On March 18, an Instagram influencer with a husband, two kids, and 1.3 million followers said she tested positive for COVID-19. Everything she did from there caused an uproar. She’s since issued a lengthy apology that’s more of an explanation, in video and written form, but her partnerships, and her livelihood, remain at risk.

In the beginning, say circa 2009, when a subset of bloggers made their private lives public, this person—Arielle Charnas of Something Navy—was among them. Overwhelmingly comprised of women, the group generated scenes of domestic aspiration that mixed or specialized in fashion, design, parenting, fitness, and “wellness.” Eventually, this subset graduated to Instagram and YouTube and whatever else, and were dubbed “influencers.” They were paid in sponsorships, discounts, and other perks from lifestyle brands. Throughout, their message stayed largely the same: mirror our lives and yours can be cleaner, more beautiful, enhanced versions of the ones you already have.

Now, after full days of toggling between global death rates and national death rates and illness in one’s own community, it’s hard to kick back and consume a little mindless fare—or maybe that’s not quite right. A mindless escape is useful right now. We do need something that can alleviate the twin burden of fear and grief, and our collective Netflix burn-through rate suggests that’s basically true. It’s just that while influencer content can be mindless, it’s now less of an escape than ever. Faced with a pandemic that has already done away with life as we know it, whatever inspiration influencers offered will no longer cut it. We’re all a little too spent to aspire to anything except making it through.

Even before the coronavirus crisis, there were some signs that the format was fraying around the edges. The very word “influencer” suggests that they have the ability to sway people, despite said people’s best efforts. The best in game are able to suggest products through sponsored posts, thanks to their perceived “authenticity,” a word that means “real,” but in this context means presenting a genuine-feeling personality on the feed. The more authentic, the more highly compensated, the more followers probably wonder what these people are actually like. Giving into influence can feel shameful, too, but doubly so if one bought poop tea in 2016 because a minor Kardashian said they did. Even as Instagram’s highly stylized, clean aesthetic shifted to a highly stylized, messy, dark, and more confessional aesthetic, the influencer economy still relied on its audience literally liking whatever they served up on their feed. If people got tired of being sold to under the guise of authenticity, the jig, it would seem, was up.

Now authenticity is colliding terribly with a lack of self-awareness in the face of crisis. The most flagrant version made the rounds on Tuesday due to a Twitter thread. A few weeks ago, Charnas took up a doctor friend’s offer for a coronavirus test; tests were especially hard to come by then, and still are. She broadcast it to her 1.3 million followers. This did not go over well in her comments section and on other internet forums. She insisted she paid for it, therefore she didn’t get special treatment, before capitulating in a later statement posted to Instagram. She wrote, “I acknowledge how lucky I am to have had that access,” and then she announced she had tested positive.

Her next mistake was documenting her family's move to the Hamptons. Many others also left New York for less-dense places (which often also have fewer resources, medical or otherwise). Reporting caught up with them. The locals in the vacation towns around the city from the mountains to the sea were feeling mad and chatty. Governor Andrew Cuomo has strongly urged New Yorkers to shelter in place.