Do you remember those iconic posters from the magazine Superpop? Gone are the days when Leonardo DiCaprio or the Spice Girls covered the notebooks of high school kids (especially girls). Even further back are the groupies of TV series like Verano azul and Beverly Hills, 90210. Were you Team Dylan or Team Brandon?
It turns out that music, television, and cinema no longer hold sway. Generation Z and the late millennials - born in the 90s - do not feel a true emotional connection with the big cultural stars, but with content creators they follow on TikTok or Instagram. According to the Digital Media Trends in 2025 report published by the global consulting firm Deloitte, 56% of the surveyed youth claim to "feel a stronger personal connection" with content creators on social media than with TV celebrities, pop icons, or Hollywood actors. This includes those from their own generation, like Zendaya, Paul Mescal, or Timothée Chalamet. The landscape where fame is built today is no longer the same as before.
For Gen Z, viral videos on social media have displaced hit TV series, and influencers are the new reality TV stars. "The references have changed because the sources of information have changed. Before, celebrities were the protagonists: athletes, singers, actors... They were the characters that media outlets focused on and forced audiences to pay attention to. Print media or television talked about certain people as subjects worthy of admiration. There was no other place to look," explains Itziar Oltra, a marketing doctor.
"Now, social media has changed the paradigm. Anyone with access to technology can create content, attract attention, build audiences, and become influencers," she continues. This false sense of closeness to the unattainable idol, the lifelong crush, even leads to establishing parasocial relationships with these figures.
"In the early 2000s, we watched many movies and series starring famous actors, and in the end, those people became your reference because you watched content based precisely on the actors who appeared, because you were their fan," says Claudia Marrero, 26, who admits feeling closer to the previous generation than her own. "I understand that references have diversified, and there is also much more content now than 10 years ago. It's normal for today's teenagers to know more influencers than artists and to trust them more because they have become popular on TikTok, their favorite social network. And the actors don't ring a bell to them or connect with them because they don't perceive them as equals," she says.
This phenomenon reflects a profound cultural change: the idea of what it means to be famous is undergoing a transformation. New generations prefer people who seem real, close, and spontaneous, as opposed to icons they perceive as "distant, institutional, and manufactured." In fact, 56% of young people say they watch series or movies on streaming services solely based on these creators' recommendations, who serve as reliable content curators. Additionally, 63% claim to receive better travel or consumption recommendations on TikTok than on any other channel.
"Creators speak in a relatable manner, they have reached a common ground understandable to the new generations and speak their language."
"I generally consume more YouTube when it comes to movies or series. It's more in-depth content than channels I'm subscribed to because I know the effort put in by the creators, it aligns with my tastes, and I trust their suggestions even if they don't initially attract me much because they're not quite my style," Marrero maintains. However, she admits that TikTok's algorithm has "got the hang of it" for her reading preferences, although she values the content itself more than the person recommending it: "I think it's more accurate when it comes to niche fandoms. It offers me novelties and suggests books that I didn't know I needed until that moment."
One of these new cultural references recommending what to watch or read almost daily is Javier Ruescas, a young adult literature writer, screenwriter, and booktoker with nearly 120,000 followers on Instagram: "Closeness is the fundamental factor, there's not a hint of aspiration. Creators speak in a relatable manner, they have reached a common ground understandable to the new generations and speak their language. They also often share technical and audiovisual content that easily connects with this audience."
This is the case of the popular streamer Ibai Llanos, creator of La Velada del Año. In December, he was chosen by Netflix and KFC to promote the second season of the series Squid Game. Hundreds of young people participated in his particular scavenger hunt for three hours, which was broadcasted on his Twitch channel to 170,000 viewers.
But, do their selection of recommendations reflect personal preferences or rather commitments to production companies, publishers, or brands? "I have total freedom. If I attend a specific event, it might be easier for me to talk about it if I like it. I don't create content about things I don't enjoy, although, as a creator, I know how difficult it is just to create something, and that also needs to be taken into account," says Ruescas.
"The selection criterion is that it's something that interests me. I can't tailor to each person who follows me, and I understand that if they consume my content, it's because we have some common ground," considers Violeta West, a lifestyle content creator with over 238,000 followers on YouTube. In her channel, she shares not only series, books, movies, and restaurant recommendations but also her favorite healthy recipes, DIY tips, and makeup products. "I usually give my honest opinion on everything. What I won't do is say I like something just because it's trending or has been well-received by most influencers; there's no need to be complacent," she clarifies.
West acknowledges, however, that if you want to do this professionally full-time, you have to partner with certain brands: "That doesn't mean you don't have to filter based on certain criteria. It's a balance to not become a walking billboard and at the same time give value to your work, which is sustained by advertising so that people who watch you can do so for free, just like on television."
