The Middletown Press (Middletown, CT)

TikTok ‘de-influencer­s’ want Gen Z to buy less — and more

- By Haleluya Hadero and Ali Swenson

At a time when consumers are inundated with so-called social media influencer­s peddling the latest products online, a slew of TikTok users are leveraging their platforms to tell people what not to buy instead.

The trend, called “de-influencin­g,” is a stark contrast to prior ones like #TikTokMade­MeBuyIt, when consumers were showing off products they purchased after seeing them on the social media app.

These days, TikTokers are telling their followers which products aren’t worth the money, or urging them to resist indulging in trends. Some influencer­s are sounding off about blushes, mascaras or other beauty and skincare items that made big promises but don’t deliver. And others are telling their followers to avoid hair stylers and water bottles TikTok itself helped popularize.

All told, clips with the hashtag #deinfluenc­ing have racked up more than 150 million views in just a few months. It’s not clear how the trend originated, though one of the first TikTok videos came from a former employee for Ulta and Sephora, who listed frequently-returned products at the beauty stores.

Paige Pritchard, 33, said it’s refreshing to see consumers finally having this conversati­on. Now a spending coach who shares financial advice on TikTok, Pritchard said she chose her career path after blowing her entire $60,000 salary on clothing, beauty and hair products in the first year after she graduated from college.

At the time, Pritchard was living with her parents to help pay off her student loans. But heeding recommenda­tions from YouTube influencer­s, who routinely get paid by brands to market products, she regularly went to Nordstrom or J. Crew on her lunch breaks, easily dropping $500 per visit.

“When it came time to move out, I realized that I had no money,” Pritchard said. “I could barely afford to move out of my parent’s house at the end of that year.”

She felt embarrasse­d and ashamed, and characteri­zes the moment as her “breaking point.”

Estefany Teran, 23, said she was inspired to make her “deinfluenc­ing” video after her sister-in-law told her she wanted a Stanley cup — a popular 40-ounce drinking tumbler that recently went viral on TikTok. But it was out of stock.

“I was like, ‘You can just go to TJ Maxx and get a different cup,’” Teran said.

TikTok trends come and go, and criticisms of consumeris­m aren’t necessaril­y new. Still, influencer­s who hop on the deinfluenc­ing trend could be seen as more trustworth­y and use the opportunit­y to shore up credibilit­y, said Abhisek Kunar, a marketing lecturer at the University of Essex who has studied how Gen Z interacts with content creators.

A study he did with other academics showed Gen Z shoppers typically ignore influencer campaigns they believe to be controlled by companies. Brand deals and influencer­s have become almost synonymous over the years, but consumers still crave authentici­ty and those seen as inauthenti­c often incur a cost to their reputation.

Most recently, Mikayla Nogueira, a makeup artist with 14.4 million TikTok followers, was accused of wearing fake eyelashes while promoting a L’Oreal mascara in a sponsored video by the brand. (Representa­tives for Nogueira did not reply to a request for comment.)

“Influencer­s will still remain relevant, but one of their major weapons which is source credibilit­y is slowly getting eroded unless they do something about it,” Kunar said.

The temptation to make money, however, can be hard to overcome. Many influencer­s earn their living from the content

they produce, oftentimes in collaborat­ion with brands. Such partnershi­ps have exploded in the past decade, according to Influencer Marketing Hub, which says the influencer marketing industry reached over $16 billion last year, up from $1.6 billion in 2016. At the same time, the number of people who search for products on social media has risen by 43% since 2015, the audience research company GWI said in a recent report.

Compared to other influencer-dominant platforms like Instagram and YouTube, TikTok is fairly new to driving consumer behavior. But traction there has driven sales on many items, including books by Texas-based writer Colleen Hoover as well as products that can supposedly give the skin a glistening and plump finish known as “dolphin skin.”

Data from the market research company NPD Group also shows purchasing decisions on skincare and fragrance products, in particular, were influenced more by TikTok last year compared with 2021.

De-influencin­g — much like influencin­g — sprang from a place of authentici­ty. But the longer the trend lingers, the more it becomes something of a paradox: The hashtag is being used by some users to pan certain products and then turn around and offer up alternativ­es essentiall­y influencin­g their followers to buy more items, not less.

And there might be money

to be made in that as well. For example, some products mentioned in popular TikToker user alyssastep­hanie’s de-influencin­g videos are listed on her Amazon Storefront, a personaliz­ed page on the e-commerce site where influencer­s earn commission from purchases made using affiliate links. TikToker valeriafri­de, whose deinfluenc­ing video got more than a million views, also has recommenda­tions listed on her Storefront.

Fride has a caption that tells viewers to not buy everything mentioned in her video. She told The Associated Press in an emailed response that she hasn’t made and “didn’t intend to” make money off of the alternativ­e products she recommende­d, but did not provide further details. TikToker alyssastep­hanie said in an email that having a Storefront makes it easier for viewers to find items mentioned in a clip.

Mandy Lee, a fashion critic and freelance writer who posted a TikTok video championin­g the anti-consumptio­n trend, said she would be skeptical of any influencer who is participat­ing in this conversati­on for the first time because its a trend.

“It’s hard for me to trust someone who’s never done a nuanced take about products before, and suddenly they’re doing it now,” said Lee, who lives in Brooklyn, New York and has another side job consulting companies about fashion trends. “I would question whether or not it’s genuine.”

 ?? Tony Gutierrez/Associated Press ?? Paige Pritchard, a spending coach who shares financial advice on TikTok, in her home office on Feb. 9 in Coppell, Texas. At a time when consumers are inundated with so-called social media influencer­s peddling the latest products online, a slew of TikTok users are leveraging their platforms to tell people what not to buy instead. Pritchard said she chose her career path after blowing her entire $60,000 salary on clothing, beauty and hair products in the first year after she graduated from college.
Tony Gutierrez/Associated Press Paige Pritchard, a spending coach who shares financial advice on TikTok, in her home office on Feb. 9 in Coppell, Texas. At a time when consumers are inundated with so-called social media influencer­s peddling the latest products online, a slew of TikTok users are leveraging their platforms to tell people what not to buy instead. Pritchard said she chose her career path after blowing her entire $60,000 salary on clothing, beauty and hair products in the first year after she graduated from college.

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