A New Era of Advertising: When Ads Wear Pyjamas
- Krešimir Sočković
- 6 days ago
- 3 min read
Traditional advertising models—TV commercials, billboards, flyers—are slowly fading into the background. Instead of direct “Buy now!” messages, brands today choose something more sophisticated: communication through influencers. At first glance, it looks like just an ordinary person from the internet “sharing advice,” but behind the scenes it’s a finely tuned advertising machine. The key? Emotional suggestion, natural aesthetics, and—of course—the barely visible #sponsored tag.

The communication mechanism: a personal story, a paid script
The greatest power of influencer marketing lies in the impression of honesty. Influencers often share content that looks like a diary: “Here’s what I eat when I’m sad,” “This helped me with insomnia,” “How I overcame anxiety—and also found the best concealer for dark circles.” The content is shaped to mimic a friendly conversation, with the product stepping into the story as the savior.
An example? A well-known regional influencer shared a story: “I was really struggling, anxiety was killing me… And then I discovered this meditation app.” After the story hit 20,000 views and 5,000 clicks, the brand rushed to renew the partnership. Therapy? Maybe. Paid content? Definitely.
Visual rhetoric: as natural as posing with a matcha latté
Unlike traditional ads that scream “sales pitch!”, influencer content communicates differently. By using warm tones, candid-looking shots, “morning routines,” and frames with kids, pets, or messy beds—they build a sense of intimacy. Everything looks unplanned, even though there’s often a whole team adjusting lighting, props, and camera angles.
In one beauty campaign, an influencer “spontaneously” showed how she uses a serum, adding: “Honestly, I didn’t expect it to work this well.” The truth? The serum arrived in a PR package along with posting instructions, a story schedule, and pre-agreed hashtags.
Emotions as currency
Since users are increasingly ignoring traditional ads (ad blockers, YouTube skips, content fatigue), marketing teams have decided to play the emotion card. This is where communication psychology steps in: if we connect with someone who seems vulnerable, likable, and “just like us,” we’re far more likely to accept their suggestion.
A great example is a YouTube video where an influencer talks about failing in college, social pressure, and insomnia—and then, “by chance,” mentions the tea that helps him relax. Order link? In the description. Discount code? Of course, personalized. The result? A perfectly targeted sale without ever saying the word “advertisement.”
Who’s playing—and why?
In this communication game, every participant has their role and motivation. Influencers earn—and quite a lot. Micro-influencers with 50,000 followers can get anywhere from €500 to €5,000 per post, while mega-profiles rake in amounts that would embarrass a parliament member’s annual salary. Platforms like TikTok and Instagram profit because users spend more time on attractive (and often sponsored) content. Agencies charge for consulting, matchmaking, and campaign management. Brands gain a personalized channel that can boost sales at a lower cost than TV campaigns. The only one not earning in this communication chain is the consumer. They give their attention, trust, time, and money—often convinced they’re “just watching content,” while in fact they’re the target of a carefully constructed message.
The trust crisis: the thin line between real and sold
As the number of influencers grows and content becomes more alike, audiences are slowly developing resistance. Studies show that some users no longer believe even genuine recommendations—because it’s hard to tell where personal experience ends and the sales pitch begins.
One well-known fitness influencer, for example, shared sponsored posts for three different protein bar brands—all within a single month. Each one was “the best ever.” Audience trust? Sunk. Campaign budget? Spent.
Where’s the line?
Influencer marketing isn’t inherently bad. The problem arises when authenticity is faked, when sponsored posts aren’t clearly labeled, and when communication manipulates emotions without accountability. Good content can be both paid and honest—but only if it’s transparent.
If an influencer says, “This is sponsored, but I really use this product and stand behind it,” that’s fair communication. Everything else is a staged performance disguised as intimacy. The issue isn’t promotion itself, but the hidden influence that borrows the language of everyday life to deliver a marketing message.
When communication forgets it’s communication—it stops being dialogue
At its best, influencer marketing was meant to be a bridge between brand and audience, built on trust. In reality, it often becomes a monologue in someone else’s voice. Messages that seem spontaneous, personal, and emotional are actually crafted to persuade—and that’s precisely what makes them so powerful, but also so problematic.
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