Sabrina Carpenter mowed my lawn
You probably woke up today, scrolled through your feed, and saw at least three headlines about some celebrity “breaking the internet.” Maybe it was an actor who wore a shirt. Maybe it was a singer who ate lunch. Whatever it was, the internet exploded because we, as a society, have agreed—without signing any paperwork—that celebrities matter.
But what if they don’t?
Celebrities Are Just People, But With Better Lighting
Dr. Sandra Holt, professor of Cultural Sociology at Midwest University (not the real one, but let’s pretend), puts it plainly: “Celebrity is a collective hallucination. They don’t exist beyond the attention we give them. If tomorrow we all stopped caring about The Rock, he’d just be a very muscular man buying groceries in peace.”
That’s right. Without us, celebrities are basically tall Sims who can’t stop posting skincare routines.
Manufactured Stardom: The Wizard of Oz Effect
According to media critic Dr. Albert Ramos, “Publicists are basically stage magicians. They pull levers, dim the lights, and convince us their client’s new movie about a talking car is ‘important.’” Translation: celebrity is Oz, and the publicist is the guy behind the curtain frantically typing press releases while living off iced coffee.
The next time you see a glossy magazine cover, remember: that person did not wake up like that. A small army of stylists, makeup artists, and Photoshop technicians woke up for them.
Parasocial Friendships: Imaginary Relationships for Adults
Psychologist Dr. Lucy Green notes, “We’ve turned celebrities into our imaginary friends. Except instead of playing house with them, we buy their skincare serums and yell at strangers online about their dating lives.”
Think about it: most people know more about Taylor Swift’s exes than their own neighbors. (Your neighbor Carl? Divorced twice. Does woodworking in the garage. You didn’t know that, did you?)
The Great Celebrity Myth-Making Machine
Here’s the dirty secret: most of what we “know” about celebrities is completely fabricated. Their “childhood stories,” “favorite foods,” and “quirky dating habits”? All publicist-approved bedtime tales.
That “exclusive” magazine profile where the actor swears they’re “just a normal person who loves pizza”? A narrative cooked up by an assistant who once saw them look at a slice of pizza from across the room.
As media historian Dr. Nora Singh explains: “Celebrities are basically characters in a long-running fanfiction that PR teams write in real time. None of it has to be true—it just has to be entertaining enough for us to keep clicking.”
It’s why one week an actor is labeled “America’s sweetheart” and the next week they’re “troubled” for eating a sandwich in public. We’re not reading facts—we’re reading serialized gossip novels.
The Joke’s on Us
At the end of the day, celebrity isn’t real—it’s a group project where we all pretend someone is more important than they are. And like all group projects, a few people work really hard (publicists, stylists, unpaid interns), while the rest of us just show up and clap.
So the next time you see a celebrity trending for “walking outside in sweatpants,” remember: the only thing separating them from you is a little money, a lot of lighting, and the fact that nobody cares when you go to Starbucks.
Or, as Dr. Holt sums up: “Celebrity is just a socially agreed-upon mirage. Like daylight savings time, or brunch.”
And honestly? She’s not wrong.