At some point in the last five years, social media turned into a nonstop shopping mall—and we all became the guy at the kiosk aggressively selling ourselves exfoliators, Stanley cups and LED skincare masks we don’t even understand. There’s no shame in it. We were promised glowing skin, emotional stability and a personality upgrade if we just clicked “add to cart.”
And honestly? A lot of us did.
But now, we’re collectively realizing we might’ve been… a little too influenceable. Enter the trend no one saw coming: de-influencing—aka the movement of creators telling you what not to buy, which viral products didn’t live up to the hype and which Amazon “essentials” are actually just future landfill in cuter packaging.
It’s part cultural correction, part financial survival strategy. Because in 2025, being chronically online and broke is no longer the vibe.
The concept is simple. Instead of pushing affiliate links and “one last thing you need,” de-influencers are giving us the anti-haul. It’s refreshing. A little petty. And way too relatable.
Some creators are casually roasting products they regret buying (“this broke in three days”), while others are pulling full Marie Kondo, making lists of things that sparked zero joy and cost actual rent money. And people are listening. #DeInfluencing has over 900 million views on TikTok. Probably because we’re all out here, sitting on a pile of things we ordered during an emotional spiral that now live in the back of a drawer.
Impulse buying is nothing new, but social media took it from “whoops, I got gum at checkout” to “how did I end up with a $60 self-cleaning water bottle I didn’t know existed until ten minutes ago?”
Spending coach Paige Pritchard says this isn’t just a money thing—it’s an identity thing. In an interview with The New York Post, she explained that most impulse buys are about chasing a feeling: control, comfort, connection.
“We all have triggers,” she said. “You’re not a failure for wanting something. It’s about understanding why.”
Which sounds like a therapy session in the Target skincare aisle. But honestly? She’s right.
De-influencing isn’t about becoming some smug minimalist with exactly six outfits and no personality. It’s just about not letting the algorithm make your personality for you.
Even Marie Kondo, the original patron saint of buying less, recently admitted her house is kind of messy now. “I’ve kind of given up,” she said after having her third child. Same, Marie. Same. But she also said she’s more focused now on whether her time is joyful—not just her stuff. And that’s basically the heart of de-influencing: making space for what actually matters and not buying things to fill the weird existential void that TikTok marketing convinced us is “just a vibe.”
Here’s what de-influencing looks like in the wild:
- Muting people who make you feel like your life needs more beige ceramic mugs
- Waiting 48 hours before impulse-buying anything over $20
- Saying “that’s cute for them” instead of “add to cart”
- Reminding yourself that buying a new planner is not the same thing as becoming organized
- Letting go of the guilt when you don’t buy the thing everyone else swears “changed their life”
At its core, de-influencing isn’t anti-shopping. It’s pro-agency. It’s about buying things because you genuinely want them—not because you were subtly peer-pressured by a 19-year-old with perfect lighting and a closet full of PR boxes.
And in a world that’s constantly telling us we’re one purchase away from being better, more lovable versions of ourselves, choosing less might actually be the most freeing flex we’ve got.
