Under the Influence

With influencer culture consolidating its grip on wine communication, is it time for traditional critics to retire? James Lawrence investigates.

Ever since I wrote a polemic about the tendentious issue of influencers in 2021, members of the Instagram league have periodically taken me to task. There are many who now believe the complete death of traditional media is simply an inevitability; national governments, including Number 10 Downing Street, are increasingly preoccupied with courting content creators – something that came to light during the recent Budget. And if that's the score, then what hope do relatively small fry like wine critics, the lifeblood of wine communication in the 20th century, have of staying relevant? Is it time for them to hang up their boots?

In recent years, I have met a diverse collection of influencers at numerous events, running the whole gamut from the gloriously vapid – and completely disinterested in learning anything substantial about wine – to savvy, knowledgeable operators who effortlessly glide across different media, IWC judge Helen McGinn being a standout example. They are acutely aware that with the decline of traditional print journalism and wine columns, continued relevance requires embracing new platforms with relentless enthusiasm. Personally, I find it all a bit galling. But facts are facts: the privileged position once held by critics has diminished considerably as consumers – and, indeed, producers - increasingly look to content creators of all descriptions to help guide purchasing decisions. 



According to a study released by IAB UK, content creator revenues rose to £804 million in 2024 and £966 million in 2025, with £1.217 billion forecast for 2026. Of course, the study covered all sectors and not simply wine, but it demonstrates how influencer partnerships are superseding digital advertising in the 21st century. Meanwhile, research undertaken by SOWINE in 2026 found that 60% of consumers consider influencer recommendations important - up to 37% of socially active wine buyers say they have already bought a wine recommended online. This is more than engagement measured in likes; it is reported purchasing behaviour. And I cannot deny that the wine industry needs all the help it can get, particularly now, to sell more wine.

"We've seen very good results with micro- or nano-influencers. Their communities, though smaller, are far more receptive and qualified," said Champagne Palmer's communication manager François Demouy.

He emphasised that one of the most effective ways to measure the marketing value of influencers was via DTC sales, as the producer "communicates a unique discount code, for example, to a selection of influencers", which is then promoted to their community of followers.

Demouy added: "This makes it very easy to follow the commercial activity in our e-shop."

Animosity or envy?

So why the continued ambivalence towards this firmament, people still ask me? Is it simply jealously – resentment of being replaced by a medium in the ascendant while print and indeed broader written content risk going the way of the dinosaur? Partially. The decline of literacy among the populace as the visual medium replaces the written word is something I think we will all one day live to regret. But it's more than that. While some creators are serious and well-informed educators, sommeliers and buyers, there are plenty of charlatans, too – men and women who believe Lafite is a foot spa product, yet command much respect and recognition by sycophantic PRs. 



The UK Advertising Standards Authority has been hot on this - a report on Instagram and TikTok content (across different categories) found that 57% of sampled influencer advertisements complied with disclosure rules, while 9% used unclear labels and 34% carried no disclosure at all. Its monitoring covered more than 50,000 pieces of content from 509 UK accounts, so it matters.

Indeed, influencers are one of the most complained about forms of advertising when it comes to breaching standards. The key objective of many in this evolving profession, driven by commercial partnerships, is clearly to coin it, plain and simple. Their recommendations are about as authentic and trustworthy as a nine-bob note.

There are also noteworthy examples of producers having their fingers burnt. Several years ago, José Urtasun, owner of Rioja brand Remirez de Ganuza, told me that he'd had "a couple of bad experiences, partly because wine is often not treated with respect by many people and most of the time the world of social media is very unprofessional."

He continued: "Once I sponsored an event in Ibiza, where Luxeat was hosting some of the best chefs of Japan. The organisers asked me to send some bottles for the event and in return my brand would have great exposure because the influencer has thousands of followers. I had my doubts, however, in the end I took a risk – no photos of the wines were posted and I found out that not even the bottles were available for the guests to see what wine were they drinking."

Content creators can be a force for good - they can demystify wine in a conversational, visual and immediate format that suits the zeitgeist. Yet too often, their contribution to wine discourse is a wide-eyed selfie. 

Selective influence

The rapid ascendancy of influencer culture is not a clear-cut, however, when the focus shifts to the fine wine market – and older consumers. An admittedly ten-year-old study conducted by the Journal of Wine Economics examined scores from Robert Parker and Jancis Robinson for more than 1,700 red Bordeaux wines traded en primeur between 2004 and 2012. It found that both critics' ratings had a statistically and practically significant effect on prices. Granted, this is a historical study, not hard evidence that a critic, even one as renowned as Robinson, can influence today's market to the same degree. Nevertheless, it shows that informed, expert assessment has real utility for some collectors, and that perhaps critics are not yet destined for complete irrelevance.

More recently, an open letter sent to The Wine Advocate by a disgruntled Urstaun has caused quite a stir, likewise suggesting that traditional critics continue to play some role in shaping producer reputations and market confidence. In one of the more pointed barbs, Urtasun wrote: "I hope the next critic [covering Spain] will uphold such high professional and ethical standards that nobody will have reasonable grounds to question their partiality." Meanwhile, he pointed out that "it is simply not acceptable for a critic to act as a host or presenter of wines during an importer's commercial visit to a winery. The referee cannot also be the one scoring the goals." It seems unlikely that such an online brouhaha could develop around a profession facing imminent retirement, with little importance in the modern trade.

Indeed, much like influencers, traditional critics face the same challenge of navigating the inevitable commercial opportunities that arise and maintaining their status as an authoritative voice of independent, non-biased judgment. But the best offer something that few, if any influencers can hope to replicate: decades of contextual palate memory, rigour, and absolute objectivity.



I accept the centre of gravity is shifting: social media gurus are increasingly important in the wine sectors focused on discovery and accessible price points, while critics (hopefully) still have an important role in evaluation and imparted wisdom at the higher ends of the market. My head tells me that the rise of influencer culture is a positive thing – the trade needs every resource available to engage new generations of drinkers. Yet my heart is mourning a decisive shift towards a medium of communication that is altogether more superficial, transactional, and sadly emblematic of the age. Or perhaps I'm just getting old.