Why are cafes, restaurants, and even towns banning influencers?

Nowadays, it seems like every place "worth" frequenting is deemed that way by influencers. Lifestyle TikTokkers and Instagram foodies inform the world of which restaurants to choose, the pop-ups currently open, and where to eat when travelling.

But some spots are closing their doors on influencers, raising questions. Take Dae, a design shop and cafe in Brooklyn. As reported by Curbed, the space was inundated by influencers carrying tripods, to the point where the owners decided to ban them entirely. The issue was addressed on the cafe's Instagram account, permitting visitors to take "quick snaps" at their own tables, but firmly adding their new in-store, no photos-and-videos policy: "We love food and drink photos (clearly) … but the TikToks and Instagram photoshoots have gotten a bit out of control for us."

Just weeks earlier, a Vermont town came under the spotlight for invoking similar rules. Known for its picturesque autumn landscape, Pomfret closed its most visited and photographed spots to influencers and tourists. The town's board voted to shutter these areas between Sept. 23 and Oct. 15, citing "significant safety, environmental, aesthetic, and quality of life issues."

In July, some residents of the town created a public GoFundMe page to save Cloudland Road, a bucolic strip of land that served as a popular backdrop to fall-focused social media content. The fundraiser's organizers allege that determined visitors, intent on capturing perfect photographs, "have changed the neighborhood landscape to the point that it is untenable."

Both spots were highly recorded and featured on social media. Credit: TikTok: @euginanoh / @richardkrisak.

These are just two more recent incidents of this nature. In Jan. 2018, a hotel in Ireland banned all "bloggers", after an influencer asked the owner for a free stay in exchange for content. In Feb. 2020, a cafe in Taiwan "strictly banned" influencers, frustrated by Instagrammers going to great lengths to obtain their perfect shot within the store.

For some, banning content creators in 2023 seems like an interesting choice. It's hard to look past the rise of influencer marketing, and the subsequent reliance on influencers for promotion. That reliance comes from both businesses, wanting to promote products and places, and consumers, seeking suggestions from internet voices they trust.

One reason for such bans is simply logistical. Viral videos may be conducive to growth but oftentimes, the subjects of these videos aren't prepared for a surge in popularity. Dr. Marcus Collins, marketing professor at the University of Michigan, says that some restaurants and local attractions "can’t handle the new demand" and do not hold the infrastructure for it, therefore feeling "a physical strain". Sarah Blocksidge, a marketing director, agrees: "The reality is that some businesses just aren’t suited for the influx of people an influencer can attract, which can wind up hurting the business more than helping it."

But it seems the era of being disillusioned by some influencers, and their choices, has also dawned. Earlier this year, de-influencing became a craze (somewhat ironically). Over the summer, TikTokkers expressed outrage at the influx of micro-trends that not only have a ridiculously short lifespan, but also lack meaning. A growing faction of the internet seems fatigued by influencing, especially when it entails a constant barrage of capitalist content or a lack of self-awareness.

The same concept can be applied to the leisure industry. Sam Shaw, strategy director at consumer insights firm Canvas8, says that some influencers are perceived as having "a superficial relationship with the places they visit."

"Most places want sustainable customer-bases, not just swarms of people who are there 'for the gram' and then onto the next place," says Shaw. "This an extension of the earlier banning of phones and taking pictures in certain restaurants and clubs, in order to protect the “presence” of the experience for those who are there for the substance."

It's true that no-camera rules are not a new phenomenon: as early as 2013, major restaurants began to enforce stricter regulations for those intent on documenting meals. The New York Times described these diners as the "legions of amateur iPhone-wielding food lovers, who say what they do is a tribute — not to mention free advertising for the restaurants."

Over a decade later, the act of taking food pics has evolved into full-fledged careers for many. While this has revolutionized the hospitality and F&B industries to some extent, there is another side to be considered. As Dae's recent move illustrates, some spaces don't feel that they require social media promotion from others to boost their own sales. Joe Karasin, owner of a digital PR and SEO agency, says that sometimes influencers are "greatly misguided in the value they bring to brands."

"Sure, Kim Kardashian can help a brand sell products, but the overwhelming majority of micro-influencers bring little value," says Karasin.

He adds that there's a recent trend of influencers feeling a sense of misplaced ownership over both private and public spaces, also sometimes demanding free goods in exchange for content (as noted in the case of the B&B in Dublin). Baruch Labunski, founder of a digital marketing company, concurs, saying that "private businesses have grown tired of influencers because many go to cafes, venues, and even businesses like boat rentals to get items or services for free in exchange for a mention."

This may not be a consensus – and let's face it, influencers aren't going anywhere – but there is a tangible backlash around algorithms and their ruling power. As Shaw says, many are asking for a return for "protecting 'offline' experiences". Banning or limiting influencers seems like a way to offer this — even if the brands and businesses doing so have Instagram pages of their own.