I Really Don't Care About Your Butter Yellow Dress

How the imbalance of our media ecosystem is harming everyone involved

As I watched a 20-something influencer on my screen rant fervently about butter yellow being the color of the summer, a realization dawned on me:

We are getting overly opinionated about the wrong things.

In this particular video, a young woman spoke at length —earnestly, urgently, even— about how one needs this butter yellow dress, and how to best accent with butter yellow glasses, or a pop of butter yellow shoes, or a butter yellow clutch bag.

A scroll away, another young influencer was just as passionate—only this time to proclaim that butter yellow is not the color of the season, and that no one should give a damn about butter yellow, and that it is, in fact, a hideous color, and anyone who buys into the trend is a stupid b****. (I am, of course, paraphrasing in hyperbole. Am I a real author yet?)

For those unfamiliar with the shade, see Vouge’s How to Style Butter Yellow—The Shade We’re Melting for This Spring for a breakdown. Or take my word for it.

Let me be clear: I am not trying to yuck on anyone’s yum. I actually don’t mind the color. The butter yellow trend is just one in a recent deluge of micro-trends, macro-trends, coastal-grandmother-aesthetic-trends, and whatever else the algorithm has decided we need this week. My criticism isn’t limited to fashion, or to young, female influencers. I appreciate fashion (please don’t use my own personal style to interrogate this claim). I hop on many a trend. I consume en masse—both in content and in clothing. I scroll for hours. I am not innocent in this game.

The criticism applies more generally. The delivery is always urgent, eye-catching, and breathless. The subject? Whether or not to buy a 5th Stanley cup, or if sideparts are acceptable to wear again. Gym bros yelling on podcasts about creatine and protein intake. Truecrime heads dissecting the latest (very disturbing and deeply personal) 911 call with forensic-level passion. TikTokers using the vocabulary of activism to debate the moral integrity of iced coffee orders.

I know this is part of a bigger issue. I won’t be able to cover all that here. So I return again to my claim: that we are getting too opinionated about the wrong things. Maybe “wrong” isn’t the best way to put it. But definitely not the things that deserve more opinions, or stronger ones.

Again, to be clear: I am not trying to say people shouldn’t or can’t get excited about things they love and share that excitement. People should do that! It is so important to appreciate, enjoy, and love things, and to share that deep appreciation with others. Nor am I trying to say that people should only like what I like, because only my passions are acceptable; or that my echochamber is better or more superior than yours. I am also not asking every single influencer video to be a serious sitdown about the state of the union or downfall of democracy. That wouldn’t be much fun for anyone. So now that we have the caveats out of the way, what am I trying to say?

Today, I am choosing to argue this: The imbalance of our media ecosystem is harming everyone involved. All of these fast-paced trends and viral-for-the-wrong-reason TikToks fail to give the same energy and passion to real issues.

Real is a hard choice of word here, but deliberate. By real, I mean: Real suffering. Real issues. Real needs.

We have developed an algorithm-optimized, hyper-efficient ability to argue about almost anything—so long as it stays on the surface. We’ve become armchair experts in minutes, armed with two TikToks and a podcast clip, ready to go to battle over the latest celebrity scandal. We scream about Stanley cup colors while ignoring genocide. We can recite every detail of the JonBenét Ramsey case, yet we’re oblivious to the recent executive orders that halted U.S. student visa appointments at embassies across the globe. Our knowledge is wide but shallow—carefully cultivated by an internet that rewards outrage instead of understanding.

We have lost—or perhaps have never found—the endurance and the passion to apply those same argumentative skills to more pressing, more nuanced, and far heavier topics. I understand that for many individuals, influencer or not, the task could seem daunting.

One may not feel informed enough to produce content covering the final release of 5 aid trucks into Gaza, (only three of which contained food, it is reported the other two carried shrouds for covering the dead), after withholding any aid for over three months, with dozens more trucks still stuck at the border, denied entry by Israel. One may not have time to read through Trump’s Big Beautiful Horrific Dehumanizing Bill that will slash food assistance for single parents, shift the burden of care onto already-struggling states, and drastically change student loan borrowing, payback, and eligibility—making college less affordable and debt harder to manage for millions.

I get that there is too much Bad News to consume it all the time. I am not asking people to be 100% in the know all the time with 100% of world issues. Instead, I think a better solution would be to sprinkle it into the content being produced. For content producers, this could mean a few things. For example: talk about how annoying it is that Trump’s new tariffs are going to drive up costs for your new butter yellow dress small business. Mention how your aunt just lost access to food stamps because of policy changes no one’s talking about. Make a video where you do your skincare routine GRWM and explain how your state legislature is gutting tenant protections. Write a Substack about love and Flannery O’Connor one week and then the next week one about how we’re getting too caught up in the easy, light stuff. I am not asking influencers to become a think tank overnight, but I do wish we would all stop pretending this stuff isn’t happening.

And, as consumers of media, what can we do? Perhaps we can start with a more mindful approach to media consumption.

I don’t think we necessarily need to cut back on enjoying the lighter trends (at least not yet). They have their place—and in times like these, the fluff can matter just as much as the heavy, serious stuff. It offers levity, connection, and sometimes even relief. That said, we can also choose to share and amplify stories about real issues alongside the fluff. The problem isn’t that we enjoy light content—it’s that our current media ecosystem is wildly unbalanced. We can and should engage with content that challenges us, that informs and empowers us. By doing so, we can make space for both: joy and justice, entertainment and awareness. When we strike that balance, we re-engage as active participants in shaping culture instead of being passive consumers of it.

In other words: buy that butter yellow dress and fact check the influencer claiming raw milk is good! We can add depth without subtracting fun! (But please expect my piece on hedonism and the value of sometimes taking away fun in the coming weeks).

I think it can also mean holding influencers accountable. Influencers have enormous, far reaching platforms. Their videos are seen by millions- good or bad. Take running influencer Kate Mackz's Interview with Karoline Leavitt, for example. Kate made a deal with the devil, and her followers called her out. Imagine what the world would look like if that happened more. Or if influencers regularly faced honest pushback when they glossed over or normalized harmful politics.

At the end of the day, it all goes back to paying attention (Mary Oliver was on to something there). Pay attention to what you consume, to what you get passionate about, to what you ignore. Pay attention to the little joys and the big griefs.

And, the next time you’re deciding whether butter yellow is the color of the summer, maybe also pause to consider—what colors are the real issues hiding behind the scenes? What shades belong to the crises unfolding quietly this season, demanding attention beyond the trends?

In my butter yellow best,

Clare

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Invitation- Mary Oliver

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air

as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude –
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing

just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you,

do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.

Mary Oliver, “Invitation,” A Thousand Mornings (New York: Penguin Books, 2013).

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I do not have time to compile a full list of influencers I think do a wonderful job at balancing politics and play, so below I will leave my top two, who also happen to have wonderful substacks!

Kate Glavan (@kateglavan on insta and tiktok,

kate glavan

/ GenZ Gov on substack)

Margaret of BadArtEveryday (@badarteveryday on Substack and insta, co-host of How to be Patient Pod)

Cover art: CollageBarbara Konki

©️ Clare Culver 2025