influencer releases a beauty product?
“Influencers have the advantage of direct insight into what their followers want and need,” Orelaja explains, perhaps unlocking the secret to a creator-founded brand. There is a reason influencers quit their 9-to-5 jobs to create content full-time: because they understand their target audiences well enough to monetize them in the best way.
Arguably, this is when the authenticity myth has the potential to reach its peak.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they’re no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They’re looking for ways to best sell to them, whether it be through sponsorship deals or through new branded products and partnerships. For YouTubers Mr. Beast, Logan Paul, and KSI, that means creating a “healthier alternative” to Lunchables that includes their additive-filled products and, in some cases, mold. The cult of personality got them the required buzz to ensure a successful launch, but a lack of operational oversight kicked community criticism into high gear.
From Influence to Industry: When Personalities Become Products
Influencers are supposed to create content with their audiences front-of-mind. It is what drives Cialdini’s Influence Theory, which indicates that people tend to follow the actions of others, especially in ambiguous situations. That is the value proposition for people who follow them as well as brands that partner with them. But influencers increasingly create content and establish brand partnerships to fuel the larger algorithm. This allows them to drive audience growth and hit their key performance indicators. However, it also means they risk losing any niche credibility or authenticity they worked so hard to claim.
Once-distinct content brands are following the same tips and “hacks” to slot in social feeds. They may benefit from getting more eyes, and possibly fulfilling certain brand KPI requirements, but influencers are increasingly creating content for an unaware and unengaged audience. This is when trust and influence become at risk. “Audiences can spot when a creator has never mentioned a product organically and then is suddenly claiming that a particular product is ‘the best,’” Orelaja notes.
Sure, no one likes to buy a product that isn’t actually trusted or recommended, but in some cases, inauthenticity leads to more sinister outcomes. This is increasingly becoming an issue in the health and wellness market, which has “lifestyle influencers” promoting new, “healthy” protein powders, wellness supplements, and weight-loss regimens that don’t have the level of quality they promise.
“You've got people who are actively seeking things out, and they find themselves down rabbit holes, peddling misinformation of one kind or another,” notes Mark Frankel, Head of Public Affairs at Full Fact, an independent fact checking organization. In the misinformation epidemic, Frankel notes that some responsibility should be placed on the platforms themselves. They establish a space that gives unwarranted power to creators, leaving audiences vulnerable to unwanted recommendations. But that doesn’t mean the brands and creators shouldn’t be held accountable. “I think the platforms are providing an environment for people to operate within, and they set the terms of play,” he explains. “The fact that I could set up, as a pseudo-scientific expert on TikTok, that's still down to me, isn't it? And if I decide to peddle things that are scientifically unsubstantiated, that is down to me. But the fact that I can do that with relative ease on platforms is concerning.”
Is it wrong to give all influencers a bad name when many are qualified in the spaces they promote and add value to creator conversation? Dr. Tommy Martin is one example as a health creator who looks to dispel misinformation while offering fun and authentic insight into his personal and family life. Yet his true “service” to followers is when he reshares influencers’ content and analyzes their claims, line by line.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they're no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They're looking for ways to best sell to them.
Ultimately, Frankel believes that building a trusting relationship is a two-way street between brands and creators. However, the onus ultimately lies with brands doing their due diligence when researching potential influencer partners. “If a brand is going to choose somebody to represent them whose basis is not solid in evidence and a real understanding of what they're peddling, I think they're clearly opening themselves up to problems down the line because people could be misled,” he explains.
Who Pays the Price for Inauthentic Influence?
At a time when consumers are challenging the integrity of influencer campaigns and partnerships, what is the decision metric for the ultimate partnership?
The personal monetary benefit likely serves as a pleasant compromise for some influencers, but how many prioritize dollar signs over their own values? After all, when you isolate your audience, the deals stop coming. “If the talent doesn’t feel aligned, it can absolutely come across as inauthentic, which is a risk for both the brand and the audience,” Orelaja says.
Given this risk, “most influencers are highly selective about the brands they work with because they value their relationship with their audience,” Orelaja says. “When it's forced, it tends to have a negative impact on the performance of the content.”
