In today’s fast-paced world, and following the movement of the global pandemic, the more traditional practices of advertising and brand endorsements are branching out into something intangible, interweaved in a web of networks. Known to man as the world wide web, social media plays a huge role in this digital space. With Instagram being a photo and video sharing social networking site that launched in 2010, it has become—in my opinion—the ultimate online platform for the sharing of content that are both “real time” yet also carefully calculated. By monetizing one’s daily life for a living through digital activities, it is here that influencers perform a new type of labour in a neo-liberal economy (Abidin & Cover 2019). They engage with their followers in physical and digital spaces—with the latter being especially prominent during the pandemic—monetizing their following by integrating advertorials into their Instagram posts. Therefore, this critical essay focuses on the question: how could influencers author their Instagram brand deals in different ways?, which could lead to another question: what would be the audiences’ perceptions as a result of this?
Figure 1.1
Figure 1.2
To help visualise things a little better, the case study refers to Molita Lin, an Indonesian influencer, and Alisha Marie, an American influencer, seen in Figure 1.1 and Figure 1.2 respectively. Since they cover pretty similar contents on Instagram, this essay will be comparing and contrasting their posts to find out the significant differences, if any, in terms of how they author their Instagram brand deals in 2 differing cultural contexts.
Figure 2.1
Figure 2.2
‘Platform vernacular draws attention to how particular genres and stylistic conventions emerge within social networks and how – through the context and process of reading – registers of meaning and affect are produced’ (Gibbs et al. 2015, p. 258). Therefore, it is here that Instagram is more often than not associated with the idea of a “normalized aesthetic” when authoring brand deals on the platform. Since this idea is technically subjective to each individual, I personally think that it could fall under Manovich’s (2017, p. 67) idea of ‘designed photos’, being defined as ‘photos that have been arranged and edited to have a distinct stylized look’, as seen in Figure 2.1 and Figure 2.2 of Molita’s feed. Similarly, ‘filters … made millions of people … feel like they were crafting photographs that suggested professionalism’ (Leaver, Highfield & Abidin 2020, p. 12). ‘The vernacular of a platform is also shaped by the mediated practices and communicative habits of users’ (Gibbs et al. 2015, p. 257). It is here that certain media practices are being implemented in order to achieve a particular form of aesthetic since ‘events and activities become measured through their Instagrammable quality as part of broader tensions around user creativity’ (LaMarre 2017, p. 24).
Similarly, Manovich argues that designed photos utilize ‘only one filter (if used at all)’ and said filter ‘comes from a third party app such as VSCO, as opposed to built-in Instagram filters’, in order to ‘establish a visual style … and … apply the consistent edits, filters, and presets to all of them’ (Manovich 2017, p. 90). VSCO is ‘considered to be the standard among sophisticated Instagrammers having 30 million active users in the beginning of 2016’ (VSCO 2016, cited in Manovich 2017). Therefore, it could be said that apps reinforce a sense of practice. The process that goes behind posting content on Instagram could actually be quite tedious and intricate in this sense, since ‘producers aim to be aesthetically consistent in their images in order to be easily recognizable in their audiences’ feeds’ (Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021, p. 9). Similarly, ‘audiences enjoy filters because they make images more “visually appealing”’ (Djafarova & Rushworth 2017, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021).
Figure 3.1
Figure 3.2
Therefore, this links closely to the idea of ‘vernacular photography’ (Manovich 2017), being defined as a shared visual aesthetic that, via the network, has created an expanded vernacular style of photography that is particular to Instagram. Figure 3.1 shows one of Molita’s Instagram brand deals and Figure 3.2 shows another Indonesian influencer’s Instagram brand deal. Both these images represent one of the ‘frequently used combinations of subjects and visual strategies’ of designed photos; ‘“spreads” or “flat lays” (i.e., careful arrangements of a number of objects, photographed from above)’ (Manovich 2017, p. 105). ‘This photo activity can be said to exactly invert the advice that was given by famous Vogue art director Alexei Brodovitch to his photo students: “If you see an image you have ever seen before, do not click the shutter”’ (Manovich 2017, p. 53). Instead, both influencers ‘seem to follow the rule: “If your image looks like many images you have seen before, capture it”’ (Manovich 2017, p. 53).
