Distorted mirrors: reality tv, influencers, and virtual avatars

Today, we’re diving into a world where reality has less impact than the latest retouched selfie of an influencer on vacation in Bali. Yes, we’re talking about reality TV, social media, and those influencers who turn everyday life into a spectacle. Get ready, because this episode of Cappuccino & Croissant is a journey into a universe where popularity is measured in likes, and even your brunch can become part of your storytelling.

To start, let’s rewind a bit. Reality TV wasn’t always synonymous with shouting and drama on a beach. Once upon a time, it was almost experimental—a window into “real life,” observing strangers interact with minimal intervention. But over the years, we shifted from simplicity to storylines where every tear, every reconciliation, every fight seems meticulously choreographed. In other words, reality TV has become a mirror of society… except it’s anything but accurate. We’ll break down how these shows influence our behavior, shape our perception of daily life, and why we all feel a little more “normal” watching people fight over a rose or an immunity necklace.

Next up, we’ll tackle an equally intriguing topic: the influence of social media on culture and style. Instagram, TikTok—you know, these platforms that turn everyone into a fashion expert, amateur photographer, and sometimes even a weekend philosopher. But at what cost? These networks dictate trends that are increasingly fleeting, where everything must be instantly perfect, only to be forgotten when the next trend pops up. And let’s not even start on what it does to our wallets. We’ll explore how this “snap-ready” culture of fashion and lifestyle shapes not only what we wear but also our relationship with consumption, often with some less-than-glamorous consequences.

Of course, we couldn’t talk about influence without focusing on the influencers themselves, these new icons of modern times. They’re content creators, brand ambassadors, lifestyle gurus… but are they as genuine as they claim to be? You see, in the influencer world, the line between authenticity and marketing is so blurred you might mistake it for a filter. We’ll dive into the strategies they use to seem “real,” the sponsored partnerships that fund their posts, and of course, the child influencers—these mini-stars of Generation Alpha. For these kids, childhood is sacrificed for one more subscriber. It raises tough questions about their privacy and well-being, and forces us to reflect on our role as spectators in this massive digital theater.

Finally, to top it all off, we’ll discuss the latest evolution in the influencer world: virtual influencers. Yes, we’re talking about characters created from scratch, without any real-life existence, yet able to promote products as if they were flesh and blood. The advantage? They never age, never tire, and will never have a live scandal. But with these digital avatars, we reach a new level of fiction and artifice in a world already saturated with retouched images and filtered personalities. What does this trend say about us and our relationship with reality?

So, grab your cappuccino and a fresh croissant, because this episode promises a real exploration of all that, in some way, eludes us. Reality TV, social media, and the world of influencers are shaping our society, whether we like it or not.

The history and impact of reality tv

Ah, reality TV! That brilliant invention that turned banality into spectacle, the ordinary into “content.” Today, we watch people eat, argue, fall in love at high speed, all under the pretense of “reality.” But let’s be honest: if reality TV is a mirror of our society, it’s more like a funhouse mirror—distorting, exaggerating, and amplifying everything it reflects.

Let’s start at the beginning: back in the ’90s, shows like The Real World on MTV paved the way. At that time, the concept was pretty simple: put strangers in a house and let them interact under the camera’s gaze. And oddly enough, reality TV then felt more like a “social experiment” where we could glimpse unfiltered personalities—well, almost. The audience was captivated because there was something raw, sincere, almost naïve about it. But that innocence didn’t last long.

Producers quickly realized that conflict, tears, and plot twists drove ratings through the roof. And there you have it—reality TV shifted from “discovering real life” to “making real life into a script.” Emotions became tools of manipulation, and every conflict, every romance, was carefully orchestrated to hook us. Shows like Survivor or The Bachelor set the standard, with contestants rotating through roles like “the nice one,” “the villain,” and the inevitable “diva.” Reality TV producers had discovered the magic formula to turn every episode into a cliffhanger, as if our lives depended on it.