Likewise, brands also risk the PR headaches, and revenue hits, that come when they make an insensitive or irrelevant choice in a partner. Luckily for brands, they have an advantage now: millions of people consider themselves as “influencers”—an ever-growing pool to choose from. It makes it more likely to find someone who already uses their products and actually engages with their target market. If an influencer is “cancelled” or suddenly considered irrelevant, brands can easily find a replacement that delivers similar metrics for the same or a lower cost.
Do both influencers and brands suffer the same level of risk? With controversial brand moves, such as Tarte Cosmetics’ influencer trips, there is a more lasting impact on the brand than the creator. But is all press good press for brands, especially in an age where rage often leads to engagement, and engagement leads to revenue?
Orelaja predicts that brands will aim to minimize risk by diversifying their creator partnerships and collaborating with influencers based on strategic long-term alignment, not follower counts. “We’ll likely see more niche influencers, as audiences are looking for more personalized and relevant content,” she says. “The rise of micro- and nano-influencers will continue, with brands seeking more targeted and authentic connections.”
As the creator economy continues to evolve, perhaps Cialdini's principles need updating for the digital age. Today's manufactured authenticity represents something deeper than just "liking" or "social proof"—it's become its own principle of influence, one based on the strategic performance of unfiltered realness.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself.
A makeup influencer's hand trembles as she holds up a serum bottle, voice cracking while she confesses her skin insecurities. Across town, a finance creator meticulously disarranges his desk before filming his 'casual' money advice. Meanwhile, a wellness guru carefully positions the 'accidental' corner of a sponsored protein powder in the background of her morning routine video.
Welcome to the age of programmatic personality, where authenticity has become social currency. What began as a refreshing antidote to polished corporate marketing has evolved into its own highly calculated industry.
This performance of authenticity comes at a time when trust in institutions—be it government, business, or media—is at an all-time low. As 'authenticity' transitions from north star to marketing checkbox, the very term has begun to collapse under the weight of its contradictions. When algorithms reward vulnerability, personality becomes performance, and the line between genuine connection and commercial transaction blurs beyond recognition.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself. But as content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, the question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
The Performance Economy: When Being 'Real' Became Really Profitable
The consequences extend beyond mere cynicism. Content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, sometimes promoting irrelevant, ineffective, or even dangerous products. The question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
This evolution challenges even Robert Cialdini's seminal theory of influence, which identified six principles that drive human persuasion: reciprocity, commitment, social proof, authority, liking, and scarcity.
In today's creator economy, we may be witnessing the emergence of a seventh principle: performed authenticity—a paradoxical form of influence where the appearance of genuineness becomes more persuasive than genuineness itself.
Fifi Afobe Orelaja, Director of DASH Talent, a UK-based agency specializing in influencer partnerships, acknowledges growing skepticism surrounding the term. “Many brands use the term ‘authenticity’ in their marketing without studying the needs, behaviors, and feelings of the audience,” she says. “When brands and influencers focus on truly understanding and connecting with their audience, the term becomes more meaningful, not just another marketing ploy.”
The overwhelming presence and monetization of influencers may be somewhat to blame.
Aristotle’s Rhetoric indicates that persuasion is tied to character or credibility (ethos), emotion (pathos), and rationality or reason (logos). Some of the world’s most valuable influencers have reached their level of stature because they have successfully tapped into all three appeals while creating content and building candor with their followers. But it's their cultivation of perceived authenticity that truly distinguishes them in a crowded market.
Now, the creator economy has reached a whole new level of size and impact. Storybox estimates 127 million social media users now consider themselves “influencers,” and 40% of US adults follow at least one of them. And with 75% of people using social media to get purchasing advice, Gen Z consumers now trust influencers more than celebrities.
Celebrities or supermodels were once the stars of splashy marketing campaigns. They were considered a critical investment; an indicator of whether a brand and its products were culturally relevant. The likes of Julia Roberts or Naomi Campbell have been supplemented—if not replaced—by Charli D'Amelio, Addison Rae, and Alexandra Saint Mieu. For brands, influencers’ main value stems from their ability to convince an audience that they simply need every item they share—whether it be a new Amazon-brand summer ‘fit, or the latest product from Scrub Daddy.
