Aesthetics, vibes, and the promise of authenticity—why there is no gospel of attention tactics
This week in 50-somethinghood, I’ve been wondering who might be interested in what I have to say and actually reading what I’m writing. At this point, not many. I mean, why would you? I’ve not earned your attention yet.
I’ve spent 25+ years understanding how to get audiences to pay attention. Now I’m sitting inside one of the most economically powerful—and routinely overlooked—audiences in the country: women 50+. And I’m asking myself what I pay attention to.
What catches my eye and makes me stop scrolling? What makes something feel like it's for me rather than aimed at some generic idea of a 50+ woman? What encourages me to engage with a post and decide if I want to look further? What makes me want to follow or sign up for an email? And conversely, what makes me think, Oh, hell no. You just want me to buy something.
Gaining someone’s attention is the official, all-important, top-of-funnel activity in our very noisy visibility economy. Before a brand can even think about showing value, it's got to get my attention, and for me, this is where aesthetics or a vibe comes into play.
Before I’ve read much. Before I know anything about them. Before I know what they stand for or if I’ll find them interesting, something about the visual language is telling me I belong here.
But aesthetics only gets my attention. Once I stop scrolling because I like the vibe, something has to happen. My instinct needs to be validated. They need to show me something, teach me something, make me laugh, introduce me to something. Demonstrate taste, expertise, like-minded craziness… something has to connect, to give me a reason to stay.
I’m realizing the “vibe” isn’t as superficial as it sounds. It’s easy to dismiss aesthetics as branding fluff. But in today’s online-first discovery environment, the aesthetic is information. Before you've read someone's credentials, you're picking up dozens of signals:
Does this feel sophisticated or cheesy? Is she selling too hard? Does her life seem impossibly manufactured? Does she have taste I relate to? Is she talking to women like me or at women like me? Does she seem interesting? Does she seem like someone whose recommendations I'd actually want?
I respond when I get a sense of the person or brand behind something. I don’t like endless oversharing or authenticity as a marketing tactic. I need just enough specificity and personality—a snapshot of their taste and sense of humor—so I feel like I understand how they might see the world.
And probably most importantly:
Do I recognize some version of myself—or who I might like to be—in her world?
There are thousands of people who can give me useful, important information. There are far fewer whose world I want to spend time in.
If I like the aesthetic and something resonates, I’ll follow or subscribe. But that’s just the beginning—the top-of-funnel entry. I’ve permitted you to keep talking to me. Now I’m going to see what you do with it.
Getting my attention isn't the same thing as being let in. Being let in means I’ve given you permission to keep getting my attention.
Following or subscribing is an act of permission. I’m saying, Okay, you can now show up among my friends, family, news, recipes, dogs, interiors, whatever else I care about. Let's see what you've got.
I’ve spent 25+ years trying to move people through funnels. I don’t think I ever actually thought much about what it feels like to be the person being moved through one, one scroll at a time.
