Molly-Mae, influencer backlash and learning about Love Island
Plus the reality TV influencer pipeline and how her new brand has caused a stir
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I want to clarify that in writing this is, I wanted to give an example of how much power influencers have over consumers purchasing decisions. My intention isn't to blame all the woes of exploitative fast fashion onto a single person or start a hate campaign.
However I also think that in white feminism or faux feminism, we default to the "women supporting women" and "be kind" arguments. This is also an approach companies like Shein use to deflect criticism. But what about all the women who are being exploited for their labour? Why don't they get the same level of protection or kindness?
I'm trying to find a balance between critiquing and also recognising that all of us as individuals are affected by a wider culture. One that tells women that certain markers build social status, like emulating the wealthy, having lots of followers, being considered a boss babe and taking on brand partnerships.
Molly-Mae and her new brand, Maebe, has been the topic of conversation on my socials recently. But I must’ve been living under a rock because I had no clue who this person was. So I found out.
At first I thought she was popular because she was an influencer. White, thin, pretty, high-definition photos of travel, food, and fashion with the occasional brand partnership and minimal captions? It seems like exactly what would’ve made you popular online in the pre-reels era of influencer work. But Molly-Mae has 8.3 million followers on Instagram, so I knew there was more to this.
I tried searching on Reddit to find out why she is so famous. Big mistake. I was hit by an outpour of misogynistic takes about her appearance and general influencer snark.
I soon found out that the reason for her uptick in fame was because she starred on the fifth season of Love Island. She was already an existing influencer, but during and after her television appearance, her follower count dramatically increased by millions.
The reality TV to influencer pipeline is simple: you go on TV, amass celebrity capital, and then once you leave the show, even if the public hate-follows for the wrong reasons, you will get a fast fashion partnership. Brands like Pretty Little Thing (PLT) usually offer partnerships as soon as the contestant leaves the show, while their popularity is high.
Right now there is so much television being produced, including on streaming sites, and the influencer space is oversaturated. The connection between going on reality TV and increasing your follower count seems to be more tenuous. It could also be influencer fatigue.
But Molly-Mae left Love Island at the height of it’s popularity and became a British celebrity staple.
So what is Love Island?
I’ve obviously heard of the show but never watched it. My understanding is that it’s show for typically ‘hot’ people to find love. Think thin and sculpted, with reports of the show affecting viewers and contestants body image negatively. They all go to a villa in Mallorca, where, between lounging around and chatting, they are made to do tasks and play games in order to find a match.
For a split second, I thought about watching Love Island ahead of writing this but decided not to. I’ve seen a couple of clips though, like a group of women discussing what Brexit is and minimising it to how it might affect their holiday plans. Or Molly-Mae and Maura arguing about both liking Tommy, who ends up being Molly-Mae’s partner on the show.
As an alternative to watching loads of Love Island, I read the entire Wikipedia entry for season five. First of all, there were so many bloody contestants. I could not keep up with who was going into or leaving the villa. Those who were voted out or left single for too long were cruelly dumped. However, I did find out a couple of things. One, Molly-Mae and Tommy Fury were a public-voted couple, i.e., the public voted that they go on a 'date' together and were together till the end of the show. And two, the season had the most viewership.
This makes me think that the public was heavily invested in their relationship even after the show ended. Molly-Mae was quickly named a brand ambassador for PLT and took a supposedly £500k contract. In 2021, Molly-Mae was named as a creative director for the same brand.
Despite reality TV’s serious and heartbreaking downsides, of course I watch it. I’ve got to be in a certain mood if I’m watching it solo or I have to watch it with my partner, because without commentary alongside the drama, it’s not worth it. I like the ridiculously premised The Ultimatum: Marry or Move On. Especially the queer version.
And I was upset when several of the contestants took on fast fashion partnerships after it ended.
So we’ve established the Love Island connection, but there were so many contestants; why is Molly-Mae in particular so popular?
Her recent Instagram posts don’t give much away apart from trying to sell the typical influencer aspirational lifestyle.
I checked out her YouTube channel, including her most recent video. I didn’t have the time or mental energy to sit through a whole vlog that ran for almost 40 minutes, but I caught snippets. From celebrity sightings, travelling, and dressing up for Paris fashion week to more wholesome moments with her daughter Bambi and sister. Molly-Mae seems relatable, friendly and easy to form a parasocial relationship with. She talks about her yoghurt cup from Pret and how she doesn’t like sunflower seeds (me neither!) before mentioning she’s wearing a top from her new brand.
