Facing the camera, Valeria Fride brandishes a tube of gloss. But instead of extolling the benefits as one might expect, this young dark-haired woman launches into a diatribe: “super sticky”, “very expensive”, shade too discreet. Verdict? “I did not like it”.
The video, posted on TikTok, uses all the influencers’ codes with an opposite goal: to dissuade you from buying the product.
“It’s an honest version of what we see every day on social media,” Valeria Fride, 23, told AFP.
This is called “deinfluencing”, (la “désinfluence”, in French). The hashtag that corresponds to it is so popular that it peaks in early April at more than 430 million views on TikTok.
Its proponents advise against, for example, buying overpriced soaps or ultra-sophisticated dumbbells if you have just started exercising. And do not hesitate to ask you frontally if you “really need 25 different perfumes”.
The trend is dreamed of by the most convinced as a response to maddening inflation, even an anti-consumption movement. But is it ultimately just a way for influencers to reinvent themselves?
These little princes of marketing have become ubiquitous on social networks. Through videos, they promote mascara, tea, shoes or video games… generally for a fee.
Criticizing products therefore goes against their economic model. Valeria Fride also admits to having been “really afraid” of the reaction of the brands.
When one of the videos went viral, “I said to my mum: mum, I hope they don’t hate me”.
Since then, however, she has received partnership proposals from companies that have appreciated her disinfluence videos. A sign, according to her, that brands are evolving and looking for “more nuanced opinions”.
Jessica Clifton, a 26-year-old American influencer, explains that this trend resonated with her personal experience.
A few years ago, she became aware of the ecological impact of her consumption.
The young woman realizes that she receives clothes ordered on the internet “almost every day” and has a plethora of foundations and lipsticks – “I don’t even know how to use makeup!” – as well as… 56 pairs of shoes.
“I was like, oh my god, how did I get here?”
To spread the word, she opened an account dedicated to responsible consumption. So, seeing the trend of disinfluence, “I was so happy,” she explains.
Jessica Clifton herself posts several videos with this hashtag. But she quickly finds that more and more publications are not intended to discourage consumption, but simply to encourage “buying this product rather than another”.
“Disappointed”, she now considers that this trend has been partly hijacked by influencers who simply seek to “gain subscribers”.
A quick look at the latest videos posted on TikTok under this keyword also shows that, like Jessica Clifton, many are disenchanted.
But for Lia Haberman, influencer marketer at UCLA Extension, disinfluence being all the rage on the app right now is pushing users to take advantage of “all that attention” – regardless of their beliefs.
Seeing this movement as an anti-consumer revolution is “a misinterpretation”, which “does not correspond to the way the trend emerged”, she adds.
According to research firm Tubular Labs, the trend – which went truly viral in January – emerged in September, starring one Maddie Wells.
Far from being a fierce campaigner, the young influencer was simply using her background as a saleswoman in cosmetics stores to explain which products were disappointing customers.
These were fairly factual videos, “without really judging”, and even less political claim, explains Lia Haberman.
Disinfluence is a way to appear honest, while the word of influencers “is no longer perceived as authentic” by the public, who knows very well that they are paid, estimates Americus Reed II, professor of marketing at the prestigious Wharton School of Business.
He considers that it is also, quite simply, “a way of differentiating oneself”. Even if basically, according to him, “a disinfluencer remains an influencer”.
10/04/2023 14:46:09 – Washington (AFP) – © 2023 AFP