A violin plays the first few notes of Luigi Boccherini’s Minuetto as a well-dressed, well-coiffed teenager flashes images from his lavish lifestyle: crystal chandeliers, Lamborghinis, indoor pools.
Welcome to the #richboycheck hashtag on TikTok, a social media platform popular with teenagers, where the apparently wealthy “flex”—slang for showing off your wealth—while others mercilessly mock them. On display are wads of cash, Rolexes and closets stacked with designer sneakers. (Also on trend: satirically writing “GUCCI” onto a piece of paper and sticking it to your hoodie.)
Whether they are being gawked at, idolized or made fun of, there is a clear fascination with the hyper-connected nouveau riche—the often-youthful Instagrammers who let you see inside their mansions; the YouTubers who let you peer inside their closets.
But if Instagram is your lens on the world outside your bedroom or neighbourhood, you are viewing a warped reality. A project called Inequaligram, run by the City University of New York, looked at 7.5 million Instagram posts shared in Manhattan in 2014 and concluded that wealthy neighbourhoods were dramatically over-represented in posts, including those from people who lived in poorer parts of the city.
At a time of soaring income inequality in North America, as more and more wealth is concentrated in the hands of very few, the hive mind seems to have reconfirmed that affluence, however elusive, is the ideal. That it is better to filter out poverty. That the “vagabond shoes” and “little town blues” are easily swapped out for “king of the hill, top of the list,” to channel Frank Sinatra.
Multi-billion-dollar industries are built around the “influence” peddled by popular online figures whose followers have never laid eyes upon them in real life and who almost always appear independently wealthy. Some are explicitly, openly fake: an uncanny-valley “robot” called Lil Miquela has 1.9 million Instagram followers, to whom she recently recommended the Samsung Galaxy S20.
Instagram post from @lilmiquela, promoting Samsung Galaxy (@lilmiquela/instagram)
It’s hardly surprising that people will go to lengths for a slice of that pie. So what does the modern wannabe do? It isn’t hard to imagine the rationale. If everybody who is online broadcasts the best version of themselves, why not go a step further and look like the person you wish you were? Why not drop a few hundred bucks and feel like a Kardashian for half an hour? If you take a picture, it’ll last even longer.
For people who want to take a shortcut, the concept of “fake it ’til you make it” leads to heavy-handed Photoshopping at one end of the spectrum, the temporary rental of luxury goods, services and venues somewhere in the middle and—driven by insecurity, narcissism or gullibility—pyramid schemes and criminal fraud at the other.
But a dive into flex culture suggests something deeper is going on. No matter their motives, people are selling some version of themselves. Their brands, put on the altar of a fickle internet, are a reflection of their innermost desires—or at the very least their perceptions of success.
Social media is a hall of funhouse mirrors, an endless glittering Midtown Manhattan. People stretch and distort themselves. They exaggerate and inflate. If they’re not careful, they can have a hard time finding the exit.
“The logic behind it, bro? This faking it until you make it thing? It’s a serious thing, bro. It works, bro, for some reason.”
That’s what YouTuber ChristianAdamG concluded after a social experiment last spring. He tried faking wealth on Instagram by using Photoshop—putting himself in a private jet, driving an exotic car, standing next to celebrities—and, at the end of a week of twists and turns, landed a couple of thousand new followers. His video documenting that experience has more than 5.6 million views.
YouTuber ChristianAdamG posting a before and after of how he faked wealth on his social channel (ChristianAdamG/YouTube)
There’s a cottage industry of how-to guides that share tips for looking rich on the ’gram, like a video titled “10 Ways to Look Expensive on a Budget” (1.5 million views) from a YouTube account called the School of Affluence. Most of the advice doesn’t require you to be a gifted photo editor. Just to be bold. For example, visit open houses to look like you live in a swanky place. When rapper Lil Tay emerged as an internet star at the age of nine, she was branded as a Louis Vuitton-wearing L.A. rich kid. But really, her mother was a Vancouver realtor with access to a penthouse.
