Romanticising travel, tourism-phobia, influencer vacations—these are all terms we’ve come across on TikTok at one point or another. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love a holiday. But I also think it’s fair to say that the European summer or #Eurosummer trend has been pushed to such an extreme that not only are we practically punishing ourselves if we don’t have a four-week trip to Ibiza planned, but we’re also losing sight of the fact that perhaps the algorithm’s most prevalent purpose should be focusing on the many parts of the world that are currently facing catastrophic humanitarian disasters.
Whenever summer rolls around, people take to social media to share videos of their vacations. And while Dubai may have dominated the summer of 2018, Europe is officially the in spot right now. Places like Lisbon, Mallorca, Venice, Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and the Amalfi Coast are overflowing with tourists. And while, once again, I have no qualms with the trips themselves (I personally would up sticks and move to the Italian coast right now if I could), it’s the narrative and rhetoric that come along with them that we need to address.
The idea of a Euro summer is vast—it’s island hopping, it’s going from one beach to another and staying at the most beautiful hotels, it’s eating gelato across the span of three different countries. In short, it’s unrealistic.
And while this influx of content wouldn’t usually spark much of a reaction, this year, things feel particularly poignant.
The war is still raging on in Gaza, the Democratic Republic of the Congo is facing mass displacement and conflict-related deaths, and we’re also in the midst of witnessing two of the most important elections in the history of both the UK and the US. Basically, a lot is happening. And some of the excesses in respect of the European summer content feels mildly tone-deaf.
In my eyes, a #Eurosummer is when someone, typically from the US, spends an extended period of time in Europe. We’re talking aesthetically pleasing cobbled streets, and lots and lots of Aperol Spritz and blue water. #Eurosummer gained prominence in tandem with the proliferation of Mamma Mia summers in Greece and searching for La Dolce Vita (the sweet life) in Italy.
When I think of a European summer, I now tend to picture influencer Alix Earle. The 23-year-old creator, who has an insane following of 6.9 million followers on TikTok, is currently making her way across Europe attending work events, weddings, and just generally soaking up the sun.
My point is to direct hate towards Earle, it’s more to exemplify the kinds of false realities her content sells to viewers. And she’s not alone, my TikTok FYP is completely full of different influencers, many of whom I really like, enjoying their own Euro summers:
The #Eurosummer trend is not only unrealistic, it also promotes consumerism like its life depends on it. The European style ultimately ends up translating into a swathe of products for one to immerse themselves in. It’s not just a holiday, it’s a lifestyle brand—and an expensive one at that. This attitude also omits the fact that each country in Europe has its own specific culture, history, and language.
And it seems as though even the locals are not obsessed with the European summer craze. In June this year, 10,000 locals marched through Mallorca’s capital, Palma, protesting against the saturation tourism that they say has rendered their city unliveable. For context, in 2022, roughly 8.3 million Americans travelled to Southern and Mediterranean European countries.
The beauty of Europe is undeniable, and it makes sense that so many people flock to Italy, Greece, Spain, etc. But with the world currently experiencing mass pain and suffering, the #Eurosummer trend needs to either be curbed or measured appropriately with content that properly addresses the political and cultural issues going on.
So, in short, the algorithm might be making my socials a whole lot more aesthetically pleasing right now, but at what cost?