The Baddie Business: How Instagram “Models” Sell a Life You Can’t Afford and How Some of Them Fund It

The glossy Instagram feeds of so-called “baddies” have become a cultural phenomenon. They showcase sunsets in Ibiza, champagne dinners in Dubai, luxury cars in Johannesburg and wardrobes dripping in designer fashion. The aesthetic has been marketed as the image of the modern, hardworking, independent woman who supposedly turned her hustle into a lifestyle. For young women across South Africa, the allure of the baddie is powerful. It sells a dream of freedom, independence and glamour. But behind the filter, much of this life is an illusion.

The truth is that while some influencers genuinely fund their lifestyles through brand sponsorships, subscription content, entrepreneurship and legitimate deals, a large portion of what we see online is financed through deception, sexual commodification, sugar arrangements and in some cases outright fraud. The performance of wealth has become an economy in itself.

Many influencers buy followers and engagement, inflate their digital value, and use rented props such as cars, handbags or even private jets to create the appearance of affluence. Others tap into subscription platforms and adult content sales, often framed as empowerment but complicated by coercion, exploitation and stigma. Then there are sugar relationships, where wealthy older men pay for travel, clothes and dinners in exchange for companionship, a practice that has become increasingly visible in South African cities. On the darker edge lie scams and fraud schemes, where the social capital of online influence is weaponised to attract victims into pyramid structures, fake investments or even romance scams.

In South Africa, these patterns are not abstract. The country has already seen its share of scandals. Durban’s TikTok personality Prishanta Roshan Sewpaul was arrested in 2024 for her alleged involvement in a Ponzi scheme centred on bulk fuel sales. Her popularity online gave her credibility, and investors were convinced by her image of success, only to lose money in what prosecutors described as a classic fraud operation.

Around the same time, Themba Selahle, better known as @xo_grootman, came under investigation by the Financial Sector Conduct Authority for offering financial services without authorisation. His carefully curated posts of luxury cars and wealth had persuaded many of his followers to trust his trading tips and investments, but regulators warned the public to steer clear. These are not isolated cases.

The problem goes deeper. A 2020 report by marketing analytics firm HypeAuditor revealed that follower manipulation was rampant among South African influencers, with many charging upwards of R11,000 per sponsored post while padding their numbers with bots and fake engagement. For brands, this means paying for reach that does not exist, and for audiences it means trusting creators who are not as powerful or influential as they appear. Even partnerships between brands and influencers can collapse into controversy.

When haircare brand Native Child Africa clashed with influencer Mary Akinwale, a contractual dispute spiralled into public defamation, legal action and a court interdict. What had started as a glossy brand collaboration became a lesson in how quickly image management can turn toxic in the influencer economy. And in an even more brazen case, the saga of “Dr” Matthew Lani revealed how far some will go to manufacture credibility. Lani built a large following by posing as a qualified medical doctor and dispensing advice online until he was exposed by institutions and law enforcement.

His false identity was not just a personal fraud but a direct exploitation of trust built through social media.These stories matter because they reveal the true cost of the baddie economy. For every genuine creator who monetises her talent, there are many who borrow, fake or scam their way into visibility. The problem is not only that followers are misled; it is that young South African women who consume these images may internalise the message that deception is a legitimate shortcut to success. Some fall into debt trying to replicate the lifestyle, others turn to transactional relationships or unsafe arrangements, and still others are recruited into schemes that drain their money and dignity. The baddie dream markets itself as empowerment, but too often it conceals dependence, risk and exploitation.

What makes this more dangerous is that social media thrives on perception, not reality. The constant stream of luxury content convinces audiences that wealth is accessible if you only hustle hard enough. The truth is that in many cases the hustling is fake, the independence is borrowed and the lifestyle is underwritten by arrangements too risky to put on the feed. Behind the champagne glasses and luxury handbags is an industry that relies on illusion, and for those chasing it, the consequences can be severe.

The baddie aesthetic is powerful because it taps into real aspirations: financial freedom, independence and recognition. But in South Africa and beyond, it has also become a performance that too often crosses into deception, manipulation and crime. It is important to look past the filters and ask harder questions: whose money is funding this life, whose risks are being hidden, and whose futures are being shaped by the lie that all of this is possible without consequence?

Sources and further reading (select reporting)

• Business Insider — Investigations into influencers faking wealth and scams. Business Insider

• Business Insider — How creators make money on subscription platforms (OnlyFans examples and mechanics). Business Insider

• IOL (Independent Online, South Africa) — Reporting on sugar-dating and its rise on social platforms in South Africa. IOL

• New York Post / court reporting — Example cases of influencer involvement in large-scale catfishing and fraud networks. New York Post

• Wikipedia / reporting on famous South African fabrications of wealth (for local context and precedent). Wikipedia