Love Island effect: The unrealistic beauty and dating standards of reality TV

Indian Express

6 days ago

Love Island USA wrapped up its latest season earlier this month. Like its previous renditions, Season 7 moved just as relentlessly. Within seven days, Huda (Mustafa) and Jeremiah (Brown) had already coupled up, shared a bed, and were even talking about moving in together. At some point, Huda revealed to a fellow contestant, Nic (Vansteenberghe), that she was a mom. Nic called her 'Mamacita,' then asked in all naivety, 'Mom of what — a dog?' It was awkward, a little ridiculous, and instantly everywhere. Even if you have never watched a full episode of Love Island, you would have seen the clips. Whether it's through Instagram reels, reaction clips, or memes in group chats, the show finds a way to reach you.
The structure is simple. Gather a group of beautiful people, place them in a luxury villa, and see who couples up. They share beds within days, while producers introduce new contestants to test their loyalty. The public votes on who stays, and by the end of six weeks, they are expected to form serious relationships or at least make it look like they have. The pace stays intense, and the connections are shaped more by the demands of the format than by the people themselves.
For teenagers like me, these shows often become unwitting blueprints for how we begin to understand relationships. The stories unfold at triple speed, with perfect lighting and carefully edited reactions, building a version of romance that focuses more on momentum than on connection. Slow or uncertain beginnings start to feel like 'red flags', and not being chosen can feel less like part of a show and more like a sign that you weren't worth picking in the first place. The show is built around the thrill of being desired. Getting chosen becomes the prize. That logic does not stay inside the villa. It follows us home.
Over time, it becomes all too easy to associate love exclusively with sculpted abs, flawless skin, and bleached teeth. During the 2021 season of Love Island UK, Google searches for lip fillers rose by 49 per cent, searches for liposuction increased by 33 per cent, and mentions of Botox went up by 82 per cent. This growing trend of body dissatisfaction and desire for cosmetic procedures even earned the name 'the Love Island effect', driven by the show's promotion of narrow beauty standards.
According to a 2018 poll by the UK-based YouGov research firm, two in five women aged 18 to 34 who watched the show said they felt more self-conscious about their bodies and appearance after viewing it. Additional research from the feminist group Level Up found that nearly a third of viewers had considered dieting to lose weight. One in five viewers said they would whiten their teeth, and more than one in ten were more likely to consider getting lip fillers.
The contestants may change every season, but the body types stay the same. This constant repetition of a single body type shapes how we see ourselves, especially as teenagers still learning to navigate identity and self-worth. When shows continually reward the same physical features, they reinforce the idea that desirability depends on conforming to a narrow and often artificial standard. The more we see that version of beauty celebrated on screen, the more we internalise it as the only way to be wanted. It begins to distort how we relate to our bodies, how we measure ourselves against others, and what we come to expect from romantic attention. Beauty starts to feel less like something personal and more like a checklist, one that is difficult to reach and even harder to maintain.
This does not mean Love Island should be cancelled. It's fun, no doubt. But just because something is entertaining doesn't mean it is harmless.
Season 7 of Love Island USA became the most-watched original season of television on the streaming platform Peacock. It even had a huge social media presence, racking up 1.7 billion video views and impressions on Peacock-owned social channels. Research into past viewership shows that Love Island, a franchise that has existed since 2015 across countries, attracts a large audience aged between 16 and 24, a highly impressionable group. In 2019, the BBC reported that children as young as eight were also watching the programme, even though it aired after the 9 pm slot in the UK.
Arguably, the show's reach makes it a prevailing cultural phenomenon. Then there are spin-offs like Netflix's Too Hot to Handle or Perfect Match that follow similar formats. These shows shape how we think about intimacy, about bodies, about each other. Recognising that influence does not ruin the experience; it simply makes space for reflection. Streaming platforms could play a role in creating such a space by including short post-show segments that feature therapists or relationship educators to offer perspective on what the viewers have just watched and how it may shape their ideas about love, self-worth and appearance. These segments could even include former contestants to reveal the 'behind the scenes'. Greater transparency around the contestants' cosmetic treatments or enhancements could also help challenge the illusion that what we see on screen is completely natural or effortless.
Many schools have already begun teaching students media literacy. It is important to incorporate lessons on social and emotional learning and have conversations about how emotion and desire are constructed in reality television.
The goal is not to shame people for enjoying the show, but to give viewers the tools to recognise what is scripted, what is curated, and what deserves to be questioned rather than absorbed without thought. At the very least, we should be aware of what we are watching and what it's asking us to believe.
The writer is a student in Mumbai