Remember when every influencer launched a brand and we all collectively rolled our eyes? Vitamins. Skincare. Alcohol. Athleisure. A period of maximum influencer-to-founder energy where having followers was treated as equivalent to having a business model.
Well, it's been a few years, and something interesting is happening: some of those brands are actually... good? And the ones that aren't are dying in real time, and it's teaching us things about the difference between attention and equity.
Let's look at the spectrum. On one end, you have Skims, which has become a legitimate multi-billion-dollar brand that could arguably survive without Kim Kardashian at this point. On the other end, you have a graveyard of influencer skincare lines that launched with a viral moment and died when the algorithm moved on.
The differentiator isn't the influencer's follower count. It's whether the brand was built on a genuine insight or just proximity to an audience.
Skims works because shapewear was genuinely broken for most body types. The insight (inclusive sizing, nude-shade matching for diverse skin tones, comfort-first construction) existed independently of Kim's fame. Her audience provided distribution, but the product provided the reason to stay.
Compare that to the influencer brands that are essentially "I have an audience, and audiences buy things, so let me sell them a thing." The product is an afterthought. The brand equity is entirely borrowed from the personal brand. And borrowed equity has a shelf life.
Here's what I'm seeing in 2024: the influencer brands that launched in 2019-2021 are hitting their maturity test. The initial hype has faded. The novelty of "my favorite creator made a thing" has worn off. And now these brands have to compete on the same playing field as everyone else: product quality, brand distinctiveness, customer experience, repeat purchase rate.
And now these brands have to compete on the same playing field as everyone else: product quality, brand distinctiveness, customer experience, repeat purchase rate.
Some are passing. Most are not.
The ones that are passing share common traits:
They invested in brand beyond the founder. They built visual identity, tone of voice, and campaign worlds that could exist without the influencer's face. They created brands, not merch.
They found a genuine category white space. Not "I'm entering a crowded market because I have distribution" but "I see a problem that nobody is solving well, and I happen to also have distribution."
They hired real operators. Not just a team of content creators repurposed as a CPG company. Actual supply chain people. Actual retail strategists. People who've scaled brands before.
For strategists working with influencer-founded brands, the question to ask right now is brutal but necessary: "If the founder deleted their social accounts tomorrow, would anyone still buy this product?" If the answer is no, you don't have a brand. You have a parasitic relationship with someone else's audience, and parasites eventually get expelled.
The influencer brand isn't dead. It's just being forced to justify its existence on merit rather than attention. Which is healthy. And overdue.