From the supermodels of the 90s to digital influencers, we have seen a shift in the meaning of celebrity since the arrival of social networks like Snapchat and Instagram. Although some names first gained fame in traditional media, such as television, it was on the internet and social media that celebrities like Kylie Jenner established their audience and multiplied their products and businesses by reaching the digital native public (people born between 1988 and 1998).
But even though being a Victoria's Secret Angel and participating in fashion week still carries great status among models, it is digital beauty and fashion influencers who are also gaining space in advertising campaigns as representatives of a new wave of celebrities who are more accessible and "real" compared to Hollywood figures and top models. In reality, we now know that it is mainly micro-influencers who have been standing out over macro-influencers precisely because they offer this closer and more personal contact with their followers and fans.
However, while a person has their physical and mental limits, relying on both their appearance and their capacity for interaction and presence, it is virtual and artificial people who may be taking this space once reserved for celebrities and idols. This movement is particularly strong in Japan, a country where the idol culture (Idoru) has a tradition dating back to the early 1970s, when the film Cherchez l’idole (1963) arrived in the country. The premise of the work then began to be applied to any actress or actor, singer with a sweet appearance—especially those aged between 14 and 16.
It was during this time that Momoe Yamaguchi became a major national celebrity until she married and retired in the 1980s. Since then, the 80s became known as the golden years of Japanese idols, and it is estimated that about 40 to 50 new idols are manufactured each year, as there are actual talent agencies responsible for creating these celebrities. However, to be an idoru, it is not enough to have a pleasant appearance; there are ideals and expectations that prevent these celebrities from getting married or having a relationship, for example.
And these idorus are present to this day in advertising campaigns, soap operas, movies, shows, magazines, posters, as well as concerts and other events dedicated to fans. As a result, these celebrities end up becoming a fundamental piece of the Japanese media and economy: it is estimated that about 50 to 70% of advertising produced in Japan features an idol. But although these commercials are made to promote a product, they also end up serving as promotion for the idol themselves, and they are chosen according to the message and identity of the brand being advertised.
However, since 2007, it is virtual idols who have been conquering space in Japanese pop culture and also expanding to the West. This is the case of Hatsune Miku, a character who earns more than US$535 million in product sales and tickets for her shows, which use holography as a form of her live representation. This trend, by the way, has also reached the West, and it was, once again, the power of social media that made the influence of these virtual characters even greater.
This is the case of virtual influencers like Lil Miquela and Shudu Gram, who is considered the world's first international virtual supermodel. Recently, Shudu became the face of a campaign for the Fenty Beauty brand, led by singer Rihanna, while Lil Miquela, who has over 1 million followers on Instagram, sells her own products and also stars in campaigns, such as the one published in the April 2018 issue of Highsnobiety magazine.
In the photos, Miquela wears clothes from brands like BALENCIAGA and Moncler, proving it is possible to use virtual characters as models and new references of influence in contemporary times. In a long essaypublished on the Highsnobiety website, Aleks Eror analyzes the entire impact generated by the virtual influencer and how her success ended up happening at a time when so many people have been questioning social media and the content published there. In his words:
“It’s interesting that Lil Miquela emerged at almost the same moment that many of us began to realize how social media can be used to subvert the democratic process and we no longer ignore the damage the internet has done to our lives. Just like fake news, influencers have the ability to confuse our perception of reality, so we can say that Miquela runs the risk of being part of this problem, if she isn't already. When this question was put to her human creator, the answer was irredeemably optimistic: “The internet is infinitely powerful, and power has been applied in many ways. It’s as if we can’t put the genie back in the bottle, so we have to learn how to use these tools in a positive way. I use my platform to raise funds for important organizations in Los Angeles and I’ve seen that the results have included lives that have been changed. I think the only chance we have is to collectively teach our loved ones how to think critically and identify misinformation. I believe we can manifest the change we want to see, and the internet can be part of that.”
On the other hand, other analyses point to a disservice being done by these virtual influencers. In an article for the Dazed Digital website, Dominic Cadogan and Kemi Alemoru question whether these virtual girls are "stealing" jobs from Black and Latina models in the fashion industry. In the authors' words, "as if beauty standards weren't already high enough, now there are super-perfect models that don't actually exist—even if they do have personalities and their own social media accounts."
Despite this, Dominic believes that any representation is valid, and that these virtual models, ultimately, do not follow the rules of genetics or human reality: "they can take any form their creators want. To me, that's amazing." However, if these creators chose to create Black and Latina models instead of following the European beauty ideal, wouldn't that be a cause for celebration?
For Kemi, it is not. In an interview with Harper’s Bazaar, the creator of the virtual models Shudu and Nfon, photographer Cameron-James Wilson, said that Shudu is a "work of art": "She’s not a real model, unfortunately, but she represents a lot of the real models of today. There’s a big movement for dark-skinned models, so she represents them and is inspired by them." Kemi, however, argues that what Wilson is trying to say is that "Black is in fashion right now, not because the industry wants to improve its shocking record on diversity, but simply because people love the Black aesthetic. It is objectification in its purest form. Now, brands that borrow Shudu’s melanin-rich skin and Nfon’s sculptural features, as well as Miquela’s fun online persona, do so without the difficulty of breaking the glass ceiling to allow people of color to reach the top."
On the other hand, while virtual characters are created in the image of current beauty standards, it is the appeals from feminists and a greater push for female representation that are causing female characters to be designed more realistically and less programmed to cater to the aspirations of a male audience. Just as Lara Croft received a makeover in her representation in games and film, gynoids (realistic female robots) may also begin to follow a new design logic, as they have historically been created based on pop culture celebrities and, therefore, on the prevailing beauty standards in the media.
As stated by Hiroshi Ishiguro in his lecture at Japan House in São Paulo, these realistic robots are increasingly taking the place of Japanese idols—as is already the case with the gynoid Erica, created by the roboticist. For him, since these gynoids can be created to have flawless appearances and performances, perhaps these machines could one day facilitate a transition to an era where we leave unattainable beauty ideals reserved only for machines, thus freeing us from the aesthetic demands that cause so much anxiety, precisely because they are only attainable in the digital realm, in the simulacrum of virtual characters.