Take a local favorite: Les Marseillais. This gang of bronzed and boisterous Southerners turned “problems” into a lifestyle. The concept? Send them to dreamy destinations to argue, make up, and start all over again the next week. The participants become larger-than-life characters, caricatures of themselves. Dialogues are tailored for punchlines, and fights are choreographed like a scene from Dallas. And we, the audience, sit back, fascinated by this 21st-century soap opera where the sense of the ridiculous seems to know no bounds.

But let’s not be hypocrites: we watch, we comment, and sometimes we even criticize—while never missing an episode. That’s the power of reality TV: it makes us complicit. We’re spectators of the drama, and in a way, it makes us feel better about our own lives. After all, who hasn’t felt a small relief realizing their day-to-day is far less chaotic than that of these adventurers in excess?

However, reality TV doesn’t just entertain; it also shapes our behaviors and values. We’ve gone from “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” to “let it all out—it’s for TV!” This normalization of conflict, drama, and betrayal also mirrors back to the audience. We learn that being explosive, or even downright mean, is not only acceptable but rewarded with fame. The line between values and spectacle has become so thin that we can barely tell what’s authentic anymore.

And this impact goes beyond mere behavior—it shapes aspirations. Reality TV has turned “stardom” into something democratic, accessible. Today, anyone can become famous through reality TV—and more than that, anyone can make a career out of it. It’s become a springboard into influence, product endorsements, and even, at times, pseudo-self-help books. We’re talking about a whole industry here, where the goal isn’t just to win a contest but to turn notoriety into a business.

But while reality TV is entertaining, it’s also toxic—for both those who create it and those who consume it. For participants, this overexposure can be a real trap. Many find themselves dealing with criticism, judgment, and sometimes even personal attacks once the cameras are off. Fame is a poisoned gift, and many reality TV contestants pay a high price for it.

So, the next time you tune into an episode of Survivor, The Bachelor, or Les Marseillais, remember: behind every outburst and every tear, there’s probably a satisfied producer and a well-crafted script. Reality TV is the spectacle of life… revised and edited.

Influence of social media on culture and fashion

Now let’s dive into another phenomenon that’s as fascinating as it is unsettling: the impact of social media on our culture and fashion choices. Let’s be honest—today, fashion isn’t dictated by haute couture houses but by Instagram filters and TikTok choreography. We’ve reached a point where the latest trend can emerge from a 15-year-old’s living room, armed with a ring light and a handful of hashtags. There’s a certain charm to it, sure, but also something slightly absurd.

Let’s start with the obvious: social media has become a massive showroom, a universal catwalk where anyone can play stylist, model, and even, why not, fashion guru. Once, setting a trend required creativity, flair, and maybe a bit of knowledge about fashion history. Today, all it takes is a good camera angle and a sponsored post to ignite the next fashion frenzy. The result? Fashion is consumed as quickly as a take-out coffee: flashed, shared, and then dropped in favor of the next trend.

We’re in the age of “fast fashion” and “fast trends.” One week it’s high-waisted pants; the next, it’s 2000s-inspired mini skirts. Major retailers scramble to keep up, churning out collections at an astonishing speed to match TikTok’s trend du jour. And let’s be real—quality has been swapped for quantity, and originality for a kind of photocopy effect.

But this frantic chase for new trends comes at a cost, and not just to our wallets. The environment is taking a serious hit. The textile industry is one of the most polluting, and the “haul” culture—you know, those videos where influencers proudly display massive bags of clothes—only encourages this unsustainable consumption. We’re in an age of instant gratification where wearing an outfit more than twice seems like a fashion faux pas. But behind every $3 T-shirt, there are resources, CO2 emissions, and often, labor conditions that are far from glamorous.

