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ITV’s staple reality series drew just 600,000 viewers for its first episode this year, the lowest in its decade history. Amidst format fatigue and waning relevance, is it possible that Gen Z (and, to some extent, Gen Alpha) has largely abandoned the superficial, picture-perfect aesthetic of the traditional influencer?
Love Island, ITV’s long-running reality TV series, has seen a steady decline in ratings and audience retention over the past few years.
Overnight figures for 2026’s debut episode in the UK clocked in at only 600,000 viewers, making it the lowest and least-watched in the show’s history (not counting the spinoff All Stars series). Even with consolidated viewing figures, the show reached 2.1 million viewers, down by over a third from its 2019 peak of 3.3 million. The show is no longer a mainstream cultural event like it once was, and though we have the World Cup to distract us this year, it’s hard to deny that audiences clearly aren’t as hungry for Love Island’s dating shenanigans as they once were.
What gives? Format fatigue is an obvious factor; the show has been running for over a decade. It paved the way for countless imitators and dating-adjacent shows that mix islands, love, and challenges in marginally different or absurd ways (Dating Naked UK, anyone?). The market is saturated and starting to show its age, particularly as its original audience of older Gen Zers has grown up and largely moved on. They’re more concerned with houses and careers than tuning into a dating show each week.
Love Island has also faced scrutiny over the years regarding the health of its contestants. Two former participants and one presenter have committed suicide during the show’s run, prompting serious questions over the care and support that ITV provides. In many ways, the show mirrors the extremes of modern online culture: our obsession with perfect appearances, public vulnerability, and the constant cycle of social media criticism. It is a microcosm of our current era, for better or worse, and promises to offer blossoming brand deals and millions of followers to its most popular participants.
It’s this deeply entrenched relationship with influencer culture that might be turning Gen Z off.
Data suggests that young people are beginning to move away from the tried-and-true influencer model of the late 2010s and early 2020s. The idea of being an absolutely perfect, materialistic heart throb has started to lose some of its appeal, particularly as Gen Z faces the realities of adulthood and the intense pressures of real-world work. From abandoning career ladders to laughing at Steven Bartlett’s regretful wine tasting, there is a growing sense that authenticity is more valuable and rewarding than trying to curate an ideal version of yourself that is deeply tied to commercialised aesthetics and social pressures.
Don’t get us wrong, though, Gen Z still wants to be influencers. In fact, a 2023 study by decision intelligence company Morning Consult found that 57% of Gen Zers in the US would be influencers if given the chance. This is more than other age groups and suggests that the online creator model still has legs. It’s not that Gen Z are walking away from their screens and completely abandoning the format that Love Island helped to accelerate into the mainstream. Instead, they’re looking to reinvent how they connect with large audiences by presenting themselves more truthfully and embracing the messy complications of being human.
What does that mean, in real terms? You may have noticed a recent trend called #deinfluencing on TikTok and Instagram, which sees creators telling their viewers what not to buy and who to avoid following online. It began largely as a response to overconsumption and constant brand deals, both of which Gen Z is guilty of falling prey to. In the past year, it’s estimated that 72% of young people have bought fast fashion items, with one study finding that almost half of all 16 to 24-year-olds wear mostly cheap, poorly durable clothes. Deinfluencing is an attempt to reshape what online ‘influence’ really means, and is an honest pushback on Gen Z’s impulse purchasing.
By that same token, faceless influencers have seen a surge in growth over the past few years. This is exactly what it sounds like. Creators are producing content, whether it be commentary videos, gameplay streams, factual lists, or side hustle tips, without showing themselves on camera. This means that audiences follow a creator for their content exclusively, rather than for looks. It’s an obvious push for substance over style, and a clear inverse of the standard formula. It’s also much easier to do consistently and takes pressure off the usual pitfalls like fame, unwanted attention, and undue criticism that focuses on appearances. In our short-form era, a quick hook and efficient video are thriving.
Gen Z grew up with the traditional influencer model and has seen how artificial and damaging it can be. Love Island’s steady decline is partly evidence to suggest that we might be moving away from the flashy, materialistic ideals of the 2010s. At the very least, young people are exploring new, novel ways to redefine online creation and audience retention. Genuine emotion and honesty are starting to dwarf the pretence of yesteryear, leaving the floor wide open for fresh perspectives and new styles of content. That feels exciting. Perhaps the best is yet to come.
See also:
- The UK shuts down social media for under 16s…what could go wrong?
- Why Gen Z is rejecting perfection (and Steven Bartlett)
- If Gen Z drinks less, why are Buzzballz booming?
