Influencer Culture Is Finally Dying. We Won’t Miss It.

The influencer era might finally be eating itself alive.

Not long ago, these walking product placements ruled the internet with their matcha routines and curated brunch visits. But somewhere between the six-hour morning self-care rituals and fake private jet studios, even the algorithm seems exhausted.

When a muscle bro went viral last month for a TikTok showing his 4 a.m. routine—complete with mineral water ice plunges and banana peel facials—the internet didn’t clap. It cringed. Users across the world posted their own parody versions: one guy dunked his face in chutney before a “scam call,” and grannies joined in with denture installs and toilet scrolls.

And that wasn’t an isolated case. Eight influencers in China were recently diagnosed with the same foot fungus after reportedly passing around a single pair of Gucci tights to look rich on camera. Meanwhile, Instagram account Influencers in the Wild (5.2 million followers and counting) continues to rack up views by exposing clout-chasers filming awkward, hyper-staged content in public.

Influencer Culture Is Finally Dying and Honestly, Good Riddance

People aren’t just laughing at influencers—they’re actively opting out. One report found that 34 percent of Gen Zers have ditched at least one social media app, according to Hill Holiday. And not a moment too soon for their parents. A 2023 survey found 56 percent of Gen Z wanted to be influencers. Compare that to Chinese kids, 56 percent of whom named “astronaut” as their dream job.

Luxury hotels are banning creators altogether after too many tried trading “exposure” for free stays. Studios now rent out faux private jet sets for $60 an hour to influencers desperate to fake first-class travel. Even fans are noticing how eerily samey the feed has become: rows of carbon-copy faces doing the same makeup routines, in the same soft lighting, promoting the same skin serum.

These days, being raw and relatable is more powerful than being polished. We’re done watching hyper-filtered routines from people who pretend they’ve hacked life—just give us someone who fumbles their words and forgets their skincare steps.

In a world where AI can spit out stunning faces, influencer content isn’t aspirational anymore. It’s annoying. The culture is oversaturated, over-rehearsed, and—maybe most importantly—out of touch.

The most viral figures right now aren’t flaunting their lives—they’re roasting them. TikTokers like @itsjojosiwa mocking their past personas, or people filming failed date nights and calling it a win. Relatability is back, and no one wants to be the person blocking airport walkways with a tripod anymore.

Influencer culture isn’t gone yet. But the spell has definitely broken. And in its place? A long-overdue appetite for messy, candor, and people who don’t pretend to have it all figured out.