Another side effect? The standardization of taste. In a few short years, social media has managed to homogenize style to an unprecedented level. Today, you’ll see the same look—the same haircut, the same sneakers, the same handbag—from Paris to New York, Tokyo included. Social media has become this colossal machine for normalization, and personal style, which should be an expression of individuality, has turned into a mere replication of what we saw yesterday on Instagram. An endless loop of aesthetic clones, where each scroll resembles the last.

And yet, in theory, social media is also a space for freedom and diversity. With an audience of millions, you’d think cultural diversity would finally have its moment in the spotlight. But in practice, it’s not that simple. The problem is that diversity and authenticity often get absorbed by the machinery of trends and cultural appropriation. Take, for example, looks inspired by specific cultures, borrowed without understanding their meaning or context. What’s tradition or identity for some becomes an accessory, a “vibe” for others, with little regard for what it truly represents.

There’s also an undeniable impact on our perception of beauty and success. On Instagram, everything is carefully retouched, adjusted, and smoothed over. You only see the “glow up” and rarely the “break down.” The culture of “looking perfect” is omnipresent, imposing a beauty standard that’s often unattainable. Social media bombards us with these ideal lives, where everything is meticulously calibrated, from the coffee cup to the matching socks. Perfection has become the norm, and those who don’t reach this level are quickly judged, if not outright ignored. You start to wonder if, one day, we’ll see a post of someone in simple jeans and a T-shirt without a catchy hashtag or an enhancing filter.

And for those who think this visual uniformity is a harmless side effect, think again. This culture of appearance affects self-esteem, body perception, and our relationship with authenticity. After seeing flawless models who never seem to sweat, we start believing that every tiny imperfection is a personal failure. Studies already show an increase in body image issues and self-esteem struggles among younger generations who’ve known only the social media era.

So, the next time you’re scrolling on Instagram or TikTok, remember: everything you’re seeing isn’t a reflection of reality but rather a filtered, staged, and often monetized version of life. Social media is like a permanent fashion show where everyone’s trying to shine brighter than the next, even if it means sacrificing a bit of authenticity along the way.

The power of influencers – between authenticity and marketing

Now that we’ve unpacked how social media shapes our view of fashion and culture, let’s focus on those at the top of the pyramid: influencers. These modern-day royalty of lifestyle, turning every moment of their daily lives into content, as if they’ve cracked the secret recipe to transform a cup of tea into a historic event. Influencers are a fascinating phenomenon, sitting at the intersection of fame, marketing, and public diary—except that everything is meticulously calculated.

Let’s start with this “authenticity” everyone seems to crave. Authenticity is the influencer’s secret weapon. They cultivate it carefully, like pruning a bonsai, trimming anything that doesn’t fit the perfect image. Every post is calibrated to make you feel like you’re a close friend sharing in their daily life. They show you their little flaws, their “no-filter” Mondays… though curiously, even their “no-makeup look” often appears more polished than a high-fashion photo shoot. Good influencers know how to play on this ambiguity to give the illusion of genuine closeness, while, let’s be honest, everything is carefully scripted to attract engagement.

Then there are the famous brand collaborations. An influencer without partnerships is like a pizza without cheese—it just doesn’t make sense anymore. These days, every morning routine, every brunch is an opportunity to plug a product. And here’s where it gets amusing: influencers, with talent worthy of the best actors, manage to sell us everything from vacuum cleaners to skincare. They want us to believe these are products they use daily, almost out of genuine love, when, in reality, you’d think they’d sell a can opener if the contract was juicy enough. After all, who can resist a “miracle cream” or a “detox tea” promoted by their favorite influencer?

But while adult influencers play this marketing card under the guise of the perfect life, there’s an even more unsettling trend: child influencers. Here, we cross into delicate territory. Kids, sometimes even toddlers, are featured in sponsored content, smiling and perfectly styled, to sell toys, clothes, and whatever else you can imagine. We’re talking about kids who, before they can even read, are already Instagram and YouTube mini-celebrities, racking up likes and partnerships. And here, we can reasonably ask: where’s the line between play and exploitation?