Some advice is off-the-wall—take a toilet seat and make it look like you’re sitting by an airplane window. But some of it makes sense. Want to seem like you can afford a Hermes bag? Try one on at the store and take a picture. Just don’t buy it. Want to seem like you dine at high-end restaurants? Post Yelp reviews, with a #richkidsofinstagram hashtag on your posts for good measure.
Those willing to spend can pull off the appearance of luxury without owning a Rolls Royce. In Vancouver a Porsche Convertible will put you back more than $600 for a 24-hour rental. But won’t you feel like a million bucks? There are penthouses on Airbnb. Designer outfits from Rent the Runway. Private jet companies that will let you pose on the leather seats, even if the plane doesn’t take off.
With your foot in the door as a perceived influencer—it helps, by the way, to be beautiful—it is possible to join a strange ecosystem of social media users who collaborate with each other, and with businesses, offline. Influencers attend real events as special celebrity guests, basking in each other’s influential glow, putting on a show for thousands of gawkers whose susceptibility to their glowy influence is almost impossible to measure.
Justin Plosz, 36, hosted an infamous party at a sprawling mansion last June in Anmore, B.C., in the hills above Coquitlam. It was billed as a launch for his public relations business and a birthday party for his friend.
Neighbours and local politicians were incensed after sports cars and helicopters disrupted the town. One of the helicopter pilots was a convicted drug dealer, the Vancouver Sun reported, and an ambulance was called to the party after a suspected drug overdose occurred.
Plosz, a former used-car salesman from Saskatchewan, has no regrets. He got some new clients, and besides, the party paid for itself. “The expenses never really came from me. A lot of the companies were just happy to be there. They showed up, they put up promo tents, they brought beautiful girls, backdrops, everything. So there was not a lot of overhead,” he says.
Another “crazy” mansion party is in the works for Toronto this June. Plosz is branding it the “Exclusive Mansion Helicopter Show 2020” and is inviting Instagram influencers to sell sponsorship space on posts that advertise their attendance. His dreams of bigger and better stunts include “a military tank blowing something up” or “arriving at a crazy boat party in a military submarine.”
Like anyone on Instagram, Plosz, who has the requisite photos with yachts and sports cars, is projecting a highly curated version of himself. “It’s a character. It’s what people want to see, so then that’s what you show them,” he says. “People want to be entertained; they don’t want to be educated.”
Instagram post from @liltay (@liltay/instagram)
If your “character” brings you success, it’s easy to feel positive, Jennifer Shapka says when I tell her about how Plosz sees his own schtick. “I wonder though, had things not worked out, whether he would be feeling so positive, and able to separate himself so comfortably from his online persona.”
Shapka, who teaches developmental psychology at the University of British Columbia, says there’s no academic research yet on why people take pains to flex online. But she thinks it’s a combination of exposure to celebrity lifestyles and the knowledge that ordinary people, like never before, can use online personas as a vehicle for success.
“There are so many YouTube-famous, Instagram-famous people now who were just regular kids who somehow made it. So anyone can do it,” says Shapka. “It’s really infiltrated, this idea that fame and fortune is just a few clicks away.”
It’s also perfectly normal for kids to try out different identities as they grow up, she notes. “But when we add in the technology and we add in social media, you can try out idealized identities of yourself, ones that you think are going to draw friends and enhance your popularity. It is really just sharing what you think people want to see.”
People who lean into inauthentic online identities when they’re young may start to “feel fake all the time,” Shapka adds, “so I would worry about their development in terms of being able to form relationships. All your relationships would feel false. Your sense of self would feel false.”
Eleftherios Soleas, a PhD candidate at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ont., who is researching motivation, has studied the phenomenon of graduate students using social media to flex—at least, to boast about their success, if not their Chanel outfits. On social media, academic peers see the glass of Prosecco a successful graduate student raises in celebration, not the late nights they spent rewriting articles. And because those onlookers are comparing themselves to someone else’s highly curated best moments, it makes them feel inadequate. “They’re drinking pulpless orange juice,” Soleas says of social media users. “All of the sugar and none of the fibre.”
