The influencer age has created a new breed of celebrity: the perpetually discontented millionaire. Case in point? Molly-Mae Hague and her sister Zoe Rae, who this week sparked fury online after lamenting how “tiring” and “stressful” their back-to-back luxury getaways have been. The irony of their complaints — made while lounging in a five-star resort overlooking the Mediterranean — was not lost on the public, and the backlash was swift. But here's the twist no one's talking about: I don’t think it was a misstep. I think it was a ploy.
Let’s be honest — Molly-Mae didn’t get where she is by being oblivious. She’s a PR machine dressed in neutral tones and wrapped in £4,000 handbags. Her entire brand is curated, polished, and calculated. Which is exactly why this apparent moment of tone-deaf vulnerability feels… off.
Zoe Rae, her sister and self-declared “military influencer,” joined in the pity party, moaning about their hectic travel schedules and the toll of constant sun and sea. Cry me a Dior-scented river. For two women whose lives revolve around camera-ready content, perfectly lit villa shots, and carefully orchestrated ‘candid’ moments in private jets, the idea that they’ve suddenly lost awareness of how this might come across is laughable.
So what’s the real play here?
It’s called strategic relatability — the new influencer tactic where you feign exhaustion, mental burnout, or overwhelm not to garner sympathy, but to humanise your brand. The irony, of course, is that it's deeply inauthentic. The luxury moan has become a trend — an attempt to appear “just like us” while sipping green juice poolside in Saint-Tropez. It’s no longer enough to flaunt wealth — they have to suffer for it too.
But don’t be fooled. These are not naive girls accidentally putting their foot in their designer-mouths. This is a business. When Molly-Mae whines about the mental toll of choosing between Mykonos or Marbella, she knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s testing the waters, watching engagement soar, and counting on outrage to do what it always does: drive clicks, fuel commentary, and ultimately benefit the brand.
And here’s the kicker — it works. We watch, we mock, we post screenshots in group chats and stitch their moans on TikTok. But in doing so, we’re part of the machine. Molly-Mae has made a career out of polarising her audience — simultaneously adored and scrutinised. And Zoe Rae, following in her sister’s high-heeled footsteps, is learning that controversy pays.
The tragedy here isn’t their complaints — it’s that we still fall for them.
So next time you see an influencer bemoaning their privilege while wearing £1,200 sunglasses, remember: the real luxury isn’t the destination — it’s the manipulation. And they’ve turned us all into willing participants.
We’re not watching their lives. We’re watching a performance. And they’re laughing all the way to the next resort.