Macro- and micro-influencers have mass appeal, but brands shouldn’t sleep on trusted “nano- influencers.” who offer marginally smaller followings.
Why? Because while KPIs like reach are important, brands need to closely watch whose content converts to cash. Nano-influencers’ follower counts are smaller, but that means these communities are more accessible, tight-knit, and communicative, so these influencers’ ability to truly deliver on the authenticity promise is high.
Fundamentally, a creator’s authenticity is conjunctive with one’s ability to garner a loyal and active network through their online presence, whether it be through Instagram’s Reels, viral TikTok videos, or curated collections on shoppable content-driven apps like LTK. Moreover, their ability to relate to and garner trust from their audience is directly correlated to how fiscally valuable they can be to a brand. If an audience truly trusts the influencers they follow, they’re more likely to buy the items, services, and experiences they recommend.
Authenticity™: The Commodification of Vulnerability
As a result, creators are sharing and over-sharing to prove just how authentic they are. The authenticity race has even been an excuse to market (even sell) vulnerability, with influencers crying on cue becoming the norm.
Trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, but authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands.
Influencers are battling it out to prove who is the most authentic, relatable, and in touch with their audience. But who decides that these influencers have influence and are actually trustworthy? Is it the herd mentality of loyal fans and followers that sways the market? Maybe this comes when industry insiders decide their opinions matter. Take YouTuber Nico Leonard as an example. His reputation in the luxury watch market is synonymous with his personal hatred towards heritage Swiss watchmaker Hublot. He is known, and respected, for his brutal honesty—something that tends to disappear the bigger and more profitable an influencer gets. Nico even has no shame in changing his opinions, an even rarer occurrence in the creator world.
While trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands. Influencers are being “found out” by their followers and scorched online for promoting an item they don’t actually use or for partnering with a brand that doesn’t align with the values they tout online.
In one of the most extreme cases, a group of influencers were put on blast for going on a sponsored trip from SHEIN to Guangzhou, China, where they were promised an inside look into the fast-fashion giant’s operations. Fans and followers questioned these creators’ motives and their integrity, especially considering SHEIN’s alleged labor abuses and environmental impact.
As a result, consumers’ trust in influencers is starting to wane. Morning Consult found that the share of social media users who trust influencers dropped five percentage points over the same time last year. Orelaja notes that consumers are valid for calling out what feels disingenuous. “It’s a fair criticism, especially if the influencer is portraying themselves as a true advocate for the product but isn’t using it in their day-to-day life,” she says. “Audiences value transparency and authenticity, so if influencers are caught promoting products they don't actually use, it can erode trust.”
The Credibility Paradox: Trust in an Age of Algorithms
The peak of influencer fame comes when personal brands become large enough to create organic demand for their own products. Why are brands like Chamberlain Coffee and Unwell Hydration such marketable propositions when neither Emma Chamberlain nor Alex Cooper grew their followings as beverage-adjacent content creators? Surely it makes more sense when a beauty siloed influencer releases a beauty product?
“Influencers have the advantage of direct insight into what their followers want and need,” Orelaja explains, perhaps unlocking the secret to a creator-founded brand. There is a reason influencers quit their 9-to-5 jobs to create content full-time: because they understand their target audiences well enough to monetize them in the best way.
Arguably, this is when the authenticity myth has the potential to reach its peak.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they’re no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They’re looking for ways to best sell to them, whether it be through sponsorship deals or through new branded products and partnerships. For YouTubers Mr. Beast, Logan Paul, and KSI, that means creating a “healthier alternative” to Lunchables that includes their additive-filled products and, in some cases, mold. The cult of personality got them the required buzz to ensure a successful launch, but a lack of operational oversight kicked community criticism into high gear.
