The internet as a mood board for selfhood

When you hear “identity”, what comes to mind?

It’s what makes you who you are, right? Your personal and individual traits and qualities. But more and more, it’s beginning to feel like something you curate.

Online, we build ourselves the way we build Pinterest boards (usually via Pinterest boards): a collage of aesthetics, habits, and micro-signals stitched together to say, “this is who I am (or at least, who I want you to think I am).”

This is what I mean when I say internet has become a mood board for selfhood. It’s not just a mirror; it’s an endless archive of templates, characters, and archetypes to inhabit. And marketers, ever observant, have turned that fluidity into a business model.

Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest were once sold to us as tools for self-expression.

But they’ve quietly evolved into marketplaces of identity. Each post, purchase, and pin contributes to a version of yourself that exists as content. A performance optimised for visibility and coherence.

The line between taste and identity has essentially dissolved. We no longer buy products just because we like them, but because they say something about us. You’re not just buying Glossier; you’re buying the idea that you’re a cool girl. It's not just a Trader Joes tote, but a constructed piece of your identity. Every choice is a proxy for who you are and who you want to be seen as.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think this is inherently bad. Humans have always used symbols to communicate belonging. But the internet has industrialised that impulse.

What used to be personal expression is now algorithmic capital.

The more coherent your aesthetic, the better your engagement. And the modern marketing machine thrives on this collapse of identity and consumption.

We’re constantly sold the idea that transformation is just one purchase away. The language is subtle but insidious: “This serum is for the girl who has her life together.” “These sneakers make you the type of guy who wakes up at 5am.” “This coffee table book says you’re cultured, but approachable.”

Identity has become a subscription service. When you buy these products, you invest in the story they tell about you.

Cultural theorists like Jean Baudrillard called this “sign value”: the worth of an object is not in its use, but in the meaning it carries.

But the internet has taken that to its logical extreme. It’s not enough to own something; it must also signal something. Every object is but an aesthetic performance. And marketers, knowingly or not, have weaponised that desire for coherence.

Instead of selling to demographics we now sell to archetypes. The Clean Girl. The Tech Bro. The Cottagecore Dreamer. The Fermented Happy Gut Girl. Each with its own visual lexicon, moral tone, and consumer ecosystem.

The irony, of course, is that this performative selfhood is never complete.

Online identity is iterative, constantly updated, optimised, and rebranded. A little more Y2K this month. A little more minimalist next. A “new era” every time the algorithm gets bored.

That’s what keeps the consumer engine running. If selfhood is a product, it will always need upgrades. There’s always a new version of you to buy into.

But this also leaves us in a constant state of precarity… never quite finished, never quite enough. Do you feel insatiable? Like you’re always one step behind the next best thing? Yeah, that’s by design, sweetheart.

The mood board self is endlessly revisable, and therefore endlessly monetisable.

For marketers, this presents both an opportunity and a responsibility.

Brands that understand identity as fluid, not fixed, can build stronger resonance, but we also risk exploiting that fluidity. My take is to not dictate identity, but participate in its creation.

If you can, act less like a teacher and more like a collaborator; offering tools, aesthetics, and language that people can remix into their own self-expression. Think of the way Nike’s campaigns generally focus on capability rather than conformity. That’s the essence we want to capture.

If you’re building a brand in 2025, it’s worth asking:

• Are you selling a product, or a personality?

• Are you reinforcing archetypes, or expanding them?

• Are you helping people express who they are, or trapping them in who they think they should be?

As algorithms continue to shape what we see and desire, it’s getting harder to tell where the brand ends and the self begins.

And maybe that’s the final paradox of digital identity; the more we curate ourselves, the less control we actually have over the raw material.

But there’s still beauty in it. The internet as mood board isn’t all bad; it’s creative, playful, and kind of fun that way. The trick is remembering that curation isn’t the same as authenticity, and that a brand (you) can be part of someone’s story without writing the whole freaking script.

Because, well, that’s just big and greedy. 

-Sophie Randell, Writer