The Rise of Fashion Influencers and the Fall of the Industry Worker
What does inclusion look like for both influencers and industry workers?
The ingenuity of fashion doesn’t just come from creativity but the dedication to the craft. Style has never been about likability or the willingness to impress the masses but disrupt- loudly, unexpectedly, and unapologetically. The nuances of this understanding are often lost in the simplicity of exclusivity. Honestly, it’s protection, better known as ‘gatekeeping,’ holding things and ideologies close for fear of disrespect or misinterpretation. This is the understanding I have of fashion—the hermit who evaded the peering opinions of the public to radiate the voices of what should be. To me, this art form has been lost. Of course, we live in an age where isolation is hard to maintain. The urge to exploit our lives for dollars (maybe thousands, maybe millions) is accessible at a whim. Exploit could be too harsh, but there could be no other way to comprehend the separation. This is the influencer's rise and the industry worker's fall.
This shift has placed me in limbo as someone who works in fashion and still finds my footing. I grew up on the concept of hard work, internships, and working under the guise of a mentor- someone who can show you the ropes. My first few weeks in New York City were spent researching and emailing stylists. This meant scrolling through hundreds of websites, looking for reputable email addresses, and perfectly crafting a letter of asking (begging) for any opportunity. Offering services I wasn’t even sure of, but having the faith that I could adapt and quickly fall in line as a stellar intern. The ground up, my grandfather would state. Honestly, I believed in the work ethic. From cold emailing to interning, this spoke to my spirit of motivation. This is how the greats operate, right?
However, I’m not denigrating the work ethic of using social media and how far that can take others. Learning how to garner a fanbase takes thought, persistence, and a niche you must believe in—looking at the rise of Pierrah, a fashion influencer whose virality came after celebrating Black brands. She used her obsession and transformed it into a monetizing gig. So much so that she could style a Nike ad; this is where I tend to run into issues. I've built an extensive portfolio alongside my career as a stylist and writer, the number of shoots and running around, pickups, rejections, and money poured into test shoots, editorials, and runway. My work has a story and history that shows elevation, my thematic motifs, and who I am as an artist. This isn’t just about me but the community of other stylists who I’ve watched push themselves to bring a vision to life, time and time again. So where does that leave us?
The work accumulated from having projects and working with other creatives is our namesake. We all know that. There is only movement if you show what you can do, or so I thought. Shifting into this new age of the creative working sphere has doubled the pressure of garnering a following. With a herd, there is credibility that once was reserved for the portfolio. Some sustainable virality now opens a world that was already difficult to enter without the right tools and resources. This past New York Fashion Week was in talks of the ridiculous nature that has spun many influencers into “models” and harbored converted seats at respected fashion houses. While fashion shows have historically allowed specific celebrities to participate, inclusion was a vetted process. Some journalists have claimed that we have been working toward inclusion and shouldn’t disparage influencers being allowed to take part, but that isn’t real inclusion.
Inclusion isn’t just about allowing anyone to participate in what we consider unique and delicate – ours. Inclusion allows those with the same talents, passions, and dedication to be held back by societal standards. Consider who is showing up on these shows and who’s being asked to work with significant editorials and style artists. Do they really look different? Are they pushing bounds or easily digestible or quirky white women? Another implosion on the scene was the subway girl, raved by The Cut for her “interesting” choices of layering-boarding homeless chic with a touch of bender core. Her opinions on what was hot and not when she wouldn’t even make the concerted effort to venture out from the Lower East Side -regurgitating trends and hype beasts to the point of mush. Or the tube girl, doing whatever made her famous, front row at Valentino. The fact is, where does that leave those who’ve always been inspired? Those who want a legacy of style and fashion to be left behind and remembered, who don’t want to replicate a personality just for the internet’s approval to work a show?
Obviously, some still-working stylists don’t have to play double Dutch with content for a real gig, but the paradigm is changing. We can’t pretend it isn’t.