From Influence to Industry: When Personalities Become Products
Influencers are supposed to create content with their audiences front-of-mind. It is what drives Cialdini’s Influence Theory, which indicates that people tend to follow the actions of others, especially in ambiguous situations. That is the value proposition for people who follow them as well as brands that partner with them. But influencers increasingly create content and establish brand partnerships to fuel the larger algorithm. This allows them to drive audience growth and hit their key performance indicators. However, it also means they risk losing any niche credibility or authenticity they worked so hard to claim.
Once-distinct content brands are following the same tips and “hacks” to slot in social feeds. They may benefit from getting more eyes, and possibly fulfilling certain brand KPI requirements, but influencers are increasingly creating content for an unaware and unengaged audience. This is when trust and influence become at risk. “Audiences can spot when a creator has never mentioned a product organically and then is suddenly claiming that a particular product is ‘the best,’” Orelaja notes.
Sure, no one likes to buy a product that isn’t actually trusted or recommended, but in some cases, inauthenticity leads to more sinister outcomes. This is increasingly becoming an issue in the health and wellness market, which has “lifestyle influencers” promoting new, “healthy” protein powders, wellness supplements, and weight-loss regimens that don’t have the level of quality they promise.
“You've got people who are actively seeking things out, and they find themselves down rabbit holes, peddling misinformation of one kind or another,” notes Mark Frankel, Head of Public Affairs at Full Fact, an independent fact checking organization. In the misinformation epidemic, Frankel notes that some responsibility should be placed on the platforms themselves. They establish a space that gives unwarranted power to creators, leaving audiences vulnerable to unwanted recommendations. But that doesn’t mean the brands and creators shouldn’t be held accountable. “I think the platforms are providing an environment for people to operate within, and they set the terms of play,” he explains. “The fact that I could set up, as a pseudo-scientific expert on TikTok, that's still down to me, isn't it? And if I decide to peddle things that are scientifically unsubstantiated, that is down to me. But the fact that I can do that with relative ease on platforms is concerning.”
Is it wrong to give all influencers a bad name when many are qualified in the spaces they promote and add value to creator conversation? Dr. Tommy Martin is one example as a health creator who looks to dispel misinformation while offering fun and authentic insight into his personal and family life. Yet his true “service” to followers is when he reshares influencers’ content and analyzes their claims, line by line.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they're no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They're looking for ways to best sell to them.
Ultimately, Frankel believes that building a trusting relationship is a two-way street between brands and creators. However, the onus ultimately lies with brands doing their due diligence when researching potential influencer partners. “If a brand is going to choose somebody to represent them whose basis is not solid in evidence and a real understanding of what they're peddling, I think they're clearly opening themselves up to problems down the line because people could be misled,” he explains.
Who Pays the Price for Inauthentic Influence?
At a time when consumers are challenging the integrity of influencer campaigns and partnerships, what is the decision metric for the ultimate partnership?
The personal monetary benefit likely serves as a pleasant compromise for some influencers, but how many prioritize dollar signs over their own values? After all, when you isolate your audience, the deals stop coming. “If the talent doesn’t feel aligned, it can absolutely come across as inauthentic, which is a risk for both the brand and the audience,” Orelaja says.
Given this risk, “most influencers are highly selective about the brands they work with because they value their relationship with their audience,” Orelaja says. “When it's forced, it tends to have a negative impact on the performance of the content.”
Likewise, brands also risk the PR headaches, and revenue hits, that come when they make an insensitive or irrelevant choice in a partner. Luckily for brands, they have an advantage now: millions of people consider themselves as “influencers”—an ever-growing pool to choose from. It makes it more likely to find someone who already uses their products and actually engages with their target market. If an influencer is “cancelled” or suddenly considered irrelevant, brands can easily find a replacement that delivers similar metrics for the same or a lower cost.
Do both influencers and brands suffer the same level of risk? With controversial brand moves, such as Tarte Cosmetics’ influencer trips, there is a more lasting impact on the brand than the creator. But is all press good press for brands, especially in an age where rage often leads to engagement, and engagement leads to revenue?
