Issue #6: Storm Area 51, The Dress and freakouts over deepfakes
A sporadic download of the top three things taking up my brain space right now, as well as some other stuff piquing my interest from around the internet.
Longreads at the top, bitesized at the bottom.
1. Storm Area 51 is proof that Facebook isn’t dead
Earlier this month, the administrators of Facebook-based meme page ‘Shitposting cause im in shambles’ and Twitch streamer Smyleekun created a satirical Facebook event named ‘Storm Area 51, They Can't Stop All of Us’. “We will all meet up at the Area 51 Alien Center tourist attraction and coordinate our entry,” reads the invite. “If we naruto run, we can move faster than their bullets. Lets see them aliens.” Since then, more than a million people have confirmed they’ll be attending, while almost as many have marked themselves as interested.
The group’s creators baked the internet’s favourite thing – nerdy in-jokes – into the very fabric of the invite and ensuing conversations. While ‘naruto run’ refers to the eponymous meme, which centres around the main character from anime Naruto’s running style (his arms spread back behind him), later comments in the thread saw Kyles (a specific breed of teenaged boy in America) recruited as members of the front line for the aforementioned Storming. The group’s cross pollination with other meme communities – and its subsequent spread to platforms beyond Facebook – have elevated Storm Area 51 into the wider internet's collective consciousness.
Why should brands care?
The hand Facebook has played in the formation of the internet as we know it hasn’t served it well in recent history. On the contrary, it’s mired in controversy over data breaches and privacy, its efforts to expand into cryptocurrency are hitting complications with regulators and – if all that wasn’t enough – it’s broadly perceived to be the lamest uncle in the social platform family. A study from 2018 predicted that more than 3 million under-25s from the UK and US would leave the site that year.
But hang on a sec. If Facebook is sooo old and soooooo lame, how are moments like Storm Area 51 being born there? It’s not an anomaly either; its creators have already found success with their own pages on the platform, while recent years have seen a number of parody Facebook pages and events engage people en masse. My favourite of these is Generic Office Roleplay– a group started by teenagers to mock the mundanity of grown-up life in an office, which has been active since 2015.
Facebook still has a role to play in the creation and circulation of online culture. While people are increasingly cynical of the platform as a place to post their own content –one survey showed that trust in the platform has dropped by 66% since Cambridge Analytica – its pages and group features are thriving. This isn’t just about trust, though. It’s about the fact that it still boasts the best tools for creating and managing groups and (in particular) Events. In fact, it claims more than 100 million people use its Events function daily. Whether people will migrate should an equally convenient tool emerge remains to be seen, but it’s also not as irrelevant as people think.
TL;DR: People may be less inclined to post on Facebook, but they’re still using it to keep up to date with like-minded communities.
2. The Dress highlights a tension in super successful virality
It’s not the first time, and it’s definitely not the last, but a product sold by Zara has gone viral. A white maxi dress with black polka dots, long sleeves, a high neckline and a peplum hem has been bought by a significant portion of British women for the affordable price of £39.99, and the internet is having a ball.
Stylist Faye Oakenfull made it an Instagram –@hot4thespot– and since its creation at the end of May, it’s garnered 10k followers, its feed filled with follower-submitted creepshots of women in the dress in pub gardens, on trains, and in supermarkets. Despite the Instagram’s broadly upbeat tone, there’s a sliver of snark attached to it. “She loves a bottomless brunch, food markets, day festivals, tennis, baby showers (sometimes hers), hen dos, polo, work parties, weddings, rooftop bars and poolside prosecco,” says Oakenfell of the women populating her feed. “Most of all, she just really loves food shopping in Marks & Spencer.”
Why should brands care?
More influence doesn’t always equate to success; there’s a tension to navigate for brands looking to learn from The Dress. The commercialisation of influencers has diminished their authenticity and relatability; one study found that just 4% of people globally trust what influencers say online. As a result, the notion of this many real women wearing a real product in real life is a breath of fresh air for an audience who usually see ‘real women’ complete with narrower-than-average frames, botox, and captions incorporating the #ad hashtag.
But on the other hand, with mass consumption comes basic-ness. Even @hot4thespot, which – with its bio reading ‘a safe space for *the dress*’ – pushes an empowering message for the women who own The Dress, still ultimately highlights the role of a dress so many women seem to own at a time when individualism and self-expression have become core values for Gen Z and Millennial audiences (and older ones, too).
For a fast fashion brand like Zara, this narrative works just fine – in fact, it’s not even the first time one of its dresses has hit peak social engagement. By next year, no doubt there’ll be another. But while a democratic fashion statement may work for them, any brand seeking long-term and culturally relevant engagement with younger audiences may find themselves at a loss by seeking out consumption and coverage on this scale.
TL;DR: While ‘real women’ send the right message for a brand like Zara, too many real women can risk making a brand look basic.
