The influencers are burned out, too

Earlier this month, the writer and English professor Barrett Swanson published a story in Harper’s about his five days at Clubhouse, the collective of dozens of college-aged social media hopefuls living in a smattering of content mansions in Los Angeles. He emerged with the sneaking suspicion that maybe all of this is bad, not only for the world but for the influencers themselves. “For a moment, I cannot remember who I am or why I am sitting here amid this sea of beautiful young people, all of them desperate for recognition, their whole lives ahead of them, empty at the absolute center,” he writes in the closing paragraph. “TikTok is a sign of the future, which already feels like a thing of the past. It is the clock counting down our fifteen seconds of fame, the sound the world makes as time is running out.” It’s easily the best and most depressing piece of journalism about famous TikTokers I’ve ever read, a “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” for influencers. Here are some things Swanson witnesses on his visit: a 19-year-old who just made $60,000 by filming a Lady and the Tramp-style kiss with his girlfriend as sponcon for a chicken-fingers joint; a…
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