Because, let’s be real, these kids didn’t sign up for this. They’re thrust into the spotlight, every moment of their private life captured, and for many, this early fame comes at a high price. Not only are they deprived of the freedom to just be kids, but they grow up in a world where their value is measured in followers and sponsorships. Their childhood becomes a business model, a marketing strategy. Of course, some might say it’s a unique opportunity for them, but if we think about it for a second—who’s really benefitting from this exposure? The child, or the parents and brands riding the wave of “sponsored innocence”?

And then there’s a new category changing the game altogether: virtual influencers. Yes, you heard that right. We’re talking about characters that don’t exist in real life—digital avatars who live on Instagram, post photos, and collaborate with brands as if they were real. They have stories, looks, virtual friends, but have never set foot in our world. Paradoxically, these digital entities, like Lil Miquela or Shudu, evoke very real emotions in their followers. People connect with these synthetic characters, reacting to their posts as if they were interacting with a tangible person. And yet, they’re nothing more than an algorithm, perfectly crafted to capture our attention.

On one hand, it’s ingenious for brands. These virtual avatars are the “perfect influencers”: no scandals, no bad days, no flaws. They’re available 24/7, and they’ll never age. But with this trend, we reach a critical point: what does this say about our view of authenticity when we’re following and admiring figures who aren’t even real? The virtual influencer is the ultimate version of this illusion of perfection. We’re no longer following a person with ups and downs but a fully controlled image that’s impossible to measure up to.

So, we might ask ourselves: does this culture of influence help us express ourselves, or does it trap us in a collective illusion? Between sponsored partnerships, star-kid influencers, and digital avatars, it’s getting harder to know what’s real and what’s not. The world of influencers is like a play where everyone’s playing a role, but no one really knows who’s writing the script.

In the end, we’re all a bit like actors in this digital masquerade, aren’t we?

Virtual influencers – the ultimate evolution?

After dissecting the mechanics of human influence, let’s turn our gaze to a new breed of influencers… who don’t really exist. Yes, we’re talking about virtual influencers. These digital avatars, as unreal as your vacation dreams to Tahiti, have become social media stars without ever setting foot on Earth. They go by names like Lil Miquela, Shudu, and Imma, creating content, collaborations, and campaigns for brands just like “real” influencers—only they’ve never had to deal with a breakout or a bad day.

So, what’s behind this phenomenon? For brands, the virtual influencer is as ingenious as it is surreal. Imagine a “creator” who never sleeps, never slips up, never changes their opinion, and never ages. Basically, a like-generating machine without the hassle of being human. No drama, no scandals, and absolute adherence to the script. It’s a dream of control for brands, allowing them to pilot every aspect of their ambassador’s image without the risk of an ill-timed post or unpopular opinion. Paradoxically, these fictional influencers have even managed to become… endearing.

Take Lil Miquela, for example. She’s one of the first major figures of this digital avatar generation. With her half-human, half-synthetic look, she’s captivated millions of followers and signed contracts with top brands. Her posts show “authentic” glimpses of life—she talks about her opinions, her feelings, as if she were a real person. What’s fascinating (and slightly unsettling) is that she’s perceived as a personality in her own right, with followers reacting to her posts as if she existed. And here’s where it gets a bit eerie: people interact with a creation as if it were human, leaving comments, empathizing… but there’s no one behind the screen.

So, why does it work? Why are we so willing to invest in something fictitious? That’s the magic of the virtual influencer: they’re engineered to elicit empathy, to play on our emotions, without ever making a mistake. The creators of these avatars use algorithms to analyze what makes us react, calibrating every post, every smile, every scene to capture our attention. What we get is a polished version of reality, a product that looks like a person but lacks the imperfections, contradictions, and human flaws.

