In My Post-Influencer Era

A couple of months ago, I diligently archived thousands of Instagram posts. Some of you may scream, others are nodding in agreement and solidarity. I’ve been chronically online since my teenage years and a ‘content creator’ and blogger since 2009 – I’m now 33 and it’s only natural to evolve, move onto the next chapter, elevate your identity.

In this digital age, social media feels like it’s become part and parcel of everyday life. Whether it’s the way memes have seemingly irrevocably changed how we communicate, or the way music leans towards creating magnetic 7-second soundbites that (hopefully) become viral TikTok sounds, or dressing in a way that perfectly taps into one or more trending items so Instagram picks it up in the algorithm, all of us are grappling with how we present ourselves online.

When I hit ‘Publish’ on my first post on Daisybutter via Blogspot in 2009, I had no idea where it might take me, no inkling that I’d still be here 14 years later. I watched in excitement as my views ascended to tens of thousands a day, scheduled in meetings, photoshoots and exclusive events with my favourite brands, attended award shows as a nominee then a finalist(!), and made a full-time salary from a home-grown website. But, of course, the online world has changed immeasurably since that first day. As I focused on my career outside of blogging, my views began to slow down and the style of content creation moved away from what I ‘do’. I miss that era of blogging, but equally there is no way to return to that nostalgic time. Those versions of us no longer exist and there’s both happiness and sadness in this realisation. Do I want to return to that time because it was so naive and full of freedom and I hadn’t yet stepped into the real world?

During my summer break from blogging, I deeply examined my digital identity. What do I do with my Instagram account whose following inflated beyond expectation and then, just as quickly, deflated by nearly 50%? Do I continue to invite thousands of people into my little life when it feels like ‘I don’t do that anymore’? I’d feel downtrodden, rejected, invisible, when my peers flourished in their social media careers, yet how could I compare myself when I was no longer on that path? I’ve evolved from who I used to be, but I was expected to remain a digital caricature of myself – performing daily outfits, fun little Reels, sharing my opinions, capturing my daily adventures to jaunty music.

When I sat down on my sofa that day to carefully archive posts and re-curate my digital identity, I learned plenty about myself. I still love all of those things, but it’s the online sharing part of it all that doesn’t fit in the puzzle of my little life as it stands. I realised that all I wanted – all that so many of us want – was to be seen and to have the lovely parts of my life, my personality, the fabric of my being, appreciated while we exist on this cosy little planet. It was hard to watch as what I’d succeeded in slowly evolved and evaporated.

A few years ago, I delved into the equally cosy community of bookstagram, where I instantly felt revitalised by just sharing the bookish side of me – no pressure to do what I’d been doing for years. It felt like shedding old skin: satisfying, renewing, protective. Now I could continue to share parts of myself and be seen without feeling like a caricature. It’s exciting to work with publishers – that satiates the brand job part of blogging – but really lovely to be able to share a part of me that both is and isn’t personal. (I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s painful when someone hates my favourite book, but it doesn’t hurt as much as when somebody thinks I’m too enthusiastic or too much of a Swiftie or not being sustainable enough or complaining too much about my second-generation immigrant experience 😉)

Leaving my influencer era has been a painful growing process. I continue to feel nostalgic for the golden era of blogging (in my eyes) and I often miss creating content for my favourite brands. I’m still grappling with how I show up online and what my purpose is, but Substack has really helped me grow naturally and step into a brand new chapter of honest writing and authentically sharing personal essays and stories.

Let’s face it: I’m a writer first and foremost, I’ll always love oversharing in mundane and magical ways.