Can Influencer Brands Survive Influencers?

Style Points is a column about how fashion intersects with the wider world.

In 1912, the first influencer cancellation took place. (Well, unless you count Marie Antoinette’s.) Lady Duff-Gordon, a socialite and designer of the line Lucile, survived the sinking of the Titanic—but was rumored to have bribed the lifeboat’s crew not to save as many people so she could make it to safety. When she reached dry land, a trial ensued, with many of her Lucile-wearing stans in the audience.

Lucy Duff-Gordon.

By those standards, today’s influencer scandals—like this winter’s tempest around Swedish influencer and Djerf Avenue designer Matila Djerf’s alleged mistreatment of employees—pale in comparison. But that story is proof that influencers have always been around in some form, and that their role as social lightning rods is nothing new. And with so many influencers now not just promoting, but designing, brands, it’s a markedly strange time for the industry. While in the past, a celebrity or model’s behavior could sink an endorsement deal, what happens when the spokesperson themselves also owns the means of production, so to speak?

Emma Chamberlain takes selfies with fans at the Venice Film Festival.

“Any time you put a name on a label, whether it is an influencer brand or a designer’s name, you risk that individual running into reputational issues and harming the brand in some way,” says Susan Scafidi, the academic director of Fordham’s Fashion Law Institute. While influencers are using their vast followings to leverage their own brands, that following is “built on shifting sand. There is always a danger that something will happen and the whole sandcastle will crumble.”

To avoid that “key person risk,” as it’s known in the business, there are a few ways to future-proof an influencer-led brand. Some investors will ask for a “morals clause.” Says Scafidi, “It sounds very 19th-century, but it is about reputation.” She always recommends to emerging designers that they create some sort of separation between the personal and the professional. For example, not making the name on the label their own, and maintaining separate social media accounts.

Influencer Alix Earle attends Paris Fashion Week.

At the same time, “we want someone to follow who isn’t just a generic company without a face. So we’re basically dealing with a double-edged sword,” she says. “On the one hand, a great influencer with a personal touch and appeal to followers is brilliant marketing. On the other hand, humans are fallible.”

Which explains why several brands founded by influential people, like Toteme (co-founded by Elin Kling) and Anine Bing, don’t lead with the image of their founder front and center. (An approach famously pioneered by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen at The Row.) Lia Haberman, author of the In Case You Missed It newsletter and creator economy expert, points to Emma Chamberlain and her coffee company as a sort of Gallant to some fellow influencers’ Goofus: “She’s trying to establish a good product versus [it] simply being an extension of who she is and who her fandom is. She has encouraged fans to approach and consume Chamberlain Coffee, but at the same time, she has not pinned all its success on herself. She doesn’t post constantly whenever there's a new product launch; it’s a pared-down presence. And I think that’s smart.”

Hailey Bieber arrives at the launch of her beauty brand Rhode.

Muddying the waters is the fact that the definition of “influencer” has morphed so much in recent years. Designers like Olympia Gayot and Joseph Altuzarra now command huge social media audiences, as do some editors and stylists who were previously relegated to more behind-the-scenes roles. While they’re increasingly expected to “influence” as well as design, edit, or style, with all those new eyes on them, they may face the same pitfalls as more traditional influencers.

Then there’s the matter of the economy. (You knew we were going to get there at some point, right?) In times of financial turbulence, says Scafidi, “people start to blame fashion. And because fashion is close to the body and therefore closely affiliated with the person [wearing it], fashion gets blamed more than, say, real estate. We save our rancor for fashion, not for someone who has a big house, because we don’t see the house, but we see the person on Instagram living an amazing life, apparently having a limitless supply of outfits. And because of that, resentment bubbles up.”

(On the other hand, cancellations rarely stick these days. As Haberman says, “If you hang in there long enough, everyone can make a comeback.”)

Influencer Paige DeSorbo attends the Michael Kors runway show.

Haberman predicts that micro- and nanoinfluencers, who have the most average-Jane appeal, will rule the next few years, while mega-influencers will ride out any small scandals and be fine. But, she says, “I do think the middle class of influencer is going to struggle. Through no fault of their own, just because of that perception that they’re neither relatable nor aspirational.” It’s a tough balance to master—just ask Lady Duff-Gordon.