'Health is Wealth' is Being Taken Too Literally
A critique of wellness trends, influencers, and $22 Erewhon smoothies
This month, ‘Euphoria’ actress Sydney Sweeney launched her own smoothie in collaboration with Erewhon, priced at a reasonable $22. Following in the footsteps of her LA peers, the Erewhon celebrity smoothie is a rite of passage for anyone who’s anyone. Think Bella Hadid, Kendall Jenner, Sabrina Carpenter, Tyla… the list goes on. If you live in LA and haven’t got your name on an overpriced blend of spirulina and whey protein, who even are you?
Upon each release, influencers swarm to their nearest Erewhon to spend their month’s wage on these smoothies, rarely revisiting for the same product. Whilst the price tag is alarming, the use of celebrity endorsements is actually quite clever. Tourists will often visit Erewhon for the sole purpose of testing the quality of the product - to see if it aligns with the hefty price tag. And nine times out of ten, it does not. That is, unless you’ve got over a million followers and a White Fox discount code.
The truth is, the richer you are, the more likely you are to promote a product of this absurdity. No smoothie is worth $22. The ingredients of a higher value provide health benefits of no one’s interest, and I can guarantee you can make something far tastier at home yourself. But nobody’s purchasing these smoothies for the fibre or the antioxidants. People are more likely to cash in on the wellness trend because being healthy means being skinny, and being skinny means being perfect. The ongoing discourse surrounding Ozempic and the ‘skinny epidemic’ of Hollywood has only been worsened by this narrative.
When we see real-life Barbie endorsing her new smoothie, it tricks you into thinking that $22 is going to give you glowing skin and a tiny waist like hers. But it’s actually dehumanising the audience, because when these A-Listers are asked to make the smoothie from scratch in order to promote it, their eyes light up at the sight of a blender. They want to be the face of luxury - and that is now wellness. But the illusion fades when we see them struggle to pronounce the ingredients.
Anyone with a daily screen time of 5+ hours is likely to be familiar with Alo Gym. It’s a luxury, invite-only gym owned by fitness clothing brand Alo, and it’s heavily associated with LA influencer culture - particularly those who eat at Erewhon. Podcaster Jake Shane, admired globally for his wholesome charisma, has become the face of Alo Gym following his recent fitness transformation. Endorsing an invite-only, high-profile gym in order to flaunt your new physique is hardly inspiring your fanbase to make healthy changes for themselves. Having access to these facilities, which allow you to stay consistent with your goals, is not realistic for the majority of people. Whilst a lot of people can find the time and money to go to the gym outside their 9-5, Alo is not trying to woo the general public. And neither is Erewhon.
Wellness is becoming a status symbol, and the lifestyle you are being sold is only perpetuating this ideology that health is wealth… except, this time, it’s literal. All of these influencers are jumping onto the fitness bandwagon, drinking matcha and doing Pilates, but do they even understand the benefits? Every week, it’s a different trend - first it was high-protein meals, now it’s high-fibre. It all links back to beauty standards; that’s why we have Sydney Sweeney promoting her new smoothie. First, influencers realised that protein would define their glutes, but then they remembered that, in order to lose weight, they’d need to shit more, and laxatives are soooo 2016.
‘Glow-up’ culture has shifted through various beauty standards and societal expectations over the years. Before, it was fake tan, hair extensions and Hailey Bieber nails, but now it’s sea moss, kombucha and B-12. Sexy, right? The idea that beauty comes from within, and you should be ‘eating’ your skincare, is ironic when you’re being sold a product by someone with chin filler and BBL allegations. Wellbeing means something far more shallow to the socialites of LA; it’s a symbol of privilege. Those working a mundane 9-5 aren’t likely to remedy their stress with a chamomile tea.
What we need to remember is that most of these influencers will have their own nutritionists, private chefs, personal trainers and a ridiculous amount of money. They can pretend to be super health-oriented in order to sell a product to their fans, but do they even know what they’re selling? If Kendall Jenner wants us to buy her $22 fibre-maxing smoothie, she can at least act like she knows how to use a blender.