I
n the beginning, there was nothing. And influencers said, “Let there be light.” Ring lights, that is. For the past five years, I’ve reported on social media’s watershed moments and interviewed countless content creators at different stages of their careers. What I’ve never done, though, is try to become an influencer myself. The rules are simple: I get rid of my verified accounts and just start posting, throwing things at the great big wall of the internet and seeing what sticks. What could go wrong?
Day 1: Zero followers
I kick things off with a simple task: posting a trendy meme format that uses a Taylor Swift lyric. It makes fun of the dressing rooms of Aritzia and the anxiety of realizing you’re not going to fit into Reformation’s largest size. Ten minutes after pressing post, I have 400 views, which isn’t big but feels right. More views and followers must await me in the morning.
Day 2: Zero followers
Wrong. My follower count is zero and the views I took for granted yesterday have trickled to a halt. My influencer training box arrives — a cheap mic and a ring light that promises to “surpass” all others — which I’m hopeful will bridge the gap between my ambition and lack of natural lighting sources. In preparation for what is bound to be my future life of parties and expensive comped suites, I film a video capturing my makeup routine. But something is off. The views go from two to 14 and stagnate. This can’t be the same internet Alix Earle is posting on?
Day 3: Zero followers
Still. Zero. Followers. I need help. After promising my friends dinner, they arrive at my apartment to a hastily rearranged living room and a glaring ring light. I spend 20 minutes setting up, leaving the promised food unprepared — my first mistake. We open the wine and film for three hours, while I try on dresses for my brother’s upcoming wedding and the room shouts out rankings. None of the outfits fit. We go through four bottles. When I go to edit the footage, I realize our laughter blew out the microphones and my dog’s curious sniffs at my camera smudged the lens. None of it is usable.
Day 7: One follower
One follower! High off my success, I post four more TikToks of outfits, fashion advice, and incoherent or shoddily compiled memes — completely distracted by the glimmering “1” on my screen. They get 20 views altogether. This lack of success, plus the physical time I now spend looking at myself, is changing something in me. I find myself filming, refilming, changing lighting and angles. Is this what I always look like? Posting every day is a slog. I spend hours trying to bank content, but suddenly clothes don’t make sense. I’ve also never thought so closely about how I’m seen through the eyes of others. Now it’s all I can think about.
Day 10: Five followers
I stumble into what I can only describe as the bad place. My For You page here on my new account is desolate, barren except for creators making content about creating. At least I’m not the only one trying — and I’m certainly not the only one failing. Videos pop up with grabs like “The best way to go viral in 1-month” or “Here’s why you only have 5 followers!” And challenges abound, reminiscent of the follow trains of Tumblr of old. There are teens and adults and creatives and professionals and everyone in between confessing a shared and deep desire: Create a TikTok account in secret, get popular, and reemerge with a following large enough to change your life.
Day 12: Nine followers
It’s time to call in some help. Again. CAA agent Chris Wittine is too kind to tell me my TikTok is failing because I suck. But he does recommend I reply to comments more, follow more trends, and just simply post more. “It’s not up to you to decide if you’re bad at creating,” he says. “It’s on the audience.” With that in mind, I turn to my group chat for some more hard-hitting advice. “Not enough content and the thumb[nails] could use better lightning,” one friend says. Another thinks I could “sprinkle in” more cultural takes. So what I’m getting is more, more, more. The name of the game for the next few days has to be excess. As long as I post something, anything, I’ll be fine.
Day 13: Nine followers
Spent so long focused on the work I’m actually getting paid for that my camera roll is empty. I’ll post tomorrow.
Day 14: Nine followers
It’s Saturday. Didn’t get dressed. Posting the next day can’t hurt.
Day 15: 10 followers
Might as well make the weekend a wash. I brought out my phone at brunch to film my food and immediately got a look from my waitress that silenced me for at least 20 minutes. Maybe I’ll frame this as a social media fast.
Day 16: Nine followers
Fuck.
Day 25: 10 followers
I make a terrible, no good, very bad mistake today: I start over. I purge my TikTok of every video with fewer than 50 views, which I think will be a clean slate, and instead immediately regret it. I feel desperate. I dredge up half-assed videos about outfits and accessories, swing my phone wildly at things I think I can turn around into a post, and ask for comments, follows, attention — literally anything. After the fifth time I check my phone for TikTok notifications during a friend’s dinner, my girlfriend takes it away.
Day 33: 12 Followers
As a writer, I’m used to the pitch, the edit, the process of transforming an idea into a byline. Here, everything is newsworthy. My magnum opus: a TikTok that combines the trending language of brat summer with a vegetable dress and my love for a viral purse that has an AI pattern and is shaped like a horse. It gets 4,000 views in 20 minutes. By God, I think I’ve got it!
Day ?: 19 followers
I’ve lost track of how long this experiment has lasted and when it’s supposed to end. If this was an effort to be viral, I’ve failed. But if the neurosis, the anxiety, and the knowledge that one post could be between myself and leaving obscurity behind is a mindset, it’s one that I successfully put on, outfit by outfit. I’m so excited to leave my ill-fated influencing attempt behind. But when I go on TikTok to say farewell, I notice one of my posts has gotten some traction. The views are past 4,000 and still rising. I’ve also jumped to 19 followers and the notifications, comments included, keep flooding in.
Well … maybe one more post couldn’t hurt.