Figure 4.1
Figure 4.2
Similarly, Manovich argues that designed photos are examples of what Tifentale (2016, cited in Manovich 2017) calls ‘competitive photography’, being defined as the ability for the audience to interact with the published work—“liking” and “commenting” on it—therefore creating competition between “photographers” and “authors” who aim to achieve similar aesthetic outcomes. Figure 4.1 features Molita and Figure 4.2 features another Indonesian influencer. So perhaps, it is here that Molita is being ‘influenced by what she … sees in other galleries on Instagram’ (Manovich 2017, p. 50), or vice versa. It is here that Abidin (2016, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021) states that influencers ‘internalize the gaze’ of their followers and fellow influencers, ‘as such they adhere to the aesthetic standards of the in-group’. Although all this may be something that just makes sense in Molita’s life, it might be quite a hassle for those who just want to casually and randomly post content without giving it much, if any, thought at all.
Figure 5
In contrast, it is here that Alisha’s Instagram brand deals are authored in a more “casual” manner, hence why they could fall under Manovich’s (2017) idea of ‘casual photos’. The reading by Manovich (2017, p. 50) states that out of the ‘152,000 Instagram photos uploaded by users in the center of London during one week in September 2015’, the findings show that the proportion of casual photos is at a whopping 80%, while that of designed photos only sits at 9%. Manovich (2017, p. 52) argues that the reason behind it is because ‘the content of casual photos is more important to their users than following the rules of good photography, so a “bad photo” with the important subject is accepted rather than rejected’. Therefore to me, this connotes that Westerners tend to author their Instagram photos in a more casual manner, as seen in Figure 5 of Alisha’s Instagram brand deals.
Figure 6.1
Figure 6.2
However, ‘a casual photographer may sometimes take time to create more professional looking photos’ (Manovich 2017, pp. 49-50). Figure 6.1 shows Alisha’s partnership with Living Proof, which to me looks more “professional” (i.e., the use of lighting to create shadows and the post’s colour cohesion) when compared to her other Instagram brand deals. ‘In this sense casual photography is anything but casual’ (Manovich 2017, p. 53). Whereas the lighting and colour-coordination—if any attempt was made at all in the first place—is not nearly as evident in Figure 6.2 of her partnership with Sony. Therefore, this essay acknowledges that authoring brand deals on Instagram depend not only on the endorsed product itself, but also the initial vision for the final look of the post.
Figure 7
Similarly, Molita’s most recent Instagram posts are actually more “casual” looking, shown in Figure 7, as opposed to her earlier posts (Figures 2.1 and 2.2 if want to refer back) where she seemed to consciously curate her gallery to only feature professional and designed photos (Manovich 2017). Therefore, it is here that both Molita and Alisha follow what Abidin (2017, cited in Simatzkin-Ohana & Frosh 2022) calls ‘calibrated amateurism’; making ‘a distinction between “anchor” content demonstrating influencers’ creative talent – which adheres to semiprofessional standards – and “filler” content revealing everyday routines or domestic life, which come across as raw, spontaneous, and more intimate’. ‘Regardless, amateurish images are still laborious; … users invest time to produce selfies that both conform to their aesthetic ideals and look spontaneous (Vainikka et al. 2017, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021). Manovich (2017, p. 49) also argues that ‘the casual, professional, and designed types are not intended to be exhaustive and cover every image on Instagram’, thus ‘many more Instagram users are not as consistent, and mix two or three types’ of photos in their feeds.
