This year, I made an intentional decision not to renew my membership in any sort of brand ambassadorship programs. I’ve been a member of a handful Big Brand Clubs (let’s call them BBCs) over the years. Some came with fun opportunities and behind the scenes looks. Some came with free product, sometimes hefty discounts, and they all came with contracts. Some, more intimidating than others. Things I had to keep in mind, like:
- You have to share X amount of posts on this platform
- You have to use “specific phrase” when talking about this product
- You cannot make mention of any other XYZ brands if they make items in the same category we do
- You have to post by this date
- We get rights to everything on your account ever
- You commit to showing up to Big Event even though we won’t tell you when it is for months to come
- Your mood should be This, That, and/or the Other Thing
- Make sure you #BBC and @BBC and say “BBC”
I have never applied for BBCs of brands that I didn’t already use constantly. I figured that continuing to make content about my naturally preferred items would’ve been easy. Nope. All it did was make me hyper-aware of everything I was creating.
Was I doing enough? Was I doing it right? This doesn’t sound like something I’d naturally say. What if it doesn’t perform? Am I going to get in trouble? Am I wearing the wrong pants? Can I not tag this video about shoes because the shirt I’m wearing (that I draw 0 attention to) is made by a competitor? Am I a disappointment?
The brain noise got way too loud, and I found myself hardly able to create anything. My posting on social media (and this blog) took a nosedive, because I was constantly worrying that I was going to say or do something I wasn’t supposed to do.
I’ve also discovered that I’m the type of person who immediately gets the ick when you tell me to do the exact thing I was planning on doing on my own. Now, I don’t want to do it. I want to do things because of my own free will, not because someone else told me to… even if they’re the same thing.
Ambassador Programs ≠ Affiliate Programs
I thoroughly enjoyed writing 5 Faves & a Dud because lululemon wasn’t paying me to say anything specific. I remain part of their Creator Network, which is an affiliate link-based model. I have the opportunity to share links to pieces I like, when and because I want to. I don’t receive product that I’m expected to post about. I’m not in slack channels, or sitting on zoom calls with creative briefs and deadlines for specific campaigns. My content creation is at will. I am free to post as much or as little works for my ever-fluctuating bandwidth and creativity.
With these formalized agreements I’d entered into, it was like they now had my number. My content was under scrutiny. I had to measure up. It felt like work… because it WAS work, that I was essentially doing for free stuff, instead of an actual check.
On occasion, I’ll see full-time creators post things like “ambassadorship programs are nothing but free labor,” and… they’re right.
These big brands are recognizing creators with aspirational goals to grow their platform, and perhaps one day make the jump from the cubicle to content creation full time. Granted, that’s not everyone’s MO. There are also extroverted humans who are really just out there to make connections and make new friends for a good time. (I am one of those weird introverts who you think is an extrovert but in reality is really good at hiding in a cave and only comes out for a little bit once I’m feeling nice and ready.) I DIGRESS.
The recognition by a big brand is exciting for a small creator. It fuels that fire, and the freshly minted members of the BBC excitedly hustle for the clicks. They’re happily generating impressions for the brand. As a small-scale creator, it feels GOOD to be tapped as part of a BBC. It is incredibly gratifying to be noticed by the cool kids in the cafeteria, when for so long, you’ve felt invisible.
But as the year wears on, the novelty wears off, and some of them may pause and ask themselves… what am I even doing?
Blind Faith and Limited Bandwidth
It’s fun to feel chosen by one’s favorite brand as an official representative, but content creation has taken a back burner for me in the last few years, for a variety of factors, which I’ve addressed before. (Read: What Happened to my lululemon Content?).
As 2023 drew to a close, I thought that hitching my wagon to one specific brand for so many years was the entire problem, but, a year later I can see that was only part of it.
I started this blog 10 years ago (holy shit I’m old), because I was bored by the other brand-centric content that was out there at the time. All obsessed, all the time. While our main source of fun/doom scrolling has gone from blogs, to Instagram, to TikTok & YouTube, and wherever the hell is next… the message has remained the same. Everyone’s always obsessed with everything. Blind obsession with one brand, and that they can do no wrong.
I personally cannot bring myself to trust creators who are obsessed with every single item a brand puts out. It’s lacking in authenticity.
What about Dudley Do Wrong?
Let’s be honest. All of our favorite brands are prone to producing more than a few duds along the way. I mean, that’s the entire premise this blog was established on. Taking notes and fostering discussions about the good, the bad, and the designs that were a CHOICE.
Choosing one piece per week to absolutely dog on has been my long-running strategy to prove my authenticity to my audience. When I say I like something, it’s because I actually do.
I am not afraid to go on record saying things like:
Grandma called, she’s getting pretty mad that lululemon keeps stealing all the upholstery from her house and turning it into clothing.
She’s not going to have any drapes left on the windows by the time August rolls around.
Some of the product that I was asked to promote as a member of BBCs didn’t always work for me. Maybe the pants didn’t fit right, or the entire outfit wasn’t my style. The shoes were too squishy and made my leg hurt. Some pieces, I genuinely loved. They were the first grabs from every wash cycle. The vast majority of mileage run was in a handful of shoe models. I happily yammered about that stuff. Other items, I would never have purchased for myself.
I cannot feign enthusiasm for EVERYTHING. I felt that it was expected of me, even if I didn’t love the product in question. If I didn’t have anything good to say, I was afraid to say anything at all. Yet, I was expected to say something, using specific language, on a specific medium, by a specific date. I felt trapped.
So yeah. I decided that this year… no signing on any dotted lines. I like creating content because I get to say what I want, when I want. I got the thrill of being in the cool kids club for a little bit, but at the end of the year, I’ve come to the realization that my content and I are better off in free agency.
