How We Let Teenagers Run the World's Marketing

Let’s talk about influencers. Not the old-school sort you might actually remember—a television host with a bit of flair, a columnist with a pinch of wit—but the modern “influencer.” These are the social media demigods, if you can even call them that, flooding our Instagram feeds, popping up between the TikTok dances, and raking in millions. They’re like some strange new species, with an apparent mission to get us to buy whatever they’re hawking. But while they may have the power to convince people to buy things, they’re as regulated as a toddler with a credit card in a toy shop.

This isn't an idle complaint from the over-30 crowd. Influencers—especially the ones with million-strong followings—are shaping habits, pushing products, and have somehow managed to weasel their way into becoming the poster children of consumer culture. And yet, there’s almost no legislation in place that stops them from selling whatever they fancy, in whatever way they fancy, to an audience that ranges from savvy 20-somethings to, more worryingly, children barely old enough to spell “influencer.”

Carola García Calderón from Mexico’s National Autonomous University (UNAM) put it quite aptly. According to her, the situation is downright dire, particularly when it comes to protecting kids and teenagers. These kids are soaking up everything influencers say like they’re modern-day prophets, and yet there’s no real check on what influencers are telling them to do, eat, or buy. García Calderón highlights that while advertising is nothing new, the “advice” doled out by influencers is often a covert type of advertising masquerading as friendly guidance. It’s more or less selling with a smile, and it’s a Wild West where it’s hard to tell the genuine article from a sales pitch.

And here’s where it all gets interesting. Because yes, governments and institutions have taken some action on traditional advertising. You see warnings on food products plastered with labels saying, “high in sugar” or “full of fat,” and there are even time restrictions for when such ads can be shown. But the influencer space is, shall we say, a bit looser. These digital celebrities are pushing products in a way that bypasses almost every advertising restriction known to humankind. The result? Legislation that’s as outdated as a fax machine in a world of smartphones.

Now, some of you might think this is all just another overreaction. “Just ignore the influencers,” you might say, “who really cares?” But the truth is, the influence of social media figures is very real. Children and teenagers are effectively living on these platforms, and while parents can try to monitor what their kids consume, let’s be honest: the sheer volume of digital content makes this a Herculean task. Just last week, Pablo González Casanova took a jab at advertising's role in public health issues like obesity, pointing out that ads will never outright tell you, “This will make you put on a few pounds.” And influencers are no better—they’re hardly likely to warn you about the less glamorous aspects of whatever sugary energy drink or ultra-processed snack they’re gleefully promoting.

The United States has actually made some strides on this front through the Federal Trade Commission (FTC), which has guidelines to rein in influencer content. And over in Spain, they’ve enacted an actual law—yes, a real law—to regulate what influencers can and can’t promote, and to whom. In Mexico, too, the Federal Consumer Protection Agency issued a set of guidelines in 2023, recommending that influencer content be truthful, verifiable, and free from deception. But let’s be honest here—guidelines are nice and all, but they’re about as enforceable as the office dress code on a Friday.

The Federal Commission for the Protection against Sanitary Risks even came out with its own guide recently, laying down what influencers can or can’t do, but it’s still not legally binding. García Calderón’s right: without an actual law with a bit of teeth to it, these guidelines are about as effective as asking a fox to kindly avoid the henhouse.

So, what’s the answer? Regulation is undeniably tricky. The social media landscape is vast, sprawling, and borderless. One influencer in Los Angeles can reach someone in London as easily as someone in Tokyo, and all without so much as a passport. Regulating content across borders, with each country’s differing advertising laws, is a monumental task. But this isn’t a problem that’s just going to vanish, and it’s high time we started taking the issue seriously.

Influencers can’t have it both ways. They want to be taken seriously as entrepreneurs, brand builders, and leaders of this peculiar digital generation. Fine. But if that’s the case, they need to play by the rules just like everyone else in advertising. We need legislation that’s as nimble and savvy as the influencers themselves. Otherwise, this generation of consumers—particularly the young and impressionable—will keep buying into a narrative that’s been sold to them through carefully curated filters and slick captions. And let’s not kid ourselves—this isn’t just about consumer protection. It’s about holding people accountable for the messages they send out to a digital audience that, for all its savviness, is still learning where to draw the line between what’s real and what’s just another sales pitch.

The Reasonably Priced Body

Ah, yes. Let’s dive into the modern obsession with bodies, status, and, of course, the mythical idea that buying the right granola bar will bring you health, happiness, and—if we’re really lucky—eternal youth. Or so the advertising world would have us believe. Our friend Úrsula Albo Cos, professor at the Faculty of Political and Social Sciences at UNAM, is on to something when she says that brands ought to try promoting real body diversity and acknowledging the fight against stereotypes. And she’s right, because as things stand, what you see in ads is about as genuine as a plastic plant in a rainforest.

