Want to learn how to sell a "feeling"? Just look at fashion-foodfluencers.

Fashion, food, and a side of hedonism. Three of my favourite things.

It’s no doubt that I love the idea of chic women preparing and sharing beautiful, decadent dishes online. Which, I’ll admit, isn’t exactly groundbreaking stuff. We have our founding mothers Martha Stewart, Nigella Lawson, and Giada De Laurentiis to thank for that.

But over the last few years, the fashion-foodfluencer hybrid has gained serious cultural momentum. And it's morphed into something more than just a niche. It's a lifestyle flex, a branding masterclass, and a new benchmark for aspirational content.

Cooking on social media used to be primarily functional—how to make a dish, how to follow a recipe.

Now, it’s aspirational. The presentation of food is just as important as the dish itself, with every plate curated to match the overall aesthetic. The kitchen has become a runway, and the fashion-foodfluencer is its model.

Creators like Sophia Roe, Laila Gohar, and Caro Chambers have elevated home cooking into a fully immersive, sensory experience. The lighting is perfect, the mise en place is just so, and the ingredients are artfully arranged like a still-life painting. There’s an air of effortlessness, but let’s be real—it’s a highly curated kind of nonchalance.

This aesthetic obsession with cooking ties directly into the soft life movement.

It's a rejection of hustle culture in favour of slow mornings, indulgent meals, and an intimate connection to daily rituals. Slow living is about reclaiming leisure as a goal, not a guilty pleasure. But here’s where it gets interesting: the fashion-foodfluencer isn’t just one thing anymore. The classic vision leans toward cashmere sweaters, delicate glassware, and perfect omelets. But newer creators are rewriting the script.

Enter: Gabbriette Betchel, Jordan Rondel and Holly Barnes, who bring a darker, edgier take to the genre. Less breezy linen dresses, more black cat energy. They prove that as long as you have a defined style, you can make cooking an extension of your personal brand—whether that’s giving Italian nonna with a leather jacket or grunge girl plating raw fish like it’s couture.

And it’s more than just cooking; it’s a lifestyle that signals quiet luxury and an appreciation for the finer things.

There’s an exclusivity to the ingredients used (you know, the good olive oil, the perfect market strawberries, the heirloom tomato). It’s less about what you’re making and more about how the whole thing feels. It’s kind of the culinary equivalent of the ‘clean girl’ aesthetic. Except instead of Hailey Bieber’s glazed-donut skin, it’s a perfectly golden-browned sourdough pancake served on vintage china.

And let me tell you, it’s the reason my weekly grocery store trip is crippling me financially. Whether it