Orelaja predicts that brands will aim to minimize risk by diversifying their creator partnerships and collaborating with influencers based on strategic long-term alignment, not follower counts. “We’ll likely see more niche influencers, as audiences are looking for more personalized and relevant content,” she says. “The rise of micro- and nano-influencers will continue, with brands seeking more targeted and authentic connections.”
As the creator economy continues to evolve, perhaps Cialdini's principles need updating for the digital age. Today's manufactured authenticity represents something deeper than just "liking" or "social proof"—it's become its own principle of influence, one based on the strategic performance of unfiltered realness.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself.
A makeup influencer's hand trembles as she holds up a serum bottle, voice cracking while she confesses her skin insecurities. Across town, a finance creator meticulously disarranges his desk before filming his 'casual' money advice. Meanwhile, a wellness guru carefully positions the 'accidental' corner of a sponsored protein powder in the background of her morning routine video.
Welcome to the age of programmatic personality, where authenticity has become social currency. What began as a refreshing antidote to polished corporate marketing has evolved into its own highly calculated industry.
This performance of authenticity comes at a time when trust in institutions—be it government, business, or media—is at an all-time low. As 'authenticity' transitions from north star to marketing checkbox, the very term has begun to collapse under the weight of its contradictions. When algorithms reward vulnerability, personality becomes performance, and the line between genuine connection and commercial transaction blurs beyond recognition.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself. But as content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, the question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
The Performance Economy: When Being 'Real' Became Really Profitable
The consequences extend beyond mere cynicism. Content creators who were once beacons of trusted guidance increasingly feed algorithms rather than audiences, sometimes promoting irrelevant, ineffective, or even dangerous products. The question is no longer whether influencers are authentic, but whether authenticity itself can survive its own commercialization.
This evolution challenges even Robert Cialdini's seminal theory of influence, which identified six principles that drive human persuasion: reciprocity, commitment, social proof, authority, liking, and scarcity.
In today's creator economy, we may be witnessing the emergence of a seventh principle: performed authenticity—a paradoxical form of influence where the appearance of genuineness becomes more persuasive than genuineness itself.
Fifi Afobe Orelaja, Director of DASH Talent, a UK-based agency specializing in influencer partnerships, acknowledges growing skepticism surrounding the term. “Many brands use the term ‘authenticity’ in their marketing without studying the needs, behaviors, and feelings of the audience,” she says. “When brands and influencers focus on truly understanding and connecting with their audience, the term becomes more meaningful, not just another marketing ploy.”
The overwhelming presence and monetization of influencers may be somewhat to blame.
Aristotle’s Rhetoric indicates that persuasion is tied to character or credibility (ethos), emotion (pathos), and rationality or reason (logos). Some of the world’s most valuable influencers have reached their level of stature because they have successfully tapped into all three appeals while creating content and building candor with their followers. But it's their cultivation of perceived authenticity that truly distinguishes them in a crowded market.
Now, the creator economy has reached a whole new level of size and impact. Storybox estimates 127 million social media users now consider themselves “influencers,” and 40% of US adults follow at least one of them. And with 75% of people using social media to get purchasing advice, Gen Z consumers now trust influencers more than celebrities.
Celebrities or supermodels were once the stars of splashy marketing campaigns. They were considered a critical investment; an indicator of whether a brand and its products were culturally relevant. The likes of Julia Roberts or Naomi Campbell have been supplemented—if not replaced—by Charli D'Amelio, Addison Rae, and Alexandra Saint Mieu. For brands, influencers’ main value stems from their ability to convince an audience that they simply need every item they share—whether it be a new Amazon-brand summer ‘fit, or the latest product from Scrub Daddy.
Macro- and micro-influencers have mass appeal, but brands shouldn’t sleep on trusted “nano- influencers.” who offer marginally smaller followings.
Why? Because while KPIs like reach are important, brands need to closely watch whose content converts to cash. Nano-influencers’ follower counts are smaller, but that means these communities are more accessible, tight-knit, and communicative, so these influencers’ ability to truly deliver on the authenticity promise is high.
