Rejecting the "haul" culture of excessive shopping and promoting conscious consuming, the de-influencer movement is going mainstream – here's why.

In 2019, Diana Wiebe was deep in a social media scroll when she came across an influencer promoting heatless curling rods. "They were rods you could sleep in overnight, and the promise was to wake up with beautiful curls," she tells the BBC.

It was one of many products she was influenced to buy from TikTok, but like several of the others, including skin creams and facial scrubs, she quickly realised she didn't need them. "Honestly, the curlers really disrupted my sleep, and I didn't make it past night one," she says, adding "my hair is naturally wavy, so I think the curler actually did too much".

Fast forward to 2025, and Wiebe, who lives in Ohio, is now an influencer herself, but there is a difference between her and many others. She is trying to "de-influence" her followers from buying things they don't need.

In her daily TikTok videos, the content creator – who has more than 200,000 followers on the app – asks questions like "did you want that product before it was marketed to you?", and reminds her followers that weekly and monthly clothing "hauls" are not normal. "Haul" culture is a specific kind of social-media content that originated on YouTube in which creators reveal a haul of purchases – usually clothing – to their followers.

Wiebe is part of a movement – growing since 2023 – that rejects traditional influencer culture, one that has exploded on TikTok, with the hashtag #deinfluencing racking up more than a billion views.

Along with hashtags like "underconsumption core" and "conscious consumer", they share key messages, such as "fast fashion won't make you stylish" and "underconsumption is normal consumption". As we move into 2025, Wiebe believes the cultural tide is turning and that we've reached "peak influencer".

"Some of the content from influencers is just rage-bait", she says, referencing the internet tactic of posting content to incite anger and generate views. "People will do ridiculous things with, like, their water bottles, where they'll add a snack tray, and then they'll fill it with Taco Bell or something," she explains, describing the videos where creators showcase their Stanley Cups fitted with needless accessories.

TikTok has become the default home for influencers, but with the app facing an uncertain future in the US, Wiebe believes it's a time of change. "I don't know the future of TikTok, but the kind of influencing we see on there doesn't happen on other apps", she says, mentioning how prolific haul content has become on TikTok, versus other platforms like Instagram.

Wiebe thinks this shift stems from an increased awareness of what influencers actually do (in the UK there are laws in place to address this). "When I started seeing more adverts on my TikTok timeline, I thought about how much I'd already purchased in the last few years because of influencer reviews," she says. "It suddenly hit me that it was all advertising, from paid promotional content to the creators sharing hauls. It's not like watching TV, where you can recognise a commercial. Influencers feel like hearing from a friend or family member because we almost view our favourite TikTokers as people we know."

Most of Wiebe's interactions online are positive, with comments like, "I needed to hear this advice today". Others, however, question why she feels the need to meddle in other people's shopping habits. Wiebe is keen to stress that she's not........

© BBC