When Brands Pretend to Be Your Ex: The Rise of Meltdown Marketing
Last week, a skincare brand posted a crying selfie. Not of a model with beautifully moisturised cheeks. No, it was the founder, sobbing over “how hard it is to keep going.” It wasn’t a campaign. It was... something else. Raw? Maybe. Real? Possibly. Strategically emotionally manipulative? I’d wager, yes.
Welcome to the era of Meltdown Marketing. A growing number of startup brands—and even some larger ones—are choosing to dissolve the line between authenticity and oversharing. It’s no longer enough to connect with your audience. You must weep with them. Fall apart at 2am on Instagram Live. Share receipts. Apologise. Or publicly 'take a break' from your own brand like you're breaking up with yourself. At its best, this is honesty in the age of polished nonsense. At its worst, it’s narcissism with a logo.
What’s fascinating is how audiences are complicit. These meltdowns get traction. They’re reshared, rehashed, and pored over like tabloid heartbreaks. We love our brands human and flawed, but we might be too eager to let them spiral. There’s something performative about turning pain into reach metrics. Especially when the pain is curated. The lighting is always good. The crying founder always remembers to tag the product.
I’m not saying marketers should go back to being robots in tie clips. But when the main call-to-action is 'comfort me', we’re in territory that’s less business, more therapy livestream. The trick, if there is one, lies in letting humanity through without weaponising it. Or, at the very least, crying off-camera and uploading after a deep breath and a strong cup of tea.
Welcome to the era of Meltdown Marketing. A growing number of startup brands—and even some larger ones—are choosing to dissolve the line between authenticity and oversharing. It’s no longer enough to connect with your audience. You must weep with them. Fall apart at 2am on Instagram Live. Share receipts. Apologise. Or publicly 'take a break' from your own brand like you're breaking up with yourself. At its best, this is honesty in the age of polished nonsense. At its worst, it’s narcissism with a logo.
What’s fascinating is how audiences are complicit. These meltdowns get traction. They’re reshared, rehashed, and pored over like tabloid heartbreaks. We love our brands human and flawed, but we might be too eager to let them spiral. There’s something performative about turning pain into reach metrics. Especially when the pain is curated. The lighting is always good. The crying founder always remembers to tag the product.
I’m not saying marketers should go back to being robots in tie clips. But when the main call-to-action is 'comfort me', we’re in territory that’s less business, more therapy livestream. The trick, if there is one, lies in letting humanity through without weaponising it. Or, at the very least, crying off-camera and uploading after a deep breath and a strong cup of tea.