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Luxury hauls rack up millions of views. Mansion tours go viral daily. The algorithm keeps feeding us exotic cars and designer shopping hauls. And yet when we surveyed Gen Z, 83.8% said they don't follow any wealthy influencers at all and 59.5% answered "eat the rich" when asked how they feel about the ultra-wealthy.
Welcome to the hate-watch economy, where the content we consume most is the content we resent most.
Previous generations consumed luxury differently. It was a glimpse of the future that felt attainable if you worked hard enough and climbed high enough. The American Dream wasn't a joke yet. But Gen Z came of age watching the dream collapse in real time.
We watched our parents survive the 2008 financial crisis. We watched the post-pandemic economy vaporize jobs while jacking up grocery prices. We watched housing prices detach completely from wages, student debt grow into a generational crisis, and the gig economy rebrand exploitation as entrepreneurship. And with CEO compensation soaring 1,085% since 1978 while worker pay crawled up 24%, the math stopped mathing. Luxury content stopped feeling like "this could be me" and started feeling like "this is so out of touch."
The aspiration died. But the watching didn't stop.
Brands see the views and think it's working. They watch luxury content explode across platforms and think Gen Z is hungry for wealth. Rich content performs but it performs because wealth is inherently dramatic. It's visual, extreme, polarizing. The algorithm rewards aesthetic maximalism and experiences so far outside the norm they become spectacle. But if you look closer at those comment sections, there’s price breakdowns, waste callouts, and jokes about surviving on food stamps. The engagement is there, but the sentiment underneath isn't inspiration. It's irritation.
When we asked Gen Z how they feel watching wealthy influencer content, the most common responses weren't "inspired" or "motivated." They were "annoyed" and "skeptical." That's the disconnect brands keep missing. Gen Z will watch and even engage. But it’s how we’re watching and engaging that matters the most. The Tarte influencer trips are a logical endpoint of a strategy built on a fundamental misunderstanding of Gen Z. The conventional marketing logic goes: show people luxury, let them dream, convert aspiration into desire and tadaaaa. But for Gen Z, instead of seeing a private jet and thinking "goals", we see it and think "this is why we can't afford rent" or “this is why our planet is dying.” When we asked Gen Z what type of wealth display they prefer to see—quiet luxury or loud luxury—50% said neither. Only 1.35% said they prefer loud luxury content.
Brands are confusing visibility with desirability. They throw lavish PR events for influencers who already have access, status, and financial security. They pay thousands for collaborations with influencers that have no real connection with their audience beyond access to a different lifestyle. It just doesn’t hit with Gen Z. This is what happens when you optimize for attention without understanding what kind of attention is actually beneficial for your brand.
But Gen Z doesn't hate all rich people. We don't reject wealth entirely. 78.4% believe there is a way to "do rich right."
The traits most likely to make Gen Z dislike a wealthy person:
The traits most likely to make Gen Z like a wealthy person:
Acknowledging privilege matters as much as being charitable. You have to demonstrate awareness and respect towards the systems and people that enabled your wealth. As Gen Z Koi Ponder Keanu (2002) says, “I like people who have a sense of responsibility, both for themselves and others. Who have a handle on what it means to live in a world with many different cultures, languages, and recognizes that connection and cutting away of excess wealth is important.”
This is why people like Dolly Parton get praised while traditional luxury influencers get hate-watched until their content gets forgotten. It's not about how much you have. It's about what you're doing with it while everyone else is one emergency away from a GoFundMe.
“Dolly is an angel on earth, and the three business oligarchs want nothing more than to suck the money right out of our wallets.” -Bibi, 2010
If you're a luxury brand trying to reach Gen Z, the opportunity is still there. Gen Z's spending power currently sits at $360 billion in the US alone, and we're projected to account for 25-30% of all luxury purchases by 2030. It’s key to understand that we’re not rejecting luxury – for Gen Z, luxury goes beyond a logo. You make everything by hand? That's luxury. You pay your workers a living wage? That's luxury. Do you source materials ethically and transparently? That's luxury. You refuse to use AI to cut corners on creative work when you have the resources to pay humans? That's luxury.
Gen Z's idea of luxury is changing; it's knowing your product makes the world a better place. It's the effort and care of the craftsmen over the control of a single visionary. It's about celebrating the heritage and culture of the people it's taking inspiration from over a single brand's "unique" or "attention-grabbing" aesthetic. A company's actions are what make something luxurious now, not just its marketing budget.
In an era where we're watching wealth we'll never access, while drowning in economic anxiety, Gen Z isn’t watching luxury to imagine themselves inside it anymore. Excess went from being “goals” to reading as insulation from reality, becoming a breeding ground for hate-watching. But hate-watching is not a long-term strategy – it lets Gen Z participate without believing. Observe without aspiring. Engage without buying into the fantasy. And spectacle without substance accelerates backlash, not desire. The future of luxury marketing isn’t about making Gen Z dream bigger, it’s about proving you’re worth dreaming about at all.
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