But let’s face it: the world of advertising is much too busy peddling a mythical body image, one that only a handful of mortals—mostly with gym memberships and very good lighting—can achieve. We’re bombarded with picture-perfect bodies sculpted and slimmed by the finest filters and angles. Brands are trying to sell us a lie. And worse yet, some of them have had the audacity to slap a “nutritious” label on it, leading us straight into the murky territory of “nutriwashing.”

You’re watching television, scrolling through Instagram, and there it is—a supposedly healthy snack. It’s covered in branding that practically screams, “Eat me, I’m good for you!” But hang on a moment—read the label, and it turns out it’s chock-full of sugar and preservatives. We’re expected to believe it’s a health food, but it’s really just candy with an identity crisis. And people are buying it, both literally and figuratively. They’re tricked into thinking that health is something you can find in a bag or a box, instead of focusing on real food and real habits.

Professor Albo Cos reminds us that it’s not just obesity that’s a problem. While society is rightly concerned about obesity’s health impact, we rarely discuss the darker side of thinness. This idolization of a stick-thin ideal is no better, and it brings with it a host of psychological landmines. Eating disorders, self-image issues, and a treadmill of dissatisfaction. It’s a slippery slope, and one that advertising glides down with shocking regularity, pushing images of “ideal” bodies rather than talking about the actual benefits of health, energy, and a balanced life.

And speaking of treadmills, let’s talk about the class status we’re constantly sold alongside all these products. Miguel Ángel Rivera Herrera, another academic, has pointed out the uncomfortable truth: that so much of what we consume isn’t about need, taste, or nutrition. It’s about status. Brands sell us on prestige as much as on product. A certain brand of yogurt, a sleek protein shake—it’s not enough to simply consume these items; we’re made to feel that they need to be flaunted, just so everyone can see that we’re in the elite crowd of those who “get it.” You’re not just buying yogurt; you’re buying yourself a higher spot on the social ladder. Or so the marketers would like you to think.

Imagine strolling through a shopping mall with a gleaming branded bag, the logo practically glowing for all to see. It’s not a bag; it’s a social symbol. It’s the ultimate membership badge to the club of modern status-seekers. But Herrera’s point cuts through the nonsense: all this emphasis on consumption, on buying prestige rather than nourishment, is only going to lead us into a future where half of us are struggling with diabetes and high blood pressure, while the other half just can’t fit into their designer skinny jeans.

This whole consumption-as-status circus is something we’re all caught up in, whether we like it or not. The truth is, all of us are consuming more than just products—we’re consuming a lifestyle, one that’s manufactured and sold to us under the banner of success. And while it may look pretty on the outside, the long-term results aren’t so glamorous. In fact, they’re downright bleak. Herrera brings this home with a pointed observation: the things we eat and the lifestyle we buy into today aren’t just affecting us now. They’re going to show up in the future in the form of chronic illnesses and limitations. Forget the glowing Instagram pictures and think about what happens when these habits catch up with us in a doctor’s office.

And yet, there’s a glimmer of rebellion. The body positivity movement, for all its flaws, is at least trying to shout back at this advertising juggernaut. It wants to remind us that all bodies are valid, that beauty standards are a ridiculous invention, and that health should never look like a dress size. Yessica Paulina Cano Santander, another academic voice from UNAM, points out that this movement has unfortunately been hijacked by brands too. We’re now treated to advertisements where companies proudly stamp their approval on “body positivity,” even though they’re just cashing in on yet another trend. It’s become a watered-down version of its original self, as genuine as a cardboard cutout in a lineup of marathon runners.

But true body positivity isn’t about more hashtags and feel-good slogans. It’s about real change in the way we see ourselves and the way we’re seen by society. It’s about asking for advertising that reflects reality, not some glossy fantasy dreamed up by people who haven’t eaten carbs since the early 2000s. It’s about telling brands that real beauty doesn’t come from a bottle or a badge of luxury. Real beauty is something that simply exists, without a single ounce of help from a marketing agency.

At the end of the day, it all comes down to this: are we buying into a world that values our health, our diversity, our individuality? Or are we just buying into the idea that we’re not good enough until we have the right products, the right brands, and the right lifestyle? Because if it’s the latter, then maybe it’s time we all took a step back, read the labels a little closer, and start thinking for ourselves again.