In the transition from the small screen to the ultra-small one, parasocial relationships have found the perfect environment to flourish. We're talking about those one-way connections where one feels closeness with someone who, in reality, doesn't even know they exist. It could be a tiktoker, a former contestant from a talent show, or the singer of a boy band. Although it may seem new, the concept is old: over 70 years ago, it was used to describe the emotional connection with political figures, deities, and even spirits.
In the United States, half of the population claims to have experienced a parasocial relationship fostered by excessive mobile phone use. Data shows that these relationships are particularly common among young men aged 16 to 24, according to a study by Thriveworks, an American company that provides mental health services both in-person and online.
"While we watch all the content from a creator and feel that they are our best friend and part of our daily life, that's not reciprocal; the creator doesn't know anything about you. Although a close creator-follower relationship can be created, and I believe that having a solid community is something that marks the success of any influencer, followers need to be aware of the boundaries," comments Oltra. Ruescas also shares that view, albeit with some nuances: "I believe it's a real closeness, but within the boundaries of what a social network is. The audience itself has also learned over the years the real value of that closeness."
This sense of closeness due to the absence of mediation expressed on social media sometimes leads creators to receive "overly personal" messages. To what extent does this become uncomfortable or intrusive? "I think it's a fear that all creators have, that by sharing part of our lives with people, someone might feel free to give their opinion offensively or send inappropriate photos," argues West. "There are times when I wonder if they would speak like that to a stranger in their daily life. Exposing oneself on social media is not a reason to behave differently than we would in real life."
However, in the absence of real connections, fictitious ones serve. Hence the success of experiences that simulate intimacy: from meet and greets - where some pay real fortunes to spend a few minutes with their favorite artist before the concert - to applications like Cameo, which offers personalized greetings from celebrities, or Bubble, a Korean platform that is a hit among K-pop fans. For less than five euros a month, users receive seemingly exclusive messages from their idols. In reality, they are mass and scheduled deliveries, but that doesn't prevent them from creating an illusion of closeness with the current idol.
Journalist Mar Manrique points out in an article for Watif that the idea is also spreading in the West, with platforms like Weverse, where powerful names like Ariana Grande or Gracie Abrams are already active. Direct interaction, albeit mediated, leads to a sense of authentic connection. So much so that some convince themselves that they have a real relationship with their idol. However, this type of connection is transactional and, in many cases, ends up creating a difficult-to-break dependency.
Given that, for many young people, digital influencers are the new stars, some of them have made the leap to traditional television or major streaming platforms like Netflix or Prime Video. "We see content creators being interviewed, becoming part of program casts, starring in reports, and even being followed by paparazzi," says Oltra. This is the case of Georgina, Dulceida, or the Pombo sisters, who have launched popcorn docuseries about their lives. But while 29% of consumers say they are willing to watch series or movie sagas if they are starring their favorite creators, 30% believe that by moving to television, these creators lose the authenticity that made them unique, according to the aforementioned Deloitte study.
Classic Disney series for teenagers have been reflecting this gradual change for years. While in their origins they showed young people excited about music or acting, dreaming of making a place for themselves in a complicated world (see, for example, Hannah Montana or High School Musical), the latest productions have featured smartphones and social media more than group choreographies. Twin Melody - yes, the twin dancers from Benidorm Fest 2023 - and other artists born on TikTok have made their way into them.
At the same time, lifelong celebrities are taking note. More and more actors, singers, or presenters are building their personal brand in the digital environment to stay relevant. "I think there is an interesting point in how the old-time influencers are seeking to adapt to the new formats. Look at what Sandra Golpe, the news anchor at Antena 3, does on her Instagram account. Or Rafael Nadal's entry into TikTok, as the platform itself is encouraging these profiles to join," says the marketing expert.
The message for the audiovisual industry is clear: whoever wants to connect with the young audience must start (and end) their strategy on social media. Digital creators are not only influencers with great power of influence; they can also be the biggest allies - or the worst critics - of cultural products. They democratize content, drive trends, generate conversation, and make anything that passes through their hands go viral.
West believes it is a phenomenon that has solidified now, but has been happening for over a decade with blogs and YouTube: "I think the key is that they are ordinary people we can relate to, who are not as scripted initially and share their most sincere opinion. This breaks down the barrier that celebrities used to maintain, and followers consider that person as a friend, rather than an idol."
However, breaking the paradigm is challenging. Many studies and platforms still operate with the old rules of the game, when entertainment revolved around the star system. Today, on the other hand, risk and cost have locked cinema into safe and expensive franchises. But if you were to ask a teenager their opinion on Tom Cruise's filmography, they would probably say: "Tom Cruise? Who's that guy?".