“I used to feel depressed and tired all the time until I started taking these supplements. My skin cleared up, and now I have more energy than I’ve had in years. If you’re ready to kickstart your wellness journey like I did, comment ‘ready!’ and I’ll send you my affiliate link. It’s the best-kept secret the health industry doesn’t want you to know about!”
Advertising is nothing new. We’ve always been surrounded by it—on billboards, between TV shows, and on the websites we browse. We know it’s there, and while it can be annoying, we’ve come to accept it. However, a new problem has emerged with the rise of social media: the line between entertainment and advertisement is getting harder to distinguish. Ads no longer come in the traditional forms we’re used to—TV commercials and pop-up banners. Now, they’re more personal, and that’s where things become tricky.
Influencers have built entire brands around selling products. They don’t just promote these products; they engage with us directly. They reply to our comments, answer questions, and even message us privately. Their posts are no longer just advertisements—they weave in personal narratives that make it hard to tell that we’re being marketed to. The line between genuine advice and a sales pitch is increasingly blurred.
Why does this matter? Selling products isn’t inherently wrong, but it does become a problem when the advertising is deceptive. Influencers often frame product placements as advice or guidance, making it difficult to differentiate between real recommendations and superficial sales tactics.
To understand this, we need to look at how these posts are designed to be so appealing. Influencers don’t just sell products—they sell themselves. They show us parts of their lives—like their morning routines or their pets—creating a falsely personal connection with us. They’ll share how a product changed their life. “I used to struggle with anxiety, but this one thing helped me feel better,” they might say, showing before-and-after photos. Their stories resonate with us because they feel authentic. We start to trust their recommendations, not realising that, in many cases, they’re being paid to promote these products. You might not see them as marketers, but as friends offering advice.
But the truth is, influencers are not there to solve your problems—they’re there to sell you more products. The wellness industry has turned self-care into a consumeristic cycle. Buy a candle, then a special candle lighter, then a bath bomb, and then a stand to hold the candle. This cycle feeds into the belief that happiness can be bought, but it’s never enough. The more you buy, the more you’re told you need.
Even more concerning is the way personal safety is marketed. Videos with titles like “How I stay safe as a woman living alone” target female-identifying viewers. These videos often feature products like pepper sprays, alarms, and self-defence gadgets. They’re marketed as “must-haves” but fail to address the deeper issues of personal safety. Instead, they reduce safety to just another consumer item. These products can be useful, but they’re not the whole solution. The real issue— gender based violence —is often ignored. While these products can help, the messaging suggests that safety is something you can purchase, commodifying a complex issue. It shifts the responsibility onto potential victims, rather than addressing the broader societal problems at play.
Similarly, influencers share their transformation stories, offering quick fixes for mental and physical health. They claim to have gone from feeling miserable to thriving, all thanks to a product, supplement, or routine. These stories tap into people’s vulnerabilities, offering something that feels attainable. But if mental health could be solved so easily, wouldn’t we all be better by now? These influencers prey on people’s desperation, creating new insecurities and presenting their products as the solution. The reality is more complicated—mental health and well-being require more than just a pill or a supplement.
The issue is that these endorsements are often so seamlessly integrated into content that it’s hard to tell when we’re being sold something. The line between real advice and advertising is increasingly difficult to see. So, how can we avoid falling into these traps? First, become a sceptic. Ask yourself: Why is this person posting this? What do they want from me? Are they offering real value, or are they just trying to sell something? Not every solution is one-size-fits-all. If something worked for one person, it doesn’t mean it will work for you. If problems were so easily fixed, we’d all be better by now. Instead of chasing trends, focus on what actually serves your needs. It might sound cliché, but happiness and well-being don’t come from products—they come from within.
Many of the insecurities marketed online—like “high cortisol face” or “legging legs”—didn’t exist a decade ago. These terms were created to sell products. Your friends likely aren’t worried about your “high cortisol levels,” and your mother probably doesn’t know what “legging legs” are. These terms are just manufactured to exploit insecurity. To counter this, step back and evaluate the trends you see online. What’s hot today may be gone tomorrow. Instead of buying into fleeting fads, focus on long-term self-care practices that genuinely address your real needs. True wellness doesn’t come in a bottle or a shopping cart— reclaim your agency. Question every “quick fix” you come across. Whether it’s a beauty product, supplement, or gadget, ask yourself: Will this truly improve my life, or am I just being sold another solution to a problem I didn’t know I had? By staying sceptical, informed, and focused on what genuinely aligns with your needs, you can navigate the constant barrage of ads online and make choices that truly serve your well-being. It’s time to unblur the line between a shopping cart and a real solution.
Author: Erin Tait [she/her]
qmunicatemagazine.co.uk 