Figure 8.1
Figure 8.2
Moving on, another tactic being deployed by influencers to author their Instagram brand deals is through the use of different hashtags, in the hopes of creating an ‘affective public’ (Papacharissi 2016). ‘Due to the advantages of hashtags, brands have begun to strategically use them in advertising posts’ (Kim & Phua 2020, p. 96), but disclosures ‘should be prominent, well-placed and clear in meaning (FTC 2015, cited in Weismueller et al. 2020), and Instagram brand deals should be no exception to this. ‘While advertisements or sponsored content wasn’t necessarily sought after, it also didn’t excessively bother audiences, as long as “it’s obviously marked”’ (Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021, p. 8) Therefore, it is here that reading by Weismueller et al. (2020) suggests that influencers can label their post with the term ‘disclosure hashtag’ like #ad or #sponsoredby(brand), or the statement ‘paid partnership with (brand)’, to disclose their product endorsement (Stewart 2017, cited in Weismueller et al. 2020). Both these concepts are evident in Figure 8.1 and Figure 8.2 respectively; two examples of Alisha’s Instagram brand deals.
However, in the same reading by Weismueller et al. (2020, p. 167), disclosure hashtags seem to ‘have a negative influence on source attractiveness, indirectly reducing purchase intention’. For instance, the aforementioned examples do not clearly communicate the partnerships between Alisha and the endorsed brands, namely Clarins and Dr Dennis Gross. Therefore, this could be perceived as ‘having strong manipulative intent’ (van Reijmersdal et al. 2015, cited in Weismueller et al. 2020); promoting a product just because Alisha is paid to do so—and probably a great deal of it coming from Europe’s number one luxury skincare brand Clarins—and not because she actually likes and uses the product.
Figure 9.1
Figure 9.2
Similarly, it also relates to the so-called ‘brand-name hashtag’ in a reading by Kim & Phua (2020). Brand-name hashtags like #ClarinsSkincare seen in Figure 9.1, is used to ‘identify a brand to generate brand awareness’ (Stathopoulou et al. 2017, cited in Kim & Phua 2020). They are easy to memorize—especially a renowned brand like Clarins—and use, ‘so they can encourage consumers to share pictures of products with the hashtags’ (Greenwald 2019, cited in Kim & Phua 2020). This is shown in Figure 9.2, which makes up a total of 41.7K posts using the hashtag.
Figure 10
However, despite all this, brand-name hashtags also have their fair share of negative perceptions, such that it ‘offers no information other than the brand’s name’ (Kim & Phua 2020, p. 97). As someone who has never used any of Clarins’ products myself, I do not know what the Double Serum is and what it does, apart from making Alisha ‘feel SO confident not wearing makeup’, shown in Figure 10. The hashtags, and the entirety of the post as a whole, gave me no clue whatsoever about the product nor the brand. Although I do not know the effectiveness of such brand-name hashtags used by Alisha, but as one of her 3,5M followers myself, I personally feel that I do not find myself wanting to try out not just this product, but most of the things she endorses, purely because I need more information in order to be able to decide if the product will suit my needs.
Figure 11.1
Figure 11.2
In contrast, the same reading by Kim & Phua (2020) also mentions the term ‘empowerment hashtag’ like the one shown in Figure 11.1 taken from one of Molita’s Instagram brand deals. It is here that empowerment hashtags like #KulitSehatCantikAlami which roughly translates to #HealthySkinNaturalBeauty ‘signifies that brands are increasingly incorporating female-centric issues and advocacy into their marketing efforts’ (Poggi 2019, cited in Kim & Phua 2020). Moreover, the hashtag itself is being amplified when it is deemed as relevant by the target audience, as they personally feel rewarded despite its commercial purpose, thus generating positive consumer responses (Kim & Phua 2020). For instance, the hashtag #BakteriBaikUntukKulitMu roughly translating to #GoodBacteriaForYourSkin has been used in over 1000 posts, as seen in Figure 11.2. This suggests that the empowerment hashtag works towards creating an affective public (Papacharissi 2016), being defined as the networked digital storytelling that facilitate affective engagement for publics. The reading also states that ‘local tags may display denser social connectivity between posting users’ (Yardi & Boyd 2010a, cited in Papacharissi 2016). It is here that ‘influencer images are replicative forms, designed to encourage the influencer’s followers’ (Simatzkin-Ohana & Frosh 2022, p. 11) ‘to generate similar content on an amplified scale’ (Abidin 2016, cited in Simatzkin-Ohana & Frosh 2022).
