Most people have a graveyard somewhere in the back of their bathroom cabinets. A promising-smelling viral serum that did nothing. After seeing someone appear incredibly sculpted on a phone screen, I bought a contour stick at midnight. At least one TikTok creator with a quarter of a million views claims that a concealer that came in a cute box caused cystic acne. The goods accumulate. The drawers cease to close. At some point, presumably in early 2023, a critical mass of people decided they were tired of being sold things and began publicly expressing their disapproval.
Like any viral trend, de-influencing has a single origin story. The hashtag #deinfluencing surfaced, received 76 million TikTok views almost instantly, and continued to rise until it reached 208 million. A creator sits in front of a camera, holds up something they were instructed to want, and explains why you should put your wallet away. The format was straightforward and, as it turned out, incredibly satisfying to watch. The description does not contain any product codes. No links to discounts. Just someone being open about something they tried and didn’t like, or something they really don’t think is worth your money.
| Field | Details |
|---|---|
| Trend Name | De-influencing — content encouraging followers not to buy, or to buy less; opposite of traditional influencer marketing |
| Where It Originated | TikTok — primarily within beauty, fashion, and lifestyle content communities |
| #deinfluencing TikTok Views (Peak) | Over 208 million views by February 2023; started at 76 million views just days after going viral |
| Global Influencer Market Size (2024) | $24 billion USD — up from $4.6 billion in 2018 (Statista, 2024) |
| Number of Social Media Influencers Worldwide | 50 million people globally identify as social media influencers (SMIs) |
| Consumer Search Behavior Shift | Consumers searching for products via social media rose 43% since 2015 (GWI audience research) |
| Core De-Influencer Message | Authenticity, anti-overconsumption, environmentally conscious alternatives, rejection of hype-driven purchases |
| Academic Research Finding | De-influencing perceived as “morally responsible practice” — empowers followers to make more informed, less wasteful choices |
| Mental Health Dimension | De-influencing challenges unrealistic beauty standards; participants reported feeling more comfortable in themselves |
| Economic Context of Rise | Trend linked by creators to inflation, recession fears, and growing consumer fatigue with sponsored content |
| Key Criticism of the Trend | Still functions within capitalism — de-influencers often recommend alternative products, not pure non-consumption |
| Notable Early Example | Creator with 268,000+ views listing viral products to avoid — including concealers, pimple patches, contour sticks |
| Brand Risk | Viral de-influencing content can rapidly erode trust in sponsored products previously promoted by influencers |
The influencer market that this trend was opposing is a serious issue. The global influencer market grew from $4.6 billion just six years earlier to an estimated $24 billion by 2024. Given how completely the economics of attention had reorganized around personality-driven content, 50 million people worldwide identify as social media influencers of some kind. This number feels both enormous and, looking back, somewhat inevitable. Instead of being acknowledged as the structured commercial transaction it truly was, the standard format—creator receives product, creator posts enthusiastic content, followers purchase product—became so ingrained in the scrolling experience that it began to feel invisible.
De-influencing appealed to a particular weariness with that invisibility. The seams in sponsored content, such as the slightly too-perfect lighting, the affiliate link in the third line of the caption, and the enthusiasm that arrived a little too quickly and read a little too smooth, had become more noticeable to audiences. Because de-influencing lacked clear commercial motivation, followers perceived it as genuinely different from regular influencer content, according to academic researchers studying the trend. The trust calculation is altered when someone advises you against making a purchase. It feels like there’s something in it for you because there’s nothing in it for them. By definition, the de-influencer becomes the most trustworthy person in the room.
However, it’s important to be truthful about the limitations of that framing. De-influencing rarely equates to no consumption, as noted by the trend’s more astute detractors, many of whom wrote from a cultural studies perspective rather than a marketing one. Usually, it refers to varying consumption. After spending four minutes explaining why a $45 viral serum isn’t worth it, the creator will frequently suggest a $22 drugstore substitute. The market’s fundamental logic remains unaltered. Instead of being rejected, the transaction is redirected. Watching this unfold gives the impression that de-influencing is more of a correction within consumer culture than a rejection of it; it’s a recalibration of what is bought rather than a real challenge to the purchase itself. Depending on what you initially thought the trend was promising, it may or may not matter.
It is hard to completely ignore the economic timing. Early adopters of the de-influencing format noted, either explicitly or indirectly, that the trend felt linked to more general financial anxiety, including concerns about inflation, recession, and the general atmosphere of a time when discretionary spending was beginning to feel less carefree than it had previously. By 2023, the consumer who had spent the pandemic era clicking “add to cart” unusually frequently had reached a different place, staring at a bedroom full of merchandise and a credit card statement with questions. De-influencing created a community and a form for that mood. It transformed personal regret into a collective cultural statement—exactly the kind of transformation that TikTok excels at.
Although it may be the more enduring aspect of the trend, the mental health aspect received less attention. Beyond the impact on purchasing behavior, research on the effects of de-influencing revealed that viewers felt better about themselves after viewing this content. less insufficient. less certain that they had to possess certain items or have a particular appearance in order to be accepted. For years, the influencer market has made money off of people’s aspirations and insecurities in roughly equal measure, selling the difference between their actual appearance and what they might look like with the right products. At its best, de-influencing pushed back against the gap rather than just the products that filled it. That effect is less noticeable from a commercial standpoint and is quieter. It might also be the longer-lasting one.
