I've decided I can't sit through an entire Lizzy vlog anymore. I don't know what kind of people all of her viewers are who comment how much they love them; apparently, they don't have more important things to do in their lives than watch a rich, entitled girl get richer.
Lizzy said she no longer wants to show relationships on her Youtube. It seems more like she no longer wishes to show anything, really. Her interest in vlogging left the station ages ago. Except, of course, when it comes to showing off this month's Arket freebies. Or some wildly expensive gifted jumper or somesuch. Didn't she have a brief obsession with green last year, and bought a few hideous traffic-sign-green t-shirts and sweaters back then? Does she even get pleasure anymore from acquiring new tit every month in order to satisfy her contracts?
Indulge me in a story.
I imagine hell for influencers is being sat at a lavish banquet (sponsored by Dior), surrounded by lush flower arrangements, orange wine, and the most flattering candlelight that gently glints off their #mejuri jewelry. Just as everyone finishes tagging themselves and their friends on their IG posts, the waiter comes by with a covered dish, out of which wafts the most heavenly aroma. He sets the dish in front of a guest, whose eyes widen with greed and anticipation, and removes the cover to reveal a steaming navy jumper. The poor girls are commanded to eat the jumpers, and quickly, because there's another hot jumper coming up after that and the chef would hate for it to get cold. The influencer turns her head to see a line of silver carts all holding covered dishes, stretching on for eternity. The dining hall fills with the clatter of forks and knives and belabored chewing. After finishing one navy jumper, the next course commences. At one point, when the girls' stomachs are full to bursting with soggy wool, tiny fibers scratching their throats and stuck in their teeth, they plead for mercy. "Please!" they cry, "There's no way in the world someone can eat all these jumpers! And they're all the same! Couldn't we just eat a sensible number, like one or two, perhaps three for special occasions?" In response, the waiters cart out an enormous charcuterie platter piled high with jeans, and the influencers must consume that as well. On and on for eternity, the end. (Can you guess I've been watching way too much Squid Game?)