And what does all this do to our perception of reality? Well, we’re already feeling the effects. This flawless influencer model sets a standard some might be tempted to measure themselves against. As if the perfection imposed by filters and Photoshop wasn’t burden enough, now we’re adding characters impossible to rival. These virtual influencers create an alternate reality where authenticity is meticulously crafted, where every expression is pre-calculated, and where everything is optimized for likes and shares. We drift further from realness, stepping into a universe of perfection that even the most diligent humans can’t match.

The irony? The public seems to want more. There’s a fascination with these fictional characters who embody perfection and feel less threatening, less complicated than their human counterparts. Some might say this phenomenon reflects our thirst for escapism, our desire for a world without complications. But there’s also a slightly darker side: if we’re as willing to give our attention and affection to soulless entities as we are to real people, what becomes of the line between reality and fiction?

For younger generations growing up with virtual influencers, the question is even more pressing. What are we teaching them about reality, beauty, and success? That everything can be manufactured, that authenticity is optional, and that it’s okay to ignore the real in favor of the perfect? While past generations compared themselves to magazine models, today’s youth are influenced by characters who have never existed, programmed to be adored without offering anything truly human.

In the end, the question remains: are virtual influencers the future of marketing or a worrying sign of our increasingly distant relationship with reality? In a few years, will we interact only with perfect avatars, avoiding the imperfections of real life altogether? Perhaps virtual influencers are the next phase in online fiction—a fiction that no longer presents itself as such but instead reshapes our perception of what’s authentic.

So before you hit like on that next virtual influencer post, consider what this says about our times, and whether this illusion of perfection really offers us anything valuable. After all, nothing can replace the real thing, no matter how tempting a perfectly pixelated smile might be.

Conclusion

And there we have it—we’ve wandered together through this universe where reality and fiction blend so freely they sometimes become indistinguishable. From reality TV, which has made drama a national pastime, to social media that turns fashion into aesthetic fast food, and influencers who juggle between feigned authenticity and relentless marketing, it’s safe to say we’re living in a perpetual spectacle. It’s as if each of us is playing a role in an endless soap opera, whether we’re the spectators or, inevitably, the actors ourselves.

We’ve seen how reality TV, which supposedly aimed to show us “real life,” has ultimately led to a scripted version of what we want to see. From orchestrated conflicts to neatly staged reconciliations, it’s become a machine for distraction—and, sometimes, a comforting reminder that our own lives aren’t quite so chaotic. Then there’s social media, setting trends that create style clones across the globe. Individuality is sold to us, but it comes with a highly specific mold to follow, right down to the “perfectly imperfect” look.

Then we touched on the influencers themselves, these new consumption gurus and their art of sponsored partnerships. They’ve transformed a simple cup of tea into a marketing seduction game. They sell us the illusion of a perfect life, but it’s in the margins, behind the lens, where the cracks hide—the ones we’ll never see. And, of course, we can’t ignore child influencers, dressed up and staged to make us dream, without much thought to what it all means for their development.

Finally, there’s this new generation of influencers who don’t even exist. Digital avatars that fully blur the line between real and make-believe, crafted to embody perfection. They give us a flawless image, an illusion of life where everything is controlled. And with them, we reach something dizzying—a fiction sold as reality, adored even as we know it’s never existed.

So perhaps the real question is this: what does all of this say about us? Are we trying to escape our everyday lives, entranced by this glamorized version of existence, even if it means forgetting that authenticity comes with a price—the price of imperfection? Or are we simply becoming spectators of a world we shape, like, and comment on without ever asking ourselves why?

Whatever the case, this culture of influence, reality TV, and social media is more than just entertainment; it’s a mirror. Sometimes flattering, often distorting, but a mirror that reflects something of ourselves, our desires, and our contradictions. So before you like that next post, maybe the real question is: how much does this mirror influence us, and how far are we willing to let it redefine our reality?

As always, you can share your thoughts, your favorites, and even your disillusionments on social media, in the comments. And who knows, maybe someday we’ll end up redefining what it means to be “real” in a world of illusions. Until next time—and don’t forget, sometimes there’s only a filter between the fake and the real!