There is a peculiar confidence in advertising circles – a confidence that brings people together in boardrooms to flip through lengthy PowerPoint decks and decide the fastest way to sell anything – from shampoo to insurance, snacks to financial apps – is to bring in a celebrity, as if they’re a fridge magnet. The pitch includes impressive terms: brand recall, aspirational association, equity transfer, mass visibility, and halo effect. In the meeting, these terms sound so convincing that nobody asks the most dangerous question in advertising: “But does this make any sense?”
Because if you pause for just a second and think about it the way a normal human being would, the entire system begins to look like a very expensive comedy show.
Take the classic formula. A superstar appears on screen, holding a product meant for everyday middle-class households. This is the same superstar whose shoes likely cost more than ten families’ monthly grocery budgets, whose watch could fund a small wedding, whose house is bigger than the municipal library, and whose bottled water probably flies business class more than most people. Yet, in that magical thirty-second commercial, we are expected to believe this person has discovered the secret to life in a product priced for the average buyer.
It is a beautiful performance.
The ad plays. Background music rises like a patriotic anthem. The celebrity smiles, calm and confident, certain the nation will believe him. He holds up a bottle, a scooter, or even innerwear with the authority of someone who has used it since the Harappan civilisation. In a marketing office, people nod with satisfaction as if they have solved climate change.
But the real fun begins when you imagine the celebrity’s actual daily life.
Picture this: a mansion with staff, drivers, assistants, managers, stylists, nutritionists and someone whose job is probably to arrange cushions at the correct emotional angle. And then imagine that same person rushing into the bathroom because the hair oil advertisement promised “instant cooling relief.” Or sitting late at night after a film shoot, logging into an online course, carefully submitting assignments before midnight because learning never stops. Or dialling a customer helpline and politely saying, “Hello, I need the numbers of people who want to offer me more endorsements.” Or stepping out of a luxury garage filled with vehicles that look like they belong in a billionaire’s toy collection and deciding, “You know what, today I will take the practical commuter scooter.”
This is not advertising. This is theatre. And yet, for decades, it worked.
In the old days, there were fewer brands and fewer channels. There was almost no way to peek behind the curtain. Celebrities stayed on a pedestal so high they needed oxygen cylinders. If they called a soap magical, the public nodded respectfully. People said, “Well, if the stars use it, it must be good.” Advertisements then were like mythological stories. They were slightly unbelievable but enjoyable, so nobody complained.
Then the internet arrived and ruined everything.
Suddenly, consumers could see everything. What celebrities wear at airports. What they eat. What they promote and drink. What they drive. Which island do they vacation on? Sometimes, it’s the brand they endorsed last month, only to switch to its competitor this month. The pedestal cracked. The curtain fell. The magician’s rabbit hopped away.
And this shift changed everything. For the first time, the celebrity illusion cracked, and consumers began to question whether celebrity endorsements actually made sense.
This is extremely inconvenient for advertising.
Once the consumer starts thinking, awkward questions follow: If this person lives where breakfast is in five-star hotels and vacations are on yachts, why does he use the same deodorant as my security guard? When a commercial says fragrance is the secret behind someone’s amazing success, the viewer wonders – did decades of hard work, ambition, networking, strategy and talent all get replaced by a spray can?
The funniest part is that many of the people creating these campaigns were once the same consumers. They, too, grew up watching dramatic ads with wind machines and heroic background music. They, too, once believed the shampoo made hair look like waterfalls. They too bought things because a famous face said so. And now, years later, they sit in conference rooms, wearing expensive sneakers, discussing “consumer psychology” while secretly hoping the audience has not grown wiser. But the audience has.
Not angry. Not rebellious. Just quietly smarter.
Today’s middle-class consumer is like that friend at a wedding buffet who smiles at the dessert display but goes back to the dish he likes. He watches the ad, enjoys the music, maybe laughs at the claim – but decides based on something simpler: price, usefulness, trust, and experience.
Now, influence in buying decisions has shifted away from celebrities. Authentic everyday people – a fitness trainer, a home cook, a farmer, a tech enthusiast – hold the real power. Their relatability, not fame, compels trust and drives decisions.
That is the strange power of relatability.
When someone who looks like you recommends something, it feels less like advertising. It feels more like advice.
And that brings us to the quiet punchline and core lesson of this entire circus.
For years, advertising assumed credibility could be rented from celebrities. But credibility isn’t about fame; it is earned through relatability and relevance – something authentic voices are proving every day.
The modern consumer still enjoys celebrities but isn’t swayed by them alone. He makes decisions like an accountant, relying on relevance and trust over star power.
The Consumer listens.
The Consumer compares.
The Consumer smiles politely at the advertisement.
And then he trusts the person who looks most like himself.
Which, if you think about it, is both the funniest and the most humbling truth: consumers, not celebrities, now hold the real power in advertising.
Because after spending crores on celebrities, marketing finally discovered the most powerful brand ambassador of all time.
THE CONSUMER!
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