The Rise of Comfort Creators

Written By : Hannah Corbett

A year ago, I was commuting to a job I didn’t like, in a city I didn’t love, living in a suburb that felt like a waiting room for a life I hadn’t quite gotten the nerve to chase. My favorite beach was three hours away. I used to count the miles like it was a metaphor.

Now I live five minutes from the ocean. I’m the creative director of my own magazine. I spend my days making things that matter to me, collaborating with people who light me up. It sounds like a dream—and it is.

But it didn’t come from a course or a five-step plan or a Pinterest vision board (okay, maybe a little of that).

Mostly, it came from watching other women live their lives in ways that made me believe I could live mine differently too.

Not celebrities. Not influencers with stylists and team meetings and villas in Italy. I’m talking about the girls who take you grocery shopping with them. Who talk through their favorite lip gloss while putting away laundry. Who romanticize iced coffee, errands, and beach walks in ways that feel like actual magic.

People like Abby Catlin and Jocelyn Rock. A year ago, I was watching their summer content from my very un-summery desk job, heart aching in the best possible way. They didn’t try to sell me a fantasy—they showed me a life that felt possible.

A softer, slower, sunnier version of what I already knew I wanted.

There’s something wildly comforting about the creators who just are. Who doesn't seem like they’re performing for the camera. Who slip brand deals into their vlogs like you’d recommend your favorite chapstick to a friend. I trust those people. I root for them.

And sure, I still love the big names—Kennedy Eurich is me and my sister's favorite person to watch together. Halle Kate is effortlessly hilarious. I love them because they’re real, too. Even with over a million followers, I feel like they’re the type of girls I’d walk past in Target and complement their purse. They’ve earned their space, and they still feel like people you could accidentally become best friends with.

But I think we’re all a little tired of aspiration. I think we’re craving attainable. Relatable. Human.  Someone we would be friends with.

Influence doesn’t have to be shiny. It can be soft. It can be quiet. It can look like someone folding laundry while talking about their goals for the week. The people I’m influenced by most aren’t larger-than-life. They’re just living—and doing it with enough warmth and honesty that I want to do the same.