Figure 12
Similarly, the same reading by Weismueller et al. (2020) also mentions the term ‘disclosure statement’, which looks somewhat like that shown in Figure 12 of another one of Molita’s Instagram brand deals. The disclosure statement clearly shows her paid partnership with COMMONLABS, such that aside from the handful of hashtags that sufficiently describe the products, she also wrote in her post’s caption the products’ main ingredient (Vitamin E) as well as its functions (calming and soothing the skin). Therefore, disclosure statements transparently communicate that a post is essentially an advertisement that provides enough information—perceiving it as an honesty of endorsement—and could be positively interpreted by consumers like myself in terms of my purchase behaviour and attitude towards Molita. This could also suggest that she is in demand by brands due to her ‘large, engaged and trusting community’ (Hair et al. 2010, cited in Weismueller et al. 2020). However, on the other hand, it could instead be referred to what Abidin (2016, p. 90) calls ‘visibility labour’, being defined as ‘the work individuals do when they self-posture and curate their self- presentations so as to be noticeable and positively prominent among … followers and fans’.
Figure 13
However, with all that in mind, there may still be some backlash being brought up as a result. First is the idea of Photoshop edits, as can be seen from Figure 13 taken from one of Molita’s Instastories. So she probably edits herself a certain way to be able to say that the product she’s endorsing has truly worked on her by “adding highlight and shadows on herself to define features”, or perhaps to make herself look better in an endorsed piece of clothing by “slimming her face and arm”. Likewise, Abidin (2016, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021) argues that ‘altering one’s appearance is accepted and even admired in the Southeast Asian Influencer communities’, since these perceptions are culturally dependent. This then raises concerns surrounding the idea of “trust”, such that audiences as consumers of media question an influencer’s “trustworthiness”—especially when it comes to beauty products—regarding either their sponsored or even non-sponsored posts.
As Manzerolle and Daubs (2021, cited in Simatzkin-Ohana & Frosh 2022) observe: ‘through their ability to engage in performative authenticity [influencers] offer a means to both build trust and then leverage that trust in service of commercial messages’. In a reading by Sanny et. al (2020), “trust” is defined as the belief of customers when certain brands or products can satisfy their desires and are able to meet their expectations. For instance, if I myself find that the COMMONLABS Vitamin E Calming Series does what it claims and indeed works nicely on my skin, it could lead to my commitment to Molita herself as an influencer, therefore establishing a trustworthy relationship between us possibly for future recommendations. It is here that Reade (2020, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021) ‘shows how the emotional and affective labour to be perceived relatable cultivates a “shared sense of belonging and connectedness” and is dependent on what the audience expects’. Moreover, consumers consider skincare brand advertisements that they have seen on social media as more trustworthy in terms of its function (Sanny et. al 2020), thus it ‘had a significant impact on brand image and brand trust’ (Sanny et. al 2020, p. 2139). I can definitely vouch for both those statements.
Similarly, I remember Molita mentioning in a lengthy Instastory—which unfortunately is no longer available—that she only promotes beauty products that work on her or suits her skin type. She transparently opened up by saying that she will give a 100% refund to brands whose products or messages do not align and meet with her requirements. She strengthens this claim further by saying that money is not the most important thing when it comes to issues like this. This could be viewed in two ways; being regarded as tokenistic, or instead being seen as an effort to build and gain trust. I would like to think that I believe the latter. It is here that this form of self-disclosure should be consistent with an influencer’s persona through the content they post, ‘otherwise audiences view it as staged or generic’ (McRae 2017; Dekavalla 2019, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch).