Fundamentally, a creator’s authenticity is conjunctive with one’s ability to garner a loyal and active network through their online presence, whether it be through Instagram’s Reels, viral TikTok videos, or curated collections on shoppable content-driven apps like LTK. Moreover, their ability to relate to and garner trust from their audience is directly correlated to how fiscally valuable they can be to a brand. If an audience truly trusts the influencers they follow, they’re more likely to buy the items, services, and experiences they recommend.
Authenticity™: The Commodification of Vulnerability
As a result, creators are sharing and over-sharing to prove just how authentic they are. The authenticity race has even been an excuse to market (even sell) vulnerability, with influencers crying on cue becoming the norm.
Trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, but authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands.
Influencers are battling it out to prove who is the most authentic, relatable, and in touch with their audience. But who decides that these influencers have influence and are actually trustworthy? Is it the herd mentality of loyal fans and followers that sways the market? Maybe this comes when industry insiders decide their opinions matter. Take YouTuber Nico Leonard as an example. His reputation in the luxury watch market is synonymous with his personal hatred towards heritage Swiss watchmaker Hublot. He is known, and respected, for his brutal honesty—something that tends to disappear the bigger and more profitable an influencer gets. Nico even has no shame in changing his opinions, an even rarer occurrence in the creator world.
While trust is the currency of most online transactions, especially influenced by social media, authenticity is no longer organic. In fact, it increasingly feels like a stylized marketing stunt manufactured by brands. Influencers are being “found out” by their followers and scorched online for promoting an item they don’t actually use or for partnering with a brand that doesn’t align with the values they tout online.
In one of the most extreme cases, a group of influencers were put on blast for going on a sponsored trip from SHEIN to Guangzhou, China, where they were promised an inside look into the fast-fashion giant’s operations. Fans and followers questioned these creators’ motives and their integrity, especially considering SHEIN’s alleged labor abuses and environmental impact.
As a result, consumers’ trust in influencers is starting to wane. Morning Consult found that the share of social media users who trust influencers dropped five percentage points over the same time last year. Orelaja notes that consumers are valid for calling out what feels disingenuous. “It’s a fair criticism, especially if the influencer is portraying themselves as a true advocate for the product but isn’t using it in their day-to-day life,” she says. “Audiences value transparency and authenticity, so if influencers are caught promoting products they don't actually use, it can erode trust.”
The Credibility Paradox: Trust in an Age of Algorithms
The peak of influencer fame comes when personal brands become large enough to create organic demand for their own products. Why are brands like Chamberlain Coffee and Unwell Hydration such marketable propositions when neither Emma Chamberlain nor Alex Cooper grew their followings as beverage-adjacent content creators? Surely it makes more sense when a beauty siloed influencer releases a beauty product?
“Influencers have the advantage of direct insight into what their followers want and need,” Orelaja explains, perhaps unlocking the secret to a creator-founded brand. There is a reason influencers quit their 9-to-5 jobs to create content full-time: because they understand their target audiences well enough to monetize them in the best way.
Arguably, this is when the authenticity myth has the potential to reach its peak.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they’re no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They’re looking for ways to best sell to them, whether it be through sponsorship deals or through new branded products and partnerships. For YouTubers Mr. Beast, Logan Paul, and KSI, that means creating a “healthier alternative” to Lunchables that includes their additive-filled products and, in some cases, mold. The cult of personality got them the required buzz to ensure a successful launch, but a lack of operational oversight kicked community criticism into high gear.
From Influence to Industry: When Personalities Become Products
Influencers are supposed to create content with their audiences front-of-mind. It is what drives Cialdini’s Influence Theory, which indicates that people tend to follow the actions of others, especially in ambiguous situations. That is the value proposition for people who follow them as well as brands that partner with them. But influencers increasingly create content and establish brand partnerships to fuel the larger algorithm. This allows them to drive audience growth and hit their key performance indicators. However, it also means they risk losing any niche credibility or authenticity they worked so hard to claim.
Once-distinct content brands are following the same tips and “hacks” to slot in social feeds. They may benefit from getting more eyes, and possibly fulfilling certain brand KPI requirements, but influencers are increasingly creating content for an unaware and unengaged audience. This is when trust and influence become at risk. “Audiences can spot when a creator has never mentioned a product organically and then is suddenly claiming that a particular product is ‘the best,’” Orelaja notes.
