The fun of being Laila Blue, a virtual influencer in the UAE

While scrolling idly through Instagram sometime last year, I stumbled across the profile of Lil Miquela, an online star with a unique selling point — she wasn’t real. Sure, she had more than a million followers, supported real movements, wore real brands and had even released a song on Spotify — but that didn’t stop the fact that she was completely CGI.

Everything about her was carefully crafted, and audiences were hooked. After all, she challenged the status quo by proving that you don’t need to be rich or famous or good looking… or even real to be famous. The more I contemplated it, the more I was hooked too.

So, when the UAE got its own ‘virtual influencer’ in the form of Laila Blue earlier this year, I was excited… and a tad nervous. You see, anything — even a positive trend — created for the wrong reasons, diminishes the value of the trend as a whole. And I had interacted with a fair number of bloggers and influencers to know that some do not ruminate over their online actions.

Tentatively, I reached out to this virtual person. Is an interview possible? Yes, turned out it was. Even better, Laila Blue’s founder (called A as he/ she wishes to remain anonymous) had thought things through, down to the very last detail.

“Why Laila Blue?” I asked “Does the name stand for anything?”

“She’s half-French so Blue is an old nickname that came from Allez Les Bleus. She can be quite patriotic,” A answered.

“What did you keep in mind when developing her personality?” I asked next.

“She’s designed to make people question the reality of the virtual world and to spread positive, meaningful messages. The irony of people hating her because she’s different has not escaped her,” A replied.

What is it that draws us to like and follow nonexistent celebrities? “The absurdity of them,” says A. “They make people feel childlike in some ways — interacting with them and getting a response makes it fun.”

When filing this story, an editor focused on that part. “Who hates Laila?” she asked me. “How can you hate someone who isn’t even real?” The answer to that showed up almost as soon as the article was published. Many of the comments that poured in — ironically, online — were negative.

“This is the last thing the world needs” “Why give influencers so much credit?” “There are starving children across the world, and this is what you want to focus on?”

I understand the pushback. We’ve all done it — rolled our eyes when we heard the word ‘influencer’. Something about the concept is irksome. Who are these people? What gives them the right to ‘influence’ us? Do they think their lives are better than ours? Wait, are their lives actually better than ours?

Scrolling through their social media platforms, it certainly seems to. They’re young and fit, snacking on delicious food (which is presumably free) and wearing the latest brands (also presumably free). They’re lounging on sunny beaches, with fruity drinks in hand, while we’re toiling away under the fluorescent lightbulbs of office, watching their videos and living vicariously through them. What gives?

As A put it, “It’s a fascinating time for the concept of influence as whole. Influencers are equally lauded and loathed.” But, in my book, that only makes Laila Blue, and other virtual influencers, all the more fascinating.

In a world of filters and Facetune, she is built to be a commentary on society, while retaining the fun quotient. She doesn’t consider herself an influencer and isn’t trying to influence anyone (something she specifies in the original article). Instead, she’s getting us to think, and that’s what the best thing influencers can do.

Today, it’s easy to hate influencers. After all, we’ve all heard the stories of the odd social media star charging exorbitant amounts of money to promote products they don’t like or using bots to increase their number of followers. But while these bad apples are out there, there are others — like Laila — who are trying to post original content and be true to their followers. Perhaps, it’s up to us to decide who deserve our attention and our ‘likes’. In the meantime, here’s hoping that 2019 will be the year we see more depth from the people we consider influencers.

After all, fame is a powerful took and can be used to help a local business that deserves it, shed light on important causes and even raise money for charities. If you are an influencer, I hope you can be known for more than the food you eat and the brands you wear.

Until then, as Laila says, let’s focus on the love and lolz.

Something about the concept ‘influencer’ is irksome. Who are these people? What gives them the right to ‘influence’ us? Do they think their lives are better than ours? Wait, are their lives actually better than ours?