There was once a time when social media platforms could fulfill our exact cravings at any given moment. Whether you went in looking for story times or muckbangs, each genre had its designated creators that we knew, loved, and trusted.
As we’ve transitioned from tween to adult media, our favorite creators have evolved alongside us, shifting from niches to more generalized content.
This phenomenon occurs when both algorithms and audience demand drive creators away from their original identities and into brand dilution.
As for victims of this commercialization, Emma Chamberlain may be the clearest case study.
Chamberlain’s career skyrocketed in 2017, as she gained popularity through her relatable YouTube vlogs. Her candid approach to intimate discussions about mental health and other “uncomfortable” topics made her stand out among other oversaturated LA content.
As her image boomed, Chamberlain scored collaborations and friendships with other popular creators. Currently, she is sponsored by Louis Vuitton, interviews for the Met Gala, owns a coffee shop, podcasts, and is frequently seen strolling with A-list celebrities. Her content now culminates in eerie montages of her luxurious adventures, a far cry from thrift hauls and cooking videos.
Positioned as one of the it-girls, Chamberlain has put her branding of the casual and relatable teenager at risk.
From my own perspective as a loyal viewer, it’s hard to understand how someone who is so unapologetically herself at the core can also seem so curated. While Chamberlain’s conversations remain genuine, and her videos are still raw, they are neither the content nor the persona that her original viewers signed up for.
Through that same lens, we could analyze a plethora of influencers, like Eva Gutowski and Alisha Marie. The pattern is familiar: start with a niche, grow an audience, and then look to appease as many people as possible. As they broaden their appeal, originality fades into the background.
There is a strategy to this process that creators have adopted. It involves knowing which content to direct towards the newer, curated audience and which to direct toward the original, authentic audience.
Some may argue that big influencers simply outgrew their niches and don’t owe us a certain personality, but at what point does growth cost them the very thing that made them special?
As the judgmental and offended consumer, it’s essential to recognize that creators themselves are not entirely at fault. It always seems to be female creators with big and long-lasting platforms who are trying to keep up with whatever is “trendy.” While some are called out in their fight to stay relevant, it’s the industry pressure that forces creators into oversaturation.
Maybe what feels like selling out is simply staying afloat.
Brands started betting on influencers’ personas, lifestyles, and aesthetics. Platforms like TikTok and Instagram reward trend-hopping and viral formats—then marketers create campaigns and partnerships based on these trends.
In other words, the niche was proclaimed dead, but the obituary turned out to be premature.
Young people still crave spaces that reflect their identities, places where they can see bits of themselves in authentic creators.
Tired of searching for authenticity in a sea of sameness, consumers have laid their trust in micro-influencers. With smaller platforms and nothing to lose, these creators feel approachable in ways celebrities no longer are.
This has resulted in the birth of the genuinely strange, often awkward creator. They have found a space where hyper-targeted audiences obsess over their genuineness and quirks. It’s the unmasked version of what authentic content used to look like.
They have started dominating the online landscape, with viewers seeing creators as equals, even friends. This intense parasocial connection has been key to an eccentric recipe for success.
Slowly but surely, this shift has formed a new space for micro-influencers to thrive, rebirthing niche culture.
In many ways, niche content was never really gone—it was just pushed to the side while we obsessed over flawless aesthetics.
Some of my favorites include Mickimama’s “dipping everything in my house in chocolate,” Kim Ebrahimi’s mid-store “thrift with me” try-ons, and Kiana Davis’ “ ultimate curly hair routine”.
As it turns out, niche content had to be reborn in the stranger corners of the internet. If its return can teach us one thing, it’s that people don’t crave perfection in their idols, just authenticity.
