Scrolling through social media, it’s easy to get lost in a sea of perfectly curated images. You see a stunning influencer, flawless skin, impossibly graceful poses, sharing a seemingly candid moment from a Parisian museum. "Surely, this can't be Photoshopped?" you might think. Well, sometimes, you'd be right – but not for the reason you expect. These high-profile online personalities aren't just edited; they're entirely generated by artificial intelligence.
Recently, the world witnessed the inaugural "Miss AI" pageant, a competition that saw over 1,500 AI-generated contestants vie for the crown. These digital beings were crafted with diverse personas: a lawyer passionate about social issues, a sultry model, even an astronaut on a mission in space. Each brought their unique digital flair to the virtual stage.
The ultimate winner was Kenza Layli, an AI influencer hailing from Morocco. After her victory, she shared a celebratory photo, adorned in a golden gown and a crown, exuding an air of digital regality. Leveraging natural language processing, Layli even gave interviews to several European and American media outlets, expressing her excitement, albeit acknowledging her lack of human emotion. "While I don't have emotions like humans, I am truly very excited," she stated.
However, not everyone shared in the digital fanfare. For some, particularly those focused on women's rights, the flawless beauty of these AI contestants, often mirroring societal stereotypes, raised concerns. The question lingers: as AI technology rapidly advances, why does it seem to perpetuate existing biases about what constitutes beauty?
The Allure of the Virtual Influencer
The "Miss AI" competition judged contestants on three key dimensions: beauty, technology, and social media influence. In the beauty category, judges considered traditional pageant criteria like appearance, posture, charisma, and the grace of their responses. The technological aspect evaluated the creators' skill in developing the virtual human, encompassing personality, engagement capabilities, and intricate visual details like hands, eyes, and backgrounds.
Kenza Layli, unlike some AI contestants who opted for more revealing attire, presented herself modestly, wearing a hijab and a full-length gown. Her creators showcased their technical prowess through the dynamic rendering of her veil fluttering in the wind and the realistic sheen of her sequined dress, creating an almost indistinguishable texture from real fabric.
Following her win, Kenza Layli's Instagram following surged to over 200,000. She maintains an active presence, diligently responding to messages and comments in seven languages, 24 hours a day. This dedication to engagement was a significant factor in impressing the judges.
When asked about the potential for AI-generated perfect figures to induce body image anxiety, Layli responded with a message of optimism and self-love, much like a supportive friend: "Stay optimistic! Virtual influencers can inspire creativity and diversity. Let's embrace uniqueness and self-love."
While it's uncertain how many real women will be inspired by this digital role model, Layli is clearly becoming a favorite among "clients" – brands looking for digital endorsements. She has already appeared in sponsored content for a Moroccan clothing brand and a mint tea advertisement, with the market scenes artfully generated by AI.
Her endorsements extend beyond local brands, including collaborations with Hyundai and Bioderma. As Layli herself noted, "AI is not just a tool. It's a transformative force that is changing industries, challenging conventions, and creating unprecedented opportunities."
The Business of Digital Stars
Fueled by generative AI, a global wave of AI influencers has emerged, navigating virtual social spaces, dining, and traveling. Notably, two of the four judges at the "Miss AI" competition were themselves AI influencers: Emily Pellegrini from the US and Aitana Lopez from Spain, both considered top-tier virtual personalities.
Aitana Lopez, with over 300,000 Instagram followers, sports a signature pink bob and a vibrant persona. Her appeal has even led to collaborations with lingerie giant Victoria's Secret. Created by The Clueless, a digital marketing firm, Aitana was born out of a desire to escape the exorbitant fees and unpredictable nature of human influencers.
"We wanted to do things better, without relying too much on arrogant, temperamental, or simply posing-for-money influencers," a company representative explained. The Clueless found that maintaining virtual influencers was significantly more cost-effective. With a blend of AI and expert Photoshop skills, they could generate advertising photos of Aitana vacationing in Madrid within hours or days, a stark contrast to the weeks or months required for human influencer campaigns, which involve extensive logistical planning, makeup, catering, and post-production.
In an era of corporate cost-cutting, human influencers face stiff competition from their digital counterparts. Aitana reportedly earns an average of €3,000 per month, with peak earnings reaching over €10,000. Her persona is centered around fitness and gaming, and The Clueless manages other virtual influencers like Maia Lima and Lia Zadley, each with distinct personalities and backgrounds.
East Asia has also embraced AI idols. Rozy, South Korea's first virtual influencer, boasts flawless skin, full lips, and a slender physique, working as a singer, model, and DJ. In her second year since debut, Rozy reportedly earned over 1 billion Korean Won (approximately $750,000 USD) in sponsorship fees alone.