Trying to appear successful on social media could be a way for people to feel better about themselves, Soleas says. “If you look like you’re doing it, you feel like you’re doing it.” Or they may simply enjoy the rush of positive feelings that can come from likes or comments.
Before launching into guidance on how to find designer look-alike fabrics, YouTuber Mirella Derungs, wearing flawless makeup and a glittering choker, gets right to the heart of it in a video titled “How to Look Rich AF!” (“AF” being web slang for “as f–k”).
“I notice people like to follow people who look rich, who look as if they have their sh– together, who look as if they know what they’re doing in life,” she says earnestly, “who have goals and are working on something. People just like to follow successful people. Because it makes them feel inspired.”
Where’s the blurry line between paying to enjoy a luxurious trip and paying to brand yourself as the type of person who can afford to hang out in hangars and pose in the wilderness with a chopper in the background? Either way, you’re probably taking selfies.
For people aspiring to build careers on the strength of their Instagram popularity in an influencer industry worth some $13 billion annually, that line doesn’t necessarily exist. Plenty of businesses are ready to cash in on the advertising potential.
Over the last three or four years, Sky Helicopters, a heli-adventure and tour company in Vancouver, has partnered with influencers, sometimes offering discounts or freebies in exchange for public recommendations to followers. “It’s hard to put a monetary number to the business that you get from that,” says George Lacny, the company’s marketing director. “It’s just one of many different avenues that any business today has to understand.”
Figuring out who is legitimate (and not just looking for a free vacation) comes down to “good detective work,” says Lacny, like checking for suspicious patterns in likes and comments. That’s important because some aspiring influencers cross into actual fraud.
People can buy fake audiences for their accounts in the range of US$10-15 per 1,000 followers. A 2019 study from CHEQ AI and the University of Baltimore predicted that influencers who bought followers or engagements from bot farms would swindle advertisers out of US$1.5 billion this year.
Fellow internet users do a good job outing and shaming people who are fabricating their wealth. The New York Times reported last fall that Instagram account @BallerBusters was finding and revealing fraudulent influencers, or “#FlexOffenders,” for a large audience. Instagram and TikTok comments are rife with accusations of fakery.
Anna Sorokin returns from a recess during her trial at New York State Supreme Court, in New York, April 22, 2019. (Richard Drew/CP)
But sometimes it becomes a police matter. Anna Sorokin, a.k.a. Anna Delvey, was convicted in New York last year of theft and grand larceny for manipulating banks, hotels, a jet operator, restaurants and individuals out of more than US$200,000 using a fake identity she created online. In one case, she emptied out a hotel minibar, consuming $6 Diet Cokes and asking that the fridge be refilled. In another, she dined-and-dashed on four glasses of wine, two smoked salmon sandwiches and a fruit salad. The Russian immigrant, who was posing as a German heiress, was sentenced to at least four years in prison.
During his opening statement, Sorokin’s lawyer Todd Spodek said there’s a bit of Anna in everyone. “Through her sheer ingenuity, she created the life that she wanted for herself,” he said. “Anna was not content with being a spectator, but wanted to be a participant. Anna didn’t wait for opportunities, Anna created opportunities. Now we can all relate to that.”
Spodek invoked Frank Sinatra and the dream of climbing to the top of the heap: “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere!”
This article appears in print in the April 2020 issue of Maclean’s magazine with the headline, “Flex culture for rent.” Subscribe to the monthly print magazine here.
Sutherland House Experts is Empowering Quiet Experts through Compelling Nonfiction in a Changing Ideas Landscape
TORONTO, ON — Almost one year after its launch, Sutherland House Experts is reshaping the publishing industry with its innovative co-publishing model for “quiet experts.” This approach, where expert authors share both costs and profits with the publisher, is bridging the gap between expertise and public discourse. Helping to drive this transformation is Neil Seeman, a renowned author, educator, and entrepreneur.