Sure, no one likes to buy a product that isn’t actually trusted or recommended, but in some cases, inauthenticity leads to more sinister outcomes. This is increasingly becoming an issue in the health and wellness market, which has “lifestyle influencers” promoting new, “healthy” protein powders, wellness supplements, and weight-loss regimens that don’t have the level of quality they promise.
“You've got people who are actively seeking things out, and they find themselves down rabbit holes, peddling misinformation of one kind or another,” notes Mark Frankel, Head of Public Affairs at Full Fact, an independent fact checking organization. In the misinformation epidemic, Frankel notes that some responsibility should be placed on the platforms themselves. They establish a space that gives unwarranted power to creators, leaving audiences vulnerable to unwanted recommendations. But that doesn’t mean the brands and creators shouldn’t be held accountable. “I think the platforms are providing an environment for people to operate within, and they set the terms of play,” he explains. “The fact that I could set up, as a pseudo-scientific expert on TikTok, that's still down to me, isn't it? And if I decide to peddle things that are scientifically unsubstantiated, that is down to me. But the fact that I can do that with relative ease on platforms is concerning.”
Is it wrong to give all influencers a bad name when many are qualified in the spaces they promote and add value to creator conversation? Dr. Tommy Martin is one example as a health creator who looks to dispel misinformation while offering fun and authentic insight into his personal and family life. Yet his true “service” to followers is when he reshares influencers’ content and analyzes their claims, line by line.
When influencers use data and analytics to mine audience insights, they're no longer looking for ways to best serve the people who know and trust them. They're looking for ways to best sell to them.
Ultimately, Frankel believes that building a trusting relationship is a two-way street between brands and creators. However, the onus ultimately lies with brands doing their due diligence when researching potential influencer partners. “If a brand is going to choose somebody to represent them whose basis is not solid in evidence and a real understanding of what they're peddling, I think they're clearly opening themselves up to problems down the line because people could be misled,” he explains.
Who Pays the Price for Inauthentic Influence?
At a time when consumers are challenging the integrity of influencer campaigns and partnerships, what is the decision metric for the ultimate partnership?
The personal monetary benefit likely serves as a pleasant compromise for some influencers, but how many prioritize dollar signs over their own values? After all, when you isolate your audience, the deals stop coming. “If the talent doesn’t feel aligned, it can absolutely come across as inauthentic, which is a risk for both the brand and the audience,” Orelaja says.
Given this risk, “most influencers are highly selective about the brands they work with because they value their relationship with their audience,” Orelaja says. “When it's forced, it tends to have a negative impact on the performance of the content.”
Likewise, brands also risk the PR headaches, and revenue hits, that come when they make an insensitive or irrelevant choice in a partner. Luckily for brands, they have an advantage now: millions of people consider themselves as “influencers”—an ever-growing pool to choose from. It makes it more likely to find someone who already uses their products and actually engages with their target market. If an influencer is “cancelled” or suddenly considered irrelevant, brands can easily find a replacement that delivers similar metrics for the same or a lower cost.
Do both influencers and brands suffer the same level of risk? With controversial brand moves, such as Tarte Cosmetics’ influencer trips, there is a more lasting impact on the brand than the creator. But is all press good press for brands, especially in an age where rage often leads to engagement, and engagement leads to revenue?
Orelaja predicts that brands will aim to minimize risk by diversifying their creator partnerships and collaborating with influencers based on strategic long-term alignment, not follower counts. “We’ll likely see more niche influencers, as audiences are looking for more personalized and relevant content,” she says. “The rise of micro- and nano-influencers will continue, with brands seeking more targeted and authentic connections.”
As the creator economy continues to evolve, perhaps Cialdini's principles need updating for the digital age. Today's manufactured authenticity represents something deeper than just "liking" or "social proof"—it's become its own principle of influence, one based on the strategic performance of unfiltered realness.
In a world where authenticity is both commodity and currency, perhaps the most radical approach is honesty about the performance itself.
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