Is this the death of the influencer?

In a year not short on surprises, Wednesday saw Home Secretary Priti Patel launch a scathing attack on social media influencers, actively “showing off in sunny parts of the world”.

As the Government announced tighter restrictions on international journeys, now illegal for leisure purposes, Patel singled out this privileged and blinkered class of traveller for poor examples of Covid compliancy while the NHS is stretched to breaking point and the UK has just passed the grim milestone of 100,000 deaths.

Of course, the backlash against reality TV stars and social media influencers who have shamelessly exploited the loophole permitting “essential work travel” during lockdowns in order to escape to Dubai or the Maldives had already begun.

With most of their followers stuck indoors during the bleakest of British Januarys, juggling childcare with work commitments and dutifully obeying restrictions that stop them travelling several miles away to see their mum or a close friend, it’s hard to imagine more tone-deaf “social media content” than a bikini selfie in a Dubai hotel’s infinity pool, tagged #todaysoffice.

Unsurprisingly, many critics have voted with their clicks: reports suggest that Love Island stars Anton Danyluk, 25, and Laura Anderson, 31, lost around 1200-1400 followers each following their trips to Dubai. All of which begs the question: if an influencer becomes an irrelevance that no one can – or even wants to – emulate, what place do they have a place in the post-pandemic world?

In her new book, Influence: How Social Media Influencers are Shaping Our Digital Future, Sara McCorquodale defines influencers as “individuals who create editorialised content about their own life”, using social media platforms. But the pandemic, she notes “is definitely separating the wheat from the chaff”.

McCorquodale says: “Some influencers have been incredibly creative and responsive to the challenges of the past year. Others have carried on posting throwback pictures of themselves in luxury hotels, and I do think that it will only be the truly talented, conscientious and dedicated influencers who remain relevant to their followers, and therefore enticing to brands, and able to make serious money. And there is a lot of money to be made.”

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According to McCorquodale, who runs CORQ, a social media and digital trends platform, the fees influencers charge for collaborating with a brand varies from around £400 to as much as £20,000. In the past, top-tier influencers such as Kylie Jenner have commanded fees hovering around £940,000 for a single Instagram post about a skincare brand – but this sort of payout and content seems hopelessly outdated given the realities of today.

Fashion and lifestyle influencer Emily Johnston says she watched in horror as bikini bloggers and reality TV stars jetted off this January, much as she “loved writing about fun, frivolous stuff like fashion and travel” herself.

“Travelling to Dubai for a photo shoot and calling it ‘essential work’ is utterly irresponsible; I cannot imagine the mental Olympics you have to go through to justify this decision. And if you can’t do your job as an influencer from your home – just like everyone else who has to work from home – you do not deserve to call yourself an ‘influencer’ in 2021.” She sees her role, right now, in being a “calm, reassuring voice of reason, providing relatable, empathetic and responsible content that hopefully puts a smile on people’s faces”.

Lifestyle influencer Natalie Lee similarly had a “serious rethink” about what she offers her followers, particularly when it comes to wellbeing and mental health. “I feel like people need something else to focus on other than the grim news that is all around us, [but] it’s equally important to reflect how everyone is feeling and be honest about the ups and downs,” she says. “For example I do a journaling session every morning, asking open questions on my Instagram Stories so people have a place to vent about frustrations, and realise they’re not the only ones feeling the uncomfortable feelings arising during this pandemic. All this uncertainty is stressful, so if I can offer some regular helpful content it might help in some way.”

Former schoolteacher turned writer and podcaster, Chloe Combi, host of You Don’t Know Me, says that she is seeing young people increasingly turning their backs on the uber-glossy influencers who rely on a flawless personal brand. “This is partly because 2020 has seen enormous ideological shifts, so young people are more likely to look at people who genuinely want to make the world a better place – true ‘role models’,” she says, naming footballer and social justice campaigner Marcus Rashford as a more relevant influencer for 2021.

“But it’s also because the newer social media platforms such as TikTok and Discord – compared to Instagram – are less narcissistic and more conducive to activism, action and collaborations, so you’ll see discussions about transgender rights, or LGBTQ poetry slams, or women talking about body positivity. Really positive, impactful content.”

As a lifestyle journalist who also works in an influencer capacity on Instagram, I spent a few weeks last March questioning what on earth I could offer readers and followers during a pandemic. I amassed my modest 12k following by specialising in international culture and adventure travel, travelling the world to cover festivals and other big cultural events.

Would people ever want to see my boastful pictures of Texan music festivals or solo kayaking adventures ever again? Is there anything inspiring about a picture of a trip you can’t make yourself for the foreseeable future? For about a week, I felt completely irrelevant – until I worked out a new definition for the sort of “inspirational” or “uplifting” content I felt good about producing: lifestyle ideas that are achievable, affordable and accessible. I began posting about my regular sea swims and how cold-water swimming keeps me sane at a crazy time. I began posting my working-from home tips, and affordable hacks to make a one-bedroom flat in Margate function as a home office, fitness centre and have-a-go spa.

After all, the reason bloggers and influencers first gained followings was precisely because they seemed more relatable and real than glossy fashion magazines or TV presenters. Any influencers ignoring the realities facing normal people during a pandemic have negated their original appeal, and when trust goes, influence vanishes. It would be premature to call this the death of the influencer, but it seems certain only the fittest – the most relevant, relatable, responsible and entertaining – will survive.