Last week, Clapham-based lifestyle website SheerLuxe made a big splash by announcing its new fashion editor, Reem. New roles are rare in this field. In reality, fashion editors are an endangered and rapidly dwindling species; there are only a handful left in London. If you want a job, you’re basically waiting for someone to die or have a baby, so a new comrade always attracts attention. Reem arrived with a splashy announcement in an industry directory, a flashy Instagram post and an exclusive introductory interview feature. Wow, Reem must be really special, I thought; it’s strange I’d never heard of her before.
Oh, wait, sad plot twist. Despite the sexy shots in her bag, her “go-to” lunch salad, and her shiny new headshot, Reem is actually a “new AI-powered team member powered by SheerLuxe.” So what! Is the SheerLuxe community excited about this new staff robot, ready to dish out all sorts of fashion and beauty advice? Encouragingly for us real-life fashion editors, no. The brand was so harassed on its social media channel that the entire office had a “duvet day” the next day to “relax, relax, and maybe stay in bed,” presumably using that time to issue a heartfelt apology that was published over three slides in a follow-up Instagram post.
Fake staff are probably much easier to manage, fire and deny salary increases
You might sympathize with the brave HR manager, because her imaginary staff would probably be much easier to manage, fire, and deny raises. Virtual women don’t complain about weird things like the gender pay gap and diversity hiring; there’s no need to spend money on maternity leave or make her feel like a failure because she left at 5pm to pick up her kid from school. Reem doesn’t do anything reckless like compromise the quality of her OOTD (outfit of the day!) look by gaining weight, getting acne, or having a weird hair day; she doesn’t make a fuss about her seat, hotel room, or expenses at Fashion Week because—lol!—she won’t be there. You can see how this could seem like a win-win, and I don’t mind Cyranos feeding her lines at all.
Still, if I may be picky, despite her ability to conjure up all sorts of women, Reem’s imitation of a mysterious dullness seems incredibly dull. She’s young, beautiful but not threateningly so, thin (because why would you make a fake person plump?), has perfectly blow-dried, shiny hair, and “no makeup” makeup. She rambles on about brand names, products, and trendy restaurants, and spews mind-numbingly banal sentences like, “Despite my love of maximalist designers, I actually think it’s worth investing in some heritage brands that are a legacy of beautiful craftsmanship.” She’s got a skincare routine (“I swear by retinol”) and recommendations for injectables, because what fake woman wouldn’t enforce impossible manufactured beauty standards? Pseudo-intelligence has never felt so artificial.
Reem herself is (we’re told) the brainchild of a Middle Eastern “AI image creator.” To be fair to the Frankenstein-masters, virtual influencers are nothing new. In the gaming world, they’re a booming spin-off industry. As long as users believe in their supposed authenticity, no one seems to care. Lil Miquela, a Los Angeles studio mix, has 2.5 million followers on Instagram and has “worked” with Prada, Dior and Calvin Klein. She’s a marketer’s dream because she’s completely malleable. No tantrums or crazy demands, no annoying political outbursts or commitments, no aging.
Virtual influencers are a marketer’s dream. No tantrums or crazy demands, no annoying political outbursts or commitments, no aging
Over the weekend, Adidas was forced to apologize and pull its SL72 sneaker campaign featuring outspoken half-Palestinian model Bella Hadid after Israeli and Jewish groups objected. The sneakers are a recreation of a shoe from the 1972 Munich Olympics, when 11 Israeli athletes were kidnapped and killed by the Palestinian terror group Black September. There are rumors that Hadid is considering legal action against the German sports giant. After the short-sighted, self-inflicted fury, you can imagine the brand wishing it had taken a more misleading tack on its casting.
Maybe SheerLuxe is ahead of its time, and its audience isn’t yet ready for the joys of Reem’s favorite mini-holiday destinations (“I’m loving Scotland right now”). Or maybe nitpicking about clothes can be a valuable people skill. In the words of Marty McFly, “your kids will love it.” Shudder, etc.
Victoria Moss is fashion director of the Evening Standard and ES magazine