The Authenticity Craze. It’s Mostly B.S.

by

Once upon a time, there was an era, not too long ago, where enigma was a celebrity’s most valuable asset. Being elusive, enigmatic, and hard to decipher made one all the more adored. The less you revealed, the more legendary you stood. Just by looking the part, you could captivate hearts.

Currently, showing yourself openly requires vulnerability. It’s not just about performing; it’s about expressing emotions, clarifying thoughts, and sometimes revealing secrets. All on command, in high definition. Ideally, with a filter that keeps the natural texture of your skin visible.

Modern fame has become a raw and emotional exposure. It’s not just about presenting a project; it’s about sharing your struggles. Your past traumas, personal therapy experiences, dietary restrictions like gluten intolerance, experimental sobriety phases in Tulum – all these aspects are now part of the public discourse. The red carpet is transformed into a catwalk for deliberate self-disclosure. The more authentic and vulnerable you seem, the longer you manage to stay in the spotlight.

To put it plainly: What we’re really seeking isn’t just honesty. It’s an openness that carries a sense of rawness, yet aligns with our desired style. Imagine tears flowing, but instead on a bouclé couch, preferably under the soft glow of a candlelit room as a new week begins.

At the start of my professional journey, an influential figure shared a thought that has always stayed with me: “Just be authentic. If you can manage to pull off that, then you’re set.” This remark, while intended as humor, held a striking truth. Like many witty remarks, it was surprisingly spot-on.

Authenticity has always been a performance. We just used to be more honest about it.

In the glamorous era of Hollywood, studios crafted stars just as department stores made mannequins – perfect, mute, empty. Greta Garbo didn’t share beauty routines on social media. Rock Hudson didn’t introduce new relationships gently. Keeping private matters confidential was not a luxury, it was a rule of thumb.

Vulnerability was a liability. You buried it, denied it, drank it down.

Then, slowly, things began to change.

In the 70’s, Cher harnessed authenticity as a powerful asset, openly sharing her divorce struggles while adorned in feathered costumes. By the 90’s, Oprah amassed an empire through shared emotional release—crying alongside guests and converting daytime television into the world’s most successful talk therapy platform.

Reality TV paved the way for a massive breakthrough, popularizing shows like “The Osbournes”, “Survivor”, and “The Kardashians”. What was once an entry point turned into a kingdom. Sharing personal experiences transformed into a means of profit. Suffering, unfortunately, became marketable merchandise.

I had a direct experience with this phenomenon when my firm, Brighter Pictures, was responsible for creating “Big Brother UK”. At first, it started as an exploration of society, but soon transformed into a pattern: the greater the exposure, the more screen time – and audience loyalty – you garnered.

By 2010, the confessional floodgates were wide open and unyielding. Adele poured her heart out during a 60 Minutes interview and sold an astonishing 3.38 million albums in just one week. Britney made headlines by shaving her head publicly yet managed to stage a comeback. Kanye West erupted with rants, collapsed only to rebound again, all while maintaining a chaotic but persistent presence. Even the reality TV show, The Bachelor, utilized personal tragedies as dramatic elements: “I’m here for the right reasons—and also, my mother recently passed away.

But here’s the catch: not all feelings are created equal.

Do you recall Tom Cruise’s infamous couch-jumping incident on Oprah? It was intended to be full of joy and excitement, but it ended up appearing more like a malfunction. The tone, the format, and even the story arc were all off. In contrast, look at the redemption stories of Britney Spears or Demi Lovato – messy, certainly, but their struggles fit neatly into a pre-written narrative script. Their turmoil was expected in their stories.

We’re aiming for authenticity, accompanied by a professional touch. We desire a heartfelt narrative, a turnaround moment, and if possible, a fresh scent as the final note.

After the emergence of social media, everything gained an extra boost. Just as reality TV showed Hollywood that visibility equals sales, Instagram demonstrated to celebrities how they could control and share their own exposure.

Every “genuine” TikTok video is backed by a three-point lighting setup, and every “unfiltered” podcast conversation hides a carefully organized spreadsheet. Nowadays, celebrities don’t just learn message control at media training sessions, they also practice emotional timing. If you want to shed tears, that’s segment two for you! If you wish to appear spontaneous, rehearse it a dozen times first.

Some individuals collaborate with “storytelling advisors” – professionals who were previously screenwriters, public relations experts, and therapists, now known as brand storytellers. They devise your “journey of authenticity.” The first step: disclose past hardships. Step two: launch a mini-collection. Step three: rediscover happiness in a visually appealing feature.

It’s method acting—for your own personality.

There exist templates for expressing grief, workshops focusing on emotional openness, and public relations firms that excel in “emotional synchronization.” One advisor shared with me that they instruct their clients to pause after the term “struggle” – allowing the audience a moment to empathize emotionally. This pause is now more carefully planned than a grand entrance at the Met Gala.

It would be hilarious—if it weren’t so psychologically brutal.

Instead of hiding behind what we ignore: How does your personal existence transform when your turmoil turns into content? When your authentic self becomes simply another presentation slide, a design concept, an internet sensation, a beautifully lit and expressive image?

In this rephrased version, I aimed to maintain the original’s essence while using more natural and easy-to-read language.

It’s a cycle where we yearn for authenticity, they present it, we analyze it, leaving us questioning: Was that genuine emotion or merely an act of pretense?

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2025-05-02 03:55