Influencers
HAVING A mind of your own is increasingly coming at a premium.
When decisions are to be made do we dig down to our inner selves, summon up our resolve and stow the boots right in?
Well, some of us still do. Others are letting influencers do the job for them.
The rise of the influencer (even I worry whether I should cap up that word, so pervasive is its waft throughout the community) has been another of the barking mad manifestations of our times.
Given that they appear to speak in tongues, I’ve only got a fairly frail grasp on what they’re meant to do. Influencing must earn you some serious dollars though, otherwise why would someone set themselves up as some sort of psychoanalytical dollar dazzler to people so dilatory they can’t make up their own mind?
A cursory look at the average influencers reveals they are predominantly female, young and have perfect blindingly white teeth.
They use terms not generally heard in everyday conversation (‘inner core’, ‘energy radiation’, ‘pelvic awareness’, ‘paleolithic spirituality’, blah, blah) and they assiduously court anyone who’s been within a microdot of celebrity status.
Gwyneth is their goddess. Hollywood is awash with them. So, increasingly is Australia.
The boys are big here. Think Pete Evans and all that bone broth. Think Shane Warne and that hair.
Think little kids whose antics are considered so nauseatingly hilarious people pay to watch them online.
Figure out why girls fork out for advice on whether in these Covid-ridden times it’s acceptable to slouch about in public in trackies, and what’s the best way to glue on fake eyelashes.
Influencers influence the rich, the moderately well off and (goes without saying) the A-listers, another term I find hard to get to grips with.
We don’t seem to have a lot of A-listers on the ground here in the valley.
Even the odd person who gets a bit of a run on the telly and the people who write reams and reams of letters about the gaol at/or not at Westbury fall short of what’s required to slot into that status – improbably radiant charisma, looking cool in a snap-brim fedora a la Dave Graney (now there’s an influencer for you), even a slot on Dancing With The Stars, which can go a long way.
It therefore follows that unless you win Tattslotto, crank out the quaddie at Moonee Valley or live your entire life on social media platforms your chances of rubbing shoulders with the likes of an influencer are fairly remote.
Influencing has become a multi-billion business. People, governments and charities are queuing up to be advised on how to do what they do.
The industry has attracted a motley collection of adherents to its ranks. Old gangsta rappers, models and quiz show contestants are springing out of the woodwork to spruik their latent influencer credentials.
The well heeled will pay their pennies and heed their advice. The rest of us will make do with that most reliable of all influencers, our grannies.
