Your Favourite Influencer Might Be in Your Group Chat

You don’t need a blue tick to be inspiring. In fact, the most quietly powerful people online might be the ones with private accounts, blurry stories, and no interest in chasing clout. As we shift from aesthetics to authenticity, a new kind of influence is emerging — rooted not in reach, but in resonance.

Influence Isn’t About Reach — It’s About Resonance

We’re used to thinking of influencers as shiny, popular figures — people with big followings, curated aesthetics, and camera-ready lives. And sure, some of them still inspire. (I personally love Haley Hoffman Smith and her dreamy, self-development content.) But lately, when I scroll past highly produced, viral videos, it all starts to feel a bit… performative. Like the world is a stage, and everyone’s playing a role.

Sometimes it even has that mean girl vibe, like everyone’s elbowing for relevance. When that happens, I find myself craving something softer, smaller, and real. And I’m finding it — not from big-name influencers, but from the people already in my life.

And I’m not alone. A recent Edelman study found that 63% of Gen Z see frequent brand users — not celebrities — as credible spokespeople. We trust the people who show up as themselves. The ones who reflect how we want to live.

Academic research supports this, too. A 2009 study in the Journal of Health Communication found that meaningful content from social networks enhances our sense of well-being and belonging. So when your friend posts something that genuinely moves you — it’s not trivial. It’s deeply human.

Even Vogue Business recently reported that Gen Z has "broken" the traditional marketing funnel, shifting influence away from prestige and toward shared values, trust, and relatability. Influence today doesn’t trickle down from icons. It grows laterally — through community.

The Girl Next Door, Reimagined

In some ways, this shift links back to a familiar archetype: the girl next door. In film and pop culture, she was always the quietly magnetic one. Not flashy, not iconic — but real. Approachable. The kind of presence that stays with you.

Today, she’s evolved. She’s the softly spoken creative with a private Instagram account. The friend who romanticises her mornings, shares her pottery experiments, or captures a blurry dolphin sighting on holiday. She’s the kind of presence that grounds you, instead of impressing you. And she might just be your friend.

She’s not trying to build a brand. She’s not performing. But she still makes you want to live more fully.

That’s influence, too. And maybe it’s time we recognised it for what it is: gentle leadership.

Private Accounts, Public Impact

One of my favourite creators right now? A friend-of-a-friend who recently started a private Instagram account. She wanted a place to share the beautiful bits of her life — without worrying about judgment or likes. I felt genuinely honoured when she let me follow her.

She recently posted a video from her holiday in Portugal: dolphins leaping out of the sea. In the background, her long-term boyfriend’s voice says, “They’re over there, look,” and you hear her softly cracked reply: “Yeah,” followed by an audible gasp of awe. The writing on her story reads: "Seeing dolphins on the last day of our holiday has actually made my life, best week away with my family 💙🐬"

Later, she told me the story behind it — how just days before, she’d asked a local waitress if she’d ever seen dolphins from the shore. “Nope, never,” the waitress said. So she wrote it off. Then, on their final morning, she joked again about never having seen one — and seconds later, her boyfriend pointed to the sea. There they were.

Following her dolphin video, she shared a story saying, "My tulips came out whilst we were away 🥹 In need of a spring revamp though! ..." followed by a mini-photo shoot of her little flower set-up: soft spring light, decorated Easter pots, and the quiet satisfaction of a homecoming.

That, to me, is influence. It made me feel something. It softened my pace. It reminded me of what matters.

The Quiet Internet

There’s a growing movement online toward smaller, more emotionally honest spaces. Places where we can post without polish. Share without strategy. Create without chasing visibility.

Private accounts. Close Friends lists. One-second-a-day diaries shared with a handful of people. These quiet corners of the internet aren’t just cozy — they’re powerful. They’re where nuance lives. Where we stop performing and start showing up.

When we spend time here, something shifts. We scroll slower. We reflect more. We feel connected, not because someone is performing for us, but because they’re sharing something that feels familiar. And that kind of resonance is hard to fake.

A Different Kind of Comparison

We often hear, "Don't compare yourself to others online." But what if the right kind of comparison can be good for us?

When I watch that monthly 1-second-a-day reel from a friend, I don’t feel envy. I feel inspired. I feel happy she’s living a vibrant life — and curious about how I might do the same. That kind of comparison doesn’t say, I need to keep up. It says, Maybe I could live more fully, too.

It’s not always about the big, bold declarations. Sometimes, it’s the soft things that stay with us: a garden update. A shared recipe. A dolphin in the surf.

When You Feel Behind

Sometimes, we look at other people’s lives and feel like we’re falling behind. Like everyone else is winning. But maybe we’re already living a beautiful life — we just haven’t recognised it in ourselves yet.

Think about the quiet creators in your world. The ones who make you feel seen. The ones who post just for the joy of it. The ones whose presence shifts something in you, without even trying.

The truth? The most inspiring people might not have a following. They might not even call themselves creators. But they’re out there — blooming tulips, spotting dolphins, living well.

They’re not icons. They’re invitations.
They’re not performing. They’re leading quietly.
They’re the girls next door.

And if we stop chasing the stage, we might just find them standing quietly beside us.