Figure 14
Figure 15
On the other hand, when influencers like Molita promote a certain brand, not because they are paid to do so, but because they actually want to try it out, reviewing and sharing these products with others, they are ‘trusted initially due to their authenticity and their capability of sharing genuine opinions’ (Fadhila 2018, p. 18). For instance, Figure 14 shows an Instastory featuring 4 cleansers containing various ingredients that serve different purposes. The absence of a brand-name and/or a disclosure hashtag lead me to assume that this is not a sponsored post. Figure 15 shows the continuation of the Instastory with a caption that roughly translates to ‘I can’t tell you if the product helps in solving my acne problems or not, as I currently don’t have any acne’, instead of saying ‘it worked in clearing out my acne’—which is not necessarily true. Similarly, an interviewee in the reading by Maares, Banjac and Hanusch (2021, p. 8) said that ‘she felt the content was inauthentic “when the story is like a check-list, like ‘I have to talk about this now, and done’”. Therefore, Indonesian users like myself tend to trust influencers like Molita compared to a brand’s marketing message, because we as consumers expect influencers to showcase a product beyond its positive characteristics (Fadhila 2018), especially in non-sponsored content. Similarly, another interviewee in the reading by Maares, Banjac and Hanusch (2021, p. 8) mentioned that ‘sponsored posts that provided reviews which pointed out negative aspects of a product or stated upfront that “I don’t get any money but I really like this brand, it’s a really good quality” were perceived as more authentic’. Moreover, influencers are also believed to have tried the product beforehand, making their review much more credible and less biased (Fadhila 2018). It is here that Molita mentioned that she tries beauty products especially for a minimum of several weeks to be able to see and judge its effects.
On the other hand, one thing I noticed is that although both Molita and Alisha create content on Instagram and YouTube, Alisha features way less Instagram brand deals, accounting for only 9 posts that I was able to find so far out of the 2000 something posts of hers, which probably speaks volumes. This might be because 82% of Americans tend to seek recommendations from friends and family when considering a purchase (Childers, Lemon & Hoy 2019). Similarly, McCann (2017, cited in Childers, Lemon & Hoy 2019) ‘found that 42% of Americans trust brands and marketers less today than they did 20 years ago’. ‘When looking specifically at U.S. Internet users, foundational media channels such as print, television … maintained much higher levels of trust when making a purchasing decision versus the online options of … online banner ads, and paid social media advertisements’ (eMarketer 2016, cited in Childers, Lemon & Hoy 2019). I found this really interesting and was not expecting that at all. Therefore, it is here that the contrasting patterns of Molita and Alisha’s Instagram brand deals could be said to reflect their respective cultural backgrounds.
In conclusion, with the question being proposed at the beginning of this essay in mind—how could influencers author their Instagram brand deals in different ways?—I think that it was relatively easy to answer, given the fact that the case study refers to 2 lifestyle influencers whom I personally follow; Molita and Alisha. This essay opened my eyes to the fact that being an influencer isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It is here that the examples mentioned thus far have been the object of a great deal of varying analyses. For instance, one of the practices being adopted by influencers to achieve differing aesthetics is through the various processes being implemented, ranging all the way from designed photos, to casual photos, as well as all the grey areas in between. Another tactic being deployed would be the various types of hashtags, exploring both their positive and negative aspects, as well as the reasons behind it. However on the other hand, the other question—what would be the audiences’ perceptions as a result of this?—is not that easy to answer. It is here that influencers as ‘providers of inspiration and advice’ (Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021, p. 8) have ‘to overcome some of the tension between having to brand themselves and their promotional work to sustain their business, and the need to portray themselves as genuine in order to connect with audiences’ (Long and Wilhoit 2018, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021), since their work ‘contributes to sociocultural capital in the form of audiences’ trust and engagement which can later be transformed into economic capital’ (McRae 2017, cited in Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021). As such, it is here that transparency needs to be strategically employed into brand deals, since ‘audiences rarely view social media posts as independent objects but rather evaluate it along with the actors’ behaviour, i.e. with the producer in mind’ (Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021, p. 9). Therefore, what matters at the end of the day is ‘dependent on the relationship that the audience imagines having with the producer’ (Maares, Banjac & Hanusch 2021, p. 9), regardless of how influencers author their Instagram brand deals.
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