The influencer Aida Domènech, known as Dulceida, upon her arrival at the presentation of the documentary series “Dulceida al naked” on 2 November at the Capitol cinema in Madrid MARISCAL (EFE)
It never ceases to amaze me how proud influencers take to be recipients of the “brand equity” they use to pay their bills. I will never stop wondering why they machine gun the decent ones with the filler words “one hundred percent”, “reach the top”, “immense potential”… Reach the top no one knows where or for what. The influencer is a mask that promotes the vicissitudes of a diffuse design. The influencer does not know where the journey is going. Maybe that’s why Dulceida is crying because the race she’s in doesn’t have a finish line, and maybe she doesn’t know it’s John Trent at the end of The Mouth of Fear. What Dulceida knows—and so the documentary reiterates—is that she is work-weary. The working cremation works best when covered with tinsel.
Dulceida is a pioneer in her field. Her “fashion sense” couldn’t be grosser and more predictable, but she was able to connect with regular people, with girls who wanted to live their lives as network stars (movie stars sound dated). And Dulceida goes to therapy (in 2022 it’s essential) and says that she feels lonely and sad, although on the screen we see a series of satellites that live for her (so it seems). Aida Domènech is the song Lucky by Britney Spears through and through. You don’t succeed in networking until you cry on screen and say that “networks aren’t as pretty as they seem”. The Prime Video documentary makes you see Dulceida in a more human way, but it says nothing. Nothing counts, because behind Dulceida there is business, strategy, but no discourse. Just a completely normal girl who had the happy idea of opening a photo log in time.
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