How influencer marketing lost its edge

Fast Company

7 hours ago

Scroll through a TikTok feed, and you'll eventually come across someone—usually incredibly photogenic, with perfect teeth and flawless skin—extolling the virtues of some product or another, or a restaurant, or a destination. And then another. And another.
Influencer marketing is an unintended consequence of the social media revolution. Platforms like YouTube and TikTok allowed ordinary people to build followings—and, in a way, become celebrities. Brands and businesses soon latched onto these influencers, leveraging the trust they had with their audiences to advertise products.
Mia Maples and Linus Sebastian are the Serena Williams and George Foreman of the digital age: celebrities who can raise a company's profile with a single post, lending credibility to products with a young, energetic audience. Crucially, they allow marketers to reach consumers increasingly cynical toward traditional advertising, and even taking steps to shield themselves from it, whether by paying for ad-free subscriptions on YouTube and Spotify or using ad-blocking browser extensions.
That is, at least, the argument on paper. In practice, things are murkier. Reasonable questions remain about whether influencer marketing is as effective as once thought, or whether it still works at all.
What Even Is an Advertisement?
To understand the challenges facing influencer marketing, we first need to define what constitutes an advert. An advert is, in essence, any material—written, spoken, or audiovisual—that attempts to sell a product or service to a third party.
For brands, influencer marketing offers a way to connect with an elusive demographic. Gen-Z and Gen-Alpha don't read newspapers —and neither do many millennials—or consume much broadcast television or radio. They're tech-savvy, know how to block ads, and often pay to remove them from their services.
These consumers, skeptical of legacy media, likely feel differently about their favorite creators. When those creators tout a product, it can convey a level of credibility. These influencer-brand tie-ins may not feel like ads, but they are, and that's the intent behind them.
That is, at least, the theory. In practice, things work a little differently.
Waning Influence
Let me be clear: Influencer marketing still holds power, and value for brands. But its influence is often overstated, and we're now seeing diminishing returns.
First, there's ' influencer fatigue.' Brand deals are so common that almost everyone knows when their favorite creator posts a new video, a good portion will promote a VPN provider, budget headphones, or some other product.
These in-content ads are so ubiquitous (and often grating) that browser plug-ins now skip past them. SponsorBlock, for example, is the largest, with over two million Chrome users. Just as people might leave the room during TV commercials, they're now doing the same for online content.
Similarly, on apps like TikTok and Instagram, the '#ad' hashtag (the telltale sign of an influencer deal) often prompts users to immediately scroll. This almost reflexive, negative response is called 'influencer fatigue,' fueled by the overwhelming wave of promotional content on social media—and a growing annoyance with influencers themselves.
That's the thing: Influencers were once seen as a way to deliver advertising without it feeling like advertising. But over time—thanks to saturation—that's no longer true.
A Matter of Trust
There's also a growing trust gap between consumers and brands that lean heavily on influencers. Take PayPal-owned Honey, once promoted by some of YouTube's biggest creators. It was pitched as a free browser plug-in that scoured the web for discount codes.
In reality, Honey—later described as a 'scam' —siphoned affiliate revenue from those it was otherwise owed to—including, ironically, the very creators who promoted it. It also manipulated which codes were shown, hiding the most valuable ones.
Honey isn't alone. Other companies, like BetterHelp, also leaned on influencers, only to later land in controversy.
These scandals chip away at the credibility of influencer marketing. They make consumers wary of creators promoting new products—especially when those creators, often small one-person teams, lack the resources to vet what they're endorsing. The result: a decline in trust for both influencers and brands.
Evidence suggests this decline is real. A 2023 study from EnTribe found that just 12% of people are likely to buy products promoted by influencers—and 42% of those who did regretted it.
Then there's the issue of attribution. If a million people watch a video, how many truly saw the promotion—and didn't skip it, either manually or via a plug-in? How do you measure impact, beyond simple conversions tied to affiliate codes—which fail to capture brand awareness or perception?
Is Influencer Marketing Still the Future?
That's the $33 billion question, isn't it? I still believe the influencer economy holds value. Without it, we'd still face the same challenge: reaching an audience increasingly elusive to traditional advertising.
But as an industry, we need to recalibrate expectations and find more creative ways to reach younger consumers.
Though younger audiences live much of their lives online, they don't exist entirely behind screens. They leave the house—and outdoor advertising should be part of the strategy.
Podcasts. Streaming video. In-game advertising. And yes, even legacy media—when supported by the data—all have a role to play.
There's room for influencer marketing, too. But it alone isn't enough. And likely never was.