If a hallmark aspect of being an influencer is trying to convince your followers that they are your friend or could be your friend, then Molly-Mae is able to do that. Documenting her life is part of her job, but it plays into the fantasy that if you wear the same clothes, you might be able to emulate the same kind of life.
Influencers often mix up more luxury aspects of their life, from sports cars to houses to expensive trips with their ‘I’m just like you’ parts like going to ordinary chain cafes and buying fast fashion. It not only normalises fast fashion consumption, but it makes people feel like that life is more attainable. Which might partially explain why half of 16- to 25-year-old British kids want to become influencers. However, what people don’t realise is that not only are social media platforms more saturated than the height of when influencers amassed followers, but most brand partnerships these days, especially with starter influencers, are through gifted products, not money. It's difficult to make a living entering into it now.
I rarely criticise individuals when it comes to influencer work because supporting and promoting fast fashion is integrated into our culture. Women in the global North have been able to twist the narrative that their influencer success story is usually deduced to their own ‘hard work' regardless of the labour that went into making the clothes that they make their affiliate income off of.
Creative digital labour is hard work, but it’s not the same as the work that people put into making our clothes. And it feels like amongst influencers and their followers, there’s very little sense of responsibility because everyone wants to be a girl boss, and you can’t do that without ‘looking hot’ via fast fashion, and you especially can’t ask your online-parasocial bestie to do better. Especially one that’s as likeable as Molly-Mae.
Right, so where’s the backlash?
Molly-Mae’s influencer career has been centred on promoting fast fashion, where she earned an alleged income of £400k a month as creative director for PLT.
The assumption that everyone who buys fast fashion is poor is untrue. We don’t have a lot of data on the exact salaries of fast fashion consumers, but it has been reported that on average, women who buy Shein earn $65,300 a year and spend around $100 per month on fast fashion.
Shein is considered ultra fast fashion and produces at a much higher volume. But the boohoo group (PLT falls under them) has been criticised for their own labour violations, like underpaying workers.
Amplifying these brands allows influencers to pretend to be working class while being in a different income bracket. But that’s not what the backlash about Maebe is about.
The reported backlash is from users who felt that Molly-Mae’s brand, Maebe, was priced too steeply, especially considering she built her influencer career off shelling underpriced goods. Of course, a £35 tee is going to seem steep from the same influencer that promoted a brand that sells items for pennies.
Supposedly Maebe is also ethical with claims that factories are SEDEX and BSCI audited. However, for me, ethics is built on trust, and I don’t know if I trust the brand, or Molly-Mae enough to believe that all the factories involved follow ethical guidelines, but with a small collection, I think it’s absolutely possible. I hope it's true.
Molly-Mae’s followers YouTube comments speak to an entirely different relationship to her audience than the purported backlash—people seem to endlessly want to support her.
Onto the clothes. It's a small collection consisting of a few basics, some in sustainable materials and outerwear like oversized blazers made from primarily synthetics. Maebe’s range is OK. Size-wise, it goes up to a UK20, which is approximately a US16. Most new brands, without size inclusivity in mind, don’t go that far, which is the harsh reality of the industry. There are a couple of pieces like the cotton-lyocell blend shirt that I don’t hate. But I know ethical size-inclusive brands that offer similar or better designs that I would support first. Their size 20 is also considered a 4X, which I think is confusing.
Here’s the other thing: her collection, despite most of the knits and outerwear being majority polyester and acrylic blends, sold out on launch. If the consumers were her audience, and they were able to afford this range, why did they support fast fashion in the first place? Affordability cannot be the only reason since Molly-Mae’s lifestyle and brand are far from fast fashion’s version of ‘affordable’.
We know why. It's whole damn point of influencer work, to get people to buy.
We all know that influencers have a strong connection to consumer behaviour.
But wait, now that she has her own collection, doesn't that mean she's trying to change her behaviour?
Molly-Mae stepped down as creative director for PLT, but she still has a collection with PLT. Which means her fast fashion connection isn't a thing of the past.
What would it look like if influencers stopped amplifying fast fashion? Or if consumers rethink about who they follow and why? How can we stop being influenced to buy badly made exploitative shit? Are influencers accountable for the part they play in the ongoing damage that fast fashion creates on a global scale? Or is that too cruel of an ask for the likeable white women?
Are you aware of Molly-Mae? I only found about her a few days ago so if I'm missing some key British context, tell me!
Next week is a break week, so there’ll be a more casual newsletter coming out.
As always, in gratitude,
Sushmita