“The book publishing world is evolving rapidly,” publisher Neil Seeman explains. “There’s a growing hunger for expert voices in public dialogue, but traditional channels often fall short. Sutherland House Experts provides a platform for ‘quiet experts’ to share their knowledge with the broader book-reading audience.”
The company’s roster boasts respected thought leaders whose books are already gaining major traction:
• V. Kumar Murty, a world-renowned mathematician, and past Fields Institute director, just published “The Science of Human Possibilities” under the new press. The book has been declared a 2024 “must-read” by The Next Big Ideas Club and is receiving widespread media attention across North America.
• Eldon Sprickerhoff, co-founder of cybersecurity firm eSentire, is seeing strong pre-orders for his upcoming book, “Committed: Startup Survival Tips and Uncommon Sense for First-Time Tech Founders.”
• Dr. Tony Sanfilippo, a respected cardiologist and professor of medicine at Queen’s University, is generating significant media interest with his forthcoming book, “The Doctors We Need: Imagining a New Path for Physician Recruitment, Training, and Support.”
Seeman, whose recent and acclaimed book, “Accelerated Minds,” explores the entrepreneurial mindset, brings a unique perspective to publishing. His experience as a Senior Fellow at the University of Toronto’s Institute of Health Policy, Management and Evaluation, and academic affiliations with The Fields Institute and Massey College, give him deep insight into the challenges faced by people he calls “quiet experts.”
“Our goal is to empower quiet, expert authors to become entrepreneurs of actionable ideas the world needs to hear,” Seeman states. “We are blending scholarly insight with market savvy to create accessible, impactful narratives for a global readership. Quiet experts are people with decades of experience in one or more fields who seek to translate their insights into compelling non-fiction for the world,” says Seeman.
This fall, Seeman is taking his insights to the classroom. He will teach the new course, “The Writer as Entrepreneur,” at the University of Toronto, offering aspiring authors practical tools to navigate the evolving book publishing landscape. To enroll in this new weekly night course starting Tuesday, October 1st, visit: https://learn.utoronto.ca/programs-courses/courses/4121-writer-entrepreneur
“The entrepreneurial ideas industry is changing rapidly,” Seeman notes. “Authors need new skills to thrive in this dynamic environment. My course and our publishing model provide those tools.”
About Neil Seeman: Neil Seeman is co-founder and publisher of Sutherland House Experts, an author, educator, entrepreneur, and mental health advocate. He holds appointments at the University of Toronto, The Fields Institute, and Massey College. His work spans entrepreneurship, public health, and innovative publishing models.
Hallmark launching a streaming service with two new original series, and Bill Skarsgård out for revenge in “Boy Kills World” are some of the new television, films, music and games headed to a device near you.
Also among the streaming offerings worth your time as selected by The Associated Press’ entertainment journalists: Alex Garland’s “Civil War” starring Kirsten Dunst, Natasha Rothwell’s heartfelt comedy for Hulu called “How to Die Alone” and Sylvester Stallone’s second season of “Tulsa King” debuts.
NEW MOVIES TO STREAM SEPT. 9-15
— Alex Garland’s “Civil War” is finally making its debut on MAX on Friday. The film stars Kirsten Dunst as a veteran photojournalist covering a violent war that’s divided America; She reluctantly allows an aspiring photographer, played by Cailee Spaeny, to tag along as she, an editor (Stephen McKinley Henderson) and a reporter (Wagner Moura) make the dangerous journey to Washington, D.C., to interview the president (Nick Offerman), a blustery, rising despot who has given himself a third term, taken to attacking his citizens and shut himself off from the press. In my review, I called it a bellowing and haunting experience; Smart and thought-provoking with great performances. It’s well worth a watch.