3. Deepfakes are everywhere, and it's freaking everybody out
I recently came across a video called 'Cardi Smith', which is as funny as it is uncanny. It’s a clip from an interview with Cardi B, in which she explains the origins of her name to Jimmy Fallon. Her hair is a big, beautiful bouffant, she’s dressed in a silky jacket with furry sleeves, and she’s gesticulating wildly, hands adorned with her signature outrageous nail extensions. But this video’s charming weirdness isn’t just Cardi. It’s the fact that Will Smith’s face has been superimposed onto hers.
This is my favourite deepfake. It’s up there with videos of babies with Elon Musk’s face and clips from cult movies with Nic Cage as all the characters. But this is exactly the problem. While deepfakes continue to enter my digital world via sources of joy and hilarity, an array of potential dystopias are unfolding elsewhere. YouTubers are visiting summits offering advice on how to prepare for a future in which their image could be manipulated in infinite ways, while politicians are being penalised based on footage that isn't even real. Meanwhile, platforms like Facebook and Youtube struggle to discern best practise for regulating this content. Basically, society is freaking out.
Why should brands care?
As with all emerging technologies destined for greatness, deepfakes were initially put to use via porn. This has been problematic in itself; with the help of user-friendly digital tools, anyone with the willingness to Google around could paste the face of celebrities and classmates alike onto porn actors’ bodies, driven by online communities like the much-maligned/r/deepfakes (which has finally been taken down).
While women like Emma Watson, Scarlett Johansson and Mila Kunis have suffered extensively at the expense of these videos, the fact that deepfakes only cover imagery – and not sound – have meant this was as far as they could go. But over 2019, a series of events have been set in motion that are shifting our understanding of the impact deepfakes could have. Firstly, in March, Trump’s face was imposed onto a sketch of Jimmy Fallon doing an impression of him. It was so accurate, that it spiked concerns over the potential damage deepfakes could do. Then, in May, a doctored video of Nancy Pelosi – slowed to make her look drunk – went viral. Facebook declined to take it down, even when it was confirmed to be fake. And it’s led commentators to raise concerns over the impact deepfakes could have not just to individuals, but on the way we consume information at large.
Misinformation spread via images is nothing new. But what’s disturbing about deepfakes is the diversity of their usage. They’re being used by meme admins to create funny content, by artists to make comments on societal constructs, and by political extremists to feed misinformation.The funniest give us that uncanny feeling popularised by apps and filters like Face Swap, but the freakiest make us question our senses and our understanding of what’s real. And they’re permeating culture at such a speed that we can’t assess or regulate the technology or its impact.
TL;DR: Not all deepfakes are created equal. Their ubiquity means they can be disregarded as inconsequential, but the role they could play in spreading misinformation is huge and important.
Some other interesting internet finds:
‘I suddenly care deeply about Ansel Elgort?’
Unlike the person who wrote this article, I already though Gen Z heartthrob Ansel Elgort was an angel (if you haven’t seen The Fault in Our Stars then go catch up, pal). But the author’s commentary on Ansel’s upload of 17 consecutive mirror selfies – causing his feed to resemble the most shameful portions of any weathered selfie snapper’s camera roll – is both accurate and relatable.
Man Repeller (May 29th)‘Can you actually fix a sink with ramen, like that viral video?’
If you haven’t seen this, go watch it now. Yes, it’s dumb, but it’s also awe-inducing and satisfying in a way that the best online content often is – plus, the spin-offs it’s inspired are truly beautiful. I was pretty gutted when reading this article, as when the video was initially sent to me (by my angel Lily Echanis), it never even occurred to me that it wasn’t real. Yet another example of how fake news is impacting some of the most important corners of culture, I guess.
VICE (May 31st)‘The age of the internet ‘Wife Guy'’
The Wife Guy (another referral from Lily) is a kind of grown-up evolution of the Instagram Boyfriend. According to this article, he “defines himself through a kind of overreaction to being married… He married a woman, and now that is his personality.” Aside from being hilarious – and touching on some of the more problematic elements of the Wife Guy – it highlights that the Wife Guy feels reflective of a wider phenomenon that’s been exacerbated in the wake of social media – the notion of doing *one thing* and that thing becoming your personality, whether that be owning a dog, being a parent or enjoying wine.
The New York Times (June 5th)‘The internet as a microcosm of art movements’
Intellectualising internet trash is my favourite way to pass time, so imagine my joy when my excellent pal (looking @ you Joe Parker) forwarded me this – a kind of framework of thinking that can be applied to pretty much any meme. Plus, there’s something inherently engaging about the public Google Doc as a format; it's raw enough to feel niche, but nerdy enough that the content still feels legit.
Google Drive (Unknown)‘Having 30,000 followers makes you a celebrity, ASA rules’
After a British Instagrammer with 32k followers was penalised for advertising sleep medication on her feed (that’s illegal in the UK), the ASA has ruled that anyone with more than 30k followers should not only follow the same rules as a celebrity, but receive the same punishment if they break them. This will inevitably create polarisation in the influencer space, and it’ll be interesting to see how people who hover around the 30k mark will adapt to these new rules.
The Verge (July 4th)