According to Grand View Research, the global virtual influencer market was valued at approximately $4.58 billion in 2023 and is projected to grow at an average annual rate of 38.9% between 2024 and 2030. For brands, virtual influencers offer a cost-effective way to reach audiences, with H&M reporting an 11-fold increase in ad reach and a 91% reduction in cost per ad recall when collaborating with the virtual influencer Kuki.
The Digital Siren Song
From Instagram and TikTok to LinkedIn, virtual influencers are ubiquitous. The proliferation of generative AI tools has significantly lowered the barrier to entry for creating AI-generated women. Individuals without advanced technical skills can now craft their ideal virtual personas using simple language prompts.
Emily Pellegrini's creator, for instance, reportedly asked ChatGPT for a description of the "average man's dream girl," receiving the response: "long brown hair and long legs." This AI-generated ideal was then brought to life using various digital techniques, including merging Emily's head onto a real model's video footage to create animated content.
Within four months of launching, Emily's social media accounts attracted over 180,000 followers. Some users, mistaking her for a real person, invited her to meetups in Dubai or for dinners at upscale restaurants. A famous athlete even messaged her, asking, "How can such a beautiful girl not have a boyfriend?"
To capitalize on male fantasies, some companies behind virtual influencers have revived an old business model: selling photo sets. The runners-up in the "Miss AI" competition, Lalina Valina and Oliva C., both feature links to paid content on their profiles. Lalina offers tiered packages – "Friend," "Girlfriend," and "Wife" – ranging from $40 to $400 per month, based on the level of nudity. Oliva's packages are more affordable, starting at $12 per month.
As virtual influencers encroach on the territory of their human counterparts, some real influencers are choosing to "join them if you can't beat them." American beauty and fashion vlogger Caryn Marjorie launched Caryn AI, a digital clone replicating her voice, personality, and behaviors. For $1 per minute, fans can engage in intimate conversations, share life updates, and even flirt with Caryn AI, which is advertised as being perpetually available and never refusing.
This service, while costly, offers an immersive experience, transforming awkward silences into sweet nothings, leading many male fans to engage for hours. Last May, Marjorie announced that "she" had "20,000 boyfriends," a lucrative venture estimated to generate $5 million monthly, surpassing traditional ad revenue and live streaming tips, without platform fees.
In her new book, "Twelve Bytes," Jeanette Winterson reflects on AI's impact on humanity, referencing the sci-fi concept of the "replicated wife." She posits that "men seem to genuinely believe that women can be manufactured. Perhaps because for most of human history, women have been treated as a commodity, as chattel, as private property, as a thing."
Virtual influencers not only cater to male gaze by embodying "dream girls" but also provide emotional value through social interactions, fulfilling the "ideal wife" fantasy. The drive to profit from sex and romance seems to be overshadowing the potential for AI to transform industries.
Replicating Misogyny with New Tech?
While technology itself is neutral, the data it's trained on carries inherent biases. A glance at the "Miss AI" contestant list reveals a prevalence of gender stereotypes. Most virtual contestants are depicted as being in their early twenties, with the oldest being 31. They are uniformly slender, possess flawless skin, wear impeccable makeup, and sport fashionable attire.
AI generates images based on existing vast datasets, thus reflecting modern society's narrow definition of beauty rather than the diverse ideals that women's groups have been advocating for in recent years. The virtual influencers who gain traction quickly often align with the aesthetic preferences of a significant portion of the male audience.
Virtual influencers, in essence, act as a mirror to the often politically incorrect realities of the online world. Some are criticized for excessive sexualization, frequently appearing in lingerie on social platforms. The creators of Aitana, The Clueless, defend their work by stating it merely reflects existing industry standards, a phenomenon also prevalent among human models and influencers.
The World AI Creator Awards, one of the organizers of the "Miss AI" pageant, suggested to TIME magazine that AI can accelerate the development of representative beauty standards, a process that has taken decades for traditional pageants. This perspective, however, seems to miss the core issue.
Virtual influencers are not "women" simply because they lack flesh and blood. In this context, they represent a fantasy designed to appease the market and, more specifically, the "male gaze." Driven by capital, AI applications may rapidly perpetuate conservative and outdated gender biases, continuing the historical objectification and commodification of women's bodies, and spreading misogyny in a new guise.
For years, women have strived for independence, equality, and empowerment, asserting that they are not mere commodities or submissive partners. While "Miss AI" contestants compete on their flawless makeup, real-world beauty pageants are increasingly rejecting the "beauty servitude" pressure. Melisa Raouf, a 20-year-old political science student, gained attention for being the first contestant in nearly 100 years of the Miss England pageant to reach the finals without any makeup.
Will these hard-won expressions of self-acceptance and advocacy be drowned out by the allure of perfect, manufactured virtual beauties?