— Joey King stars in Netflix’s adaptation of Scott Westerfeld’s “Uglies,” about a future society in which everyone is required to have beautifying cosmetic surgery at age 16. Streaming on Friday, McG directed the film, in which King’s character inadvertently finds herself in the midst of an uprising against the status quo. “Outer Banks” star Chase Stokes plays King’s best friend.
— Bill Skarsgård is out for revenge against the woman (Famke Janssen) who killed his family in “Boy Kills World,” coming to Hulu on Friday. Moritz Mohr directed the ultra-violent film, of which Variety critic Owen Gleiberman wrote: “It’s a depraved vision, yet I got caught up in its kick-ass revenge-horror pizzazz, its disreputable commitment to what it was doing.”
— The year was 2006. Snow Patrol, the Northern Irish-Scottish alternative rock band, released an album, “Eyes Open,” producing the biggest hit of their career: “Chasing Cars.” A lot has happened in the time since — three, soon to be four quality full-length albums, to be exact. On Friday, the band will release “The Forest Is the Path,” their first new album in seven years. Anthemic pop-rock is the name of the game across songs of love and loss, like “All,”“The Beginning” and “This Is the Sound Of Your Voice.”
— For fans of raucous guitar music, Jordan Peele’s 2022 sci-fi thriller, “NOPE,” provided a surprising, if tiny, thrill. One of the leads, Emerald “Em” Haywood portrayed by Keke Palmer, rocks a Jesus Lizard shirt. (Also featured through the film: Rage Against the Machine, Wipers, Mr Bungle, Butthole Surfers and Earth band shirts.) The Austin noise rock band are a less than obvious pick, having been signed to the legendary Touch and Go Records and having stopped releasing new albums in 1998. That changes on Friday the 13th, when “Rack” arrives. And for those curious: The Jesus Lizard’s intensity never went away.
— Hallmark launched a streaming service called Hallmark+ on Tuesday with two new original series, the scripted drama “The Chicken Sisters” and unscripted series “Celebrations with Lacey Chabert.” If you’re a Hallmark holiday movies fan, you know Chabert. She’s starred in more than 30 of their films and many are holiday themed. Off camera, Chabert has a passion for throwing parties and entertaining. In “Celebrations,” deserving people are surprised with a bash in their honor — planned with Chabert’s help. “The Chicken Sisters” stars Schuyler Fisk, Wendie Malick and Lea Thompson in a show about employees at rival chicken restaurants in a small town. The eight-episode series is based on a novel of the same name.
— Natasha Rothwell of “Insecure” and “The White Lotus” fame created and stars in a new heartfelt comedy for Hulu called “How to Die Alone.” She plays Mel, a broke, go-along-to-get-along, single, airport employee who, after a near-death experience, makes the conscious decision to take risks and pursue her dreams. Rothwell has been working on the series for the past eight years and described it to The AP as “the most vulnerable piece of art I’ve ever put into the world.” Like Mel, Rothwell had to learn to bet on herself to make the show she wanted to make. “In the Venn diagram of me and Mel, there’s significant overlap,” said Rothwell. It premieres Friday on Hulu.
— Shailene Woodley, DeWanda Wise and Betty Gilpin star in a new drama for Starz called “Three Women,” about entrepreneur Sloane, homemaker Lina and student Maggie who are each stepping into their power and making life-changing decisions. They’re interviewed by a writer named Gia (Woodley.) The series is based on a 2019 best-selling book of the same name by Lisa Taddeo. “Three Women” premieres Friday on Starz.
— Sylvester Stallone’s second season of “Tulsa King” debuts Sunday on Paramount+. Stallone plays Dwight Manfredi, a mafia boss who was recently released from prison after serving 25 years. He’s sent to Tulsa to set up a new crime syndicate. The series is created by Taylor Sheridan of “Yellowstone” fame.
