aesthetically "authentic"

The coolest people you follow on Instagram are those who are unapologetically authentic.

The idea of loving someone who seems "real" and relatable is a pretty basic understanding, I'm sure. Alternatively, it's become increasingly realized to the point where authenticity, or at least the appearance of it, has become marketable. In Douglas Brundage's analysis of millennial marketing, he states that “Brands don't influence people, people do” (AdAge). Any college marketing major can tell you the first step to selling a product is to not sell the product but to instead sell a feeling, an experience, or a mindset. People want to give their attention to someone or something they can trust, and the best way for users to create a relationship with others is to convince them of their authenticity. The word has companies salivating and falling into what Brundage refers to as the “authenticity trap”, wherein which older, more established groups transparently and desperately try to relate to their younger audience, a la the Denny’s Twitter account tweeting memes and “roasting haters.” 

There are, however, a number of millennial-controlled brands that have used social media and a cult following to properly situate themselves as “one of us.” In her book entitled, Branding Authenticity: The politics and ambivalence in a Brand Culture, Sarah Banet-Weiser argues that social media provides a proper platform for millennials to become successful entrepreneurs like Glossier Founder and CEO Emily Weiss, or sculpted representatives like the instructors at SoulCycle. “Commodity activism takes shape within the logic and language of branding and is a compelling example of the ambivalence that structures brand culture. This kind of activism not only illustrates the contradictions contingencies, and paradoxes shaping consumer capital today but also exemplifies the connections- sometimes smooth, sometimes contradictory- between merchandising political ideologies, and consumer citizenship.” (Banet-Weiser, 16-17)  Both companies have found the recipe for this Instagram Kool-Aid that everyone is trying to emulate.

They were also both bred for success; It’s clear that both Glossier and SoulCycle had advantages that many start-ups don’t (Emily Weiss had the social status to propel Glossier, and SoulCycle's founders had the money), but what made them easy to endorse was the fact that they pioneered new directions in their field- Glossier prioritizing clean skin in an increasingly make-up heavy industry, and SoulCycle selling enjoyable exercise. They didn’t break away from the status quo enough to initially exclude certain demographics, just enough to be shared as somewhat ground-breaking. 

Both are extremely influential on Instagram and in the market of content-creators because they project the feeling of being unapologetically yourself. They may be selling the idea of authenticity, but they're not selling you individuality or acceptance. Brands like Glossier will post a few different versions of the same type of girl- a busy businesswoman from NYC, a 20-something who's *~quirky~* (thinks that drinking red wine is a personality trait), a jet-setter, and a white girl with a lifestyle blog (self-own).

I’m not necessarily critiquing Glossier’s model; It works extremely well and they’re a relatively inclusive brand that succeeds by tip-toeing the line between a business that needs to make money/advertise effectively, and a group of gals who share beauty tips and gas each-other up. It has, however, contributed to the environment of Instagrammers who follow a similar model for personal branding:

“I’m approach-ably silly and have a few flaws that I bravely accept, but I swear I will put every ounce of effort into making sure this Instagram story of my skin-care filled medicine cabinet makes you literally want to BE me.” 

I should clarify that wasn’t shade, cause I’ve definitely done this. For the most part, flexing on Instagram is harmless; It’s a social media account for you to post pictures and for your sorority sisters to comment stuff like “pretti <3” or “STUNNING” on them. The issue arises when you become more in tune with this goal of being perceived as relatably authentic than with yourself. For example, one time I spent an entire 20 minutes trying to take a boomerang of a book I had been reading in order to make people think I just was just constantly diving into new books, like in an “I’m so nerdy I love books because I’m intelligent and not superficial” kind of way. 

It was Trevor Noah’s “Born a Crime”, but all I really wanted to read that day was “The Pretty Committee Strikes Back” from the Clique series. 

That’s a pretty unimportant example, but the message stands that you may be missing out on doing things you really want to do because you might not be able to look cool or “chill” doing it. We become so busy with trying to brand "carefree" that we're putting ourselves into a box. You might go vegan to seem open-minded and adventurous when you really just want some mozzarella (wow, I’m crushing it today with the self-owns). Additionally, you’re not giving yourself the opportunity to truly indulge in your authentic self if the buck stops at how other people see you. 

It's scary knowing that for the most part, you have little control over what impression you give others. The terrifying reality is that there are millions of versions of yourself, so we're forced to carefully construct our profiles to show what we consider to be us in the hopes that everyone will be on the same page. We want our Instagrams to mirror what we hope others see, but in doing so we're falling into that corporate marketing trap of trying to be "cool" and instead potentially ending up as just a jumble of personal traits instead of a human being. Glossier and other big companies may need to succeed by following this broad marketing tactic of branding authenticity, but a person is not a business.

Every person I know or have met has their own impression of who Caroline Long is, but my impression of myself is the only one who can freely act. This means that true authenticity will never exist on social media- not on Instagram, not on Twitter, not on Snapchat- because they’re vehicles to drive us into the minds of others instead of tools to progress ourselves. And don’t get me wrong, I love Instagram, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get a good beach picture to post this summer, but it’s not really me and it never will be. 

At it's best, social media brings people together and can connect you with others, just don’t expect it to speak for you. 

-Banet-Weiser, Sarah. Authentic: the Politics of Ambivalence in a Brand Culture. New 

York University Press, 2012.

-Brundage., Douglas, and Douglas Brundage. “Beware the 'Authenticity Trap' When 

Marketing to Millennials.” Ad Age, 7 Oct. 2016,