Manifesting luck

Do influencers owe you transparency?

In periods of deep anxiety I have often found myself perusing the internet looking for accounts which match up with my own. It’s usually only helpful for a few minutes - reassurance seeking is not actually a good coping mechanism - since all it does is usher you into a loop where any meagre comfort you find only prompts you to look for more. 

It’s easy to do this kind of searching on TikTok and Instagram, where the algorithm gloms on to your interests with frightening speed. My ‘for you page’ now offers me a slew of therapy and wellness accounts, which swing between mildly helpful and what I personally consider dangerous. I say dangerous because I find so much of the wellness content promoted by influencers online to be unattainable, often the opposite of evidence based, and usually asking you to shell out for more information. 

I’ve talked about my cynicism about the wellness industry before, but I wrote something for Vogue this month which prompted further thoughts. In a piece about why so many of us find it difficult to talk about money, I mentioned that it’s partly because the foundations upon which we build our own finances are so unequal and opaque to others. 

Someone can so easily feel as though they’re failing at life because they’re unable to buy their own home, and yet their co-worker has a nice three bedroom on the same salary. What they don’t know is that their colleague got help from the bank of mum and dad. Similarly, have you ever seen a business guru exhorting you to hustle and grind like they do, and wondered how they’ve been able to stay in first class hotels around the world at the ripe old age of 23? You might suspect that maybe their starting point was more cushioned than they let on, but others looking to improve their lives might not question it at all. They might look at this hustler and try to play like them in a game which has been rigged from the start. 

Recently I came across an account which promised to transform your life through manifesting and an online confidence course which cost £450 for four sessions. The pitch was oddly alluring, even to my skeptical eye. This woman was incredibly convincing when it came to explaining that she’d struggled her entire life, and built her business from the ground up using these methods. She emphasised how she’d eliminated her own anxiety with manifesting techniques, and for a brief moment I felt myself being tempted. She was so stylish, travelling all over the world and living what looked like a fabulous life. I wanted it, it was as if I’d forgotten that anxiety is (for me) a life long thing which can’t be cured with crystals and mood boards. I googled her, and discovered that her family was worth millions and that she didn’t actually have any qualifications worth noting when it came to mental health (to be fair, neither do I). I moved on, but not before seeing she had over a hundred thousand followers. The lack of transparency meant she could present herself as relatable, just like you. Her entire online presence was set up to tell me that if she could better herself, I could too. I don’t think she was being deliberately disingenuous, but the additional information helped remind me that her programme probably wasn’t for me. 

I’m a major beneficiary of the rigged game too. As I wrote in Vogue, I occasionally get messages asking me how to get a book deal. Once or twice I’ve even been told that I’m an inspiration when it comes to careers, which is awful because all I’ve had in life is luck and leg ups - from birth! My entire existence has been forged by a series of fortunate moments I’ve not earned - a family who didn’t have to worry about money, a dad who ran a newspaper I was hired to work at because of course his job meant I knew people there (At 41, I am a now geriatric nepo baby), then marrying someone fairly well known - which meant I had a sizeable platform to launch a book from. None of these things are normal or attainable through hard work or life coaching, but if you don’t know that, someone struggling to get noticed by a publisher might see my career and wonder why it’s worked for me and not them. I am not a better writer (some might read this and agree a little too vigorously), I just had really unfair advantages. 

It’s natural to want to present the best narrative of your own life online, and obviously if you’re trying to sell something, then listing all the ways your own life has been boosted by luck, money or connections won’t chime as well as saying you’ve done it all yourself. But when your prospective customers are vulnerable, looking for help with deep seated insecurities or health issues, it feels all the more worth mentioning the advantages you’ve had. Someone saying they cured chronic health issues with clean eating doesn’t have to add that they probably also had amazing private health care, but it’s information which might help someone considering paying for their diet app. A wellness influencer who sells tote bags with inspirational messages might acknowledge that she has the money for excellent therapy, nannies and holidays - all the things which really help boost mental health. The most infamous example of this behaviour is Donald Trump, who made a career out of selling his supposed business acumen. He didn’t seem so keen to mention that his father’s money and connections paved the way for him to so.

Not every successful online influencer has had help - I’m sure there are many who genuinely did work their way to where they are now. But the murkiness surrounding the origins of so many of these accounts often promotes a sense of inadequacy and a desire to buy what’s being sold. If you don’t know how the sausage is made, it’s more likely to look delicious, to butcher a phrase. There is a way to acknowledge privilege and still believe the thing you’re offering up might be helpful - and I’ve not always managed it - to push the message that positive mantras alone delivered your bountiful success isn’t really defensible when you’re offering your audience help at a price.  

This is a photo of Sambourne house which was inherited by Roy Sambourne. He did not have to manifest a thing.

Things I’ve been enjoying -

We are watching Mad Men for the first time - fingers on the cultural pulse! - and we now talk about Don Draper as if we know him. It’s fantastic telly and I’m sort of in love with Joan.

Pilates - at home, to YouTube videos. I’m almost certainly doing it all wrong so if you have tips please let me know. I’m surprised at how much I like it, and how hard it is.

This recipe by Diana Henry which I’ve made 3 times in 10 days and will repeat until I spoil it for myself. I lose the capers, because they are my enemy.