— One thing about the title of Focus Entertainment’s Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine 2 — you know exactly what you’re in for. You are Demetrian Titus, a genetically enhanced brute sent into battle against the Tyranids, an insectoid species with an insatiable craving for human flesh. You have a rocket-powered suit of armor and an arsenal of ridiculous weapons like the “Chainsword,” the “Thunderhammer” and the “Melta Rifle,” so what could go wrong? Besides the squishy single-player mode, there are cooperative missions and six-vs.-six free-for-alls. You can suit up now on PlayStation 5, Xbox X/S or PC.
— Likewise, Wild Bastards isn’t exactly the kind of title that’s going to attract fans of, say, Animal Crossing. It’s another sci-fi shooter, but the protagonists are a gang of 13 varmints — aliens and androids included — who are on the run from the law. Each outlaw has a distinctive set of weapons and special powers: Sarge, for example, is a robot with horse genes, while Billy the Squid is … well, you get the idea. Australian studio Blue Manchu developed the 2019 cult hit Void Bastards, and this Wild-West-in-space spinoff has the same snarky humor and vibrant, neon-drenched cartoon look. Saddle up on PlayStation 5, Xbox X/S, Nintendo Switch or PC.
Former President Donald Trump is on the brink of a significant financial decision that could have far-reaching implications for both his personal wealth and the future of his fledgling social media company, Trump Media & Technology Group (TMTG). As the lockup period on his shares in TMTG, which owns Truth Social, nears its end, Trump could soon be free to sell his substantial stake in the company. However, the potential payday, which makes up a large portion of his net worth, comes with considerable risks for Trump and his supporters.
Trump’s stake in TMTG comprises nearly 59% of the company, amounting to 114,750,000 shares. As of now, this holding is valued at approximately $2.6 billion. These shares are currently under a lockup agreement, a common feature of initial public offerings (IPOs), designed to prevent company insiders from immediately selling their shares and potentially destabilizing the stock. The lockup, which began after TMTG’s merger with a special purpose acquisition company (SPAC), is set to expire on September 25, though it could end earlier if certain conditions are met.
Should Trump decide to sell his shares after the lockup expires, the market could respond in unpredictable ways. The sale of a substantial number of shares by a major stakeholder like Trump could flood the market, potentially driving down the stock price. Daniel Bradley, a finance professor at the University of South Florida, suggests that the market might react negatively to such a large sale, particularly if there aren’t enough buyers to absorb the supply. This could lead to a sharp decline in the stock’s value, impacting both Trump’s personal wealth and the company’s market standing.
Moreover, Trump’s involvement in Truth Social has been a key driver of investor interest. The platform, marketed as a free speech alternative to mainstream social media, has attracted a loyal user base largely due to Trump’s presence. If Trump were to sell his stake, it might signal a lack of confidence in the company, potentially shaking investor confidence and further depressing the stock price.
Trump’s decision is also influenced by his ongoing legal battles, which have already cost him over $100 million in legal fees. Selling his shares could provide a significant financial boost, helping him cover these mounting expenses. However, this move could also have political ramifications, especially as he continues his bid for the Republican nomination in the 2024 presidential race.
Trump Media’s success is closely tied to Trump’s political fortunes. The company’s stock has shown volatility in response to developments in the presidential race, with Trump’s chances of winning having a direct impact on the stock’s value. If Trump sells his stake, it could be interpreted as a lack of confidence in his own political future, potentially undermining both his campaign and the company’s prospects.
Truth Social, the flagship product of TMTG, has faced challenges in generating traffic and advertising revenue, especially compared to established social media giants like X (formerly Twitter) and Facebook. Despite this, the company’s valuation has remained high, fueled by investor speculation on Trump’s political future. If Trump remains in the race and manages to secure the presidency, the value of his shares could increase. Conversely, any missteps on the campaign trail could have the opposite effect, further destabilizing the stock.
As the lockup period comes to an end, Trump faces a critical decision that could shape the future of both his personal finances and Truth Social. Whether he chooses to hold onto his shares or cash out, the outcome will likely have significant consequences for the company, its investors, and Trump’s political aspirations.
