‘It’s just so tacky now’: Nadia Fairfax to quit influencer career
In a world where “stories” have a 24-hour life span, five years is an awfully long time in the fickle arena of the “Instafamous”. Just ask social media high-fashion darling Nadia Fairfax.
Back in 2018, the Sydney influencer was one of a gaggle of emerging social media stars I profiled in a lengthy piece for Good Weekend, delving into the then-emerging new social media order, and how followers and likes had replaced surnames, schools and suburbs, once the traditional hallmarks of social pedigree.
Nadia Fairfax at the Silver Party in 2019.Credit: Wes Nel
And with this new digital social pedigree came an opportunity to monetise popularity on an unprecedented scale for thousands of people just like Fairfax.
Back then, Fairfax was the reigning queen of the luxury fashion set, a star guest feted by big brands at glamorous soirees, from Moet to Chanel, showered in expensive baubles and significant sums of money to post glamorous and highly art-directed selfies promoting their wares. It looked like a charmed life, which was exactly the intention.
At the time she half-jokingly told me: “I still struggle when people ask me what it is that I actually do ... I guess I’m a lot of fun to have around. People don’t see the unglamorous side of this. Of me sitting up at my computer in my pyjamas jet-lagged at 1am, trying to write a blog post ... but that’s not what people want to see.”
But every party comes to an end.
Last week, the now-34-year-old told me she was contemplating a career change, out of social media. As for all those parties, she’s had enough.
“I don’t go to as many these days ... I guess I’ve changed too,” she admitted, though with news she is also expecting her first baby with husband Michael Wayne, selfies are probably not high on her agenda right now.
In 2018 social media influencer was still a curious concept, an ambiguous career path at best, which for cynics like me seemed little more than a commercialised celebration of vapid narcissism.
But marketers, from Louis Vuitton to Louis Roederer, lapped it up. For them, it was a “safe” marketing channel to promote their exclusive brands and products, particularly with a younger demographic, by piggybacking on an elite group of individuals’ online popularity without it appearing like an ad.
Nadia Fairfax in the Birdcage for the Melbourne Cup last year.Credit: Eddie Jim
Well, that’s how it started.
Since then, we have seen a proliferation of “influencers”, learnt of fake followers being bought and sold, of influencers buying “likes” and social media artifice bearing little resemblance to one’s real life.
Today we see the emergence of “de-influencers”, a term coined to describe influencers who actively disparage products and brands on social media, which frankly just sounds like another form of influencing.
As for the brands using influencers, it’s no longer the domain of high-end fashion, with suburban mothers and personal trainers to underwear models and trashy reality TV stars flogging everything from washing detergent to life insurance.
Happier days: Fledgling influencer Cassidy McGill was a red carpet regular in Sydney until she posted a controversial picture on Instagram.
Then there are the influencers who go off-script. In January Love Island Australia star Cassidy McGill lost a lucrative deal with British sex toy retailer Love Honey after she “accidentally” uploaded a photo on Instagram of herself holding a plate with two lines of white powder on it.
And only last week I wrote about some of Australia’s most celebrated influencers, including socialite Pip Edwards and bikini model Tash Oakley, being caught up in an embarrassing controversy engulfing one of their sponsors, the luxury fashion retailer Cosette. The women had enthusiastically posted promos for Cosette on their social media feeds.
Deafening silence: Pip Edwards has not commented on her relationship with luxury retailer Cosette following the “superfake” allegations.Credit: Instagram
Last week Cosette denied accusations it was selling “superfake” knockoffs of expensive designer handbags after disgruntled customers went public.
The influencers’ silence on the media storm which has engulfed Cosette for a fortnight now has been deafening.
It is estimated companies’ global marketing expenditure on influencers will reach $US21.1 billion ($32 billion) this year, according to the Influencer Marketing Benchmark Report 2023 from Influencer Marketing Hub.
There is no breakdown on exactly how much that spend is in Australia, but anecdotal evidence suggests it is continuing to grow at an exponential rate, with roughly 10 per cent of advertising budgets being directed to influencers, which, if applied across the board, would make it an industry worth several hundred million dollars a year.
The top 10 influencers in Australia, according to one study, command a collective audience of more than 140 million followers – more than five times the country’s population.
The Australian Influencer Marketing Council was launched in 2019. Its mission is to “build marketer trust and confidence through best practice, transparency and industry education”.
Chief executive Josanne Ryan said the industry had evolved dramatically in a short period of time, admitting it was the “wild west”.
Part of influencers’ “legitimisation” has been the creation of a code of practice in an effort to self-regulate the industry aimed at providing greater transparency.
In April, the Australian Securities and Investments Commission released its sixth interim report of the Digital Platform Services Inquiry.
It identified a range of competition and consumer issues, including inadequate disclosures by influencers following a sweep of social media posts to identify misleading testimonials and endorsements by influencers, examining content from more than 100 influencers after receiving more than 150 tip-offs from consumers about potentially misleading posts.
The ACCC identified 81 per cent of influencer posts as potentially misleading endorsements and testimonials, which under Australian Consumer Law can face penalties of up to $2.5 million.
But for the likes of Fairfax, the appeal of influencing has waned for far more pedestrian reasons.
“A lot of it is just so tacky now,” she lamented. “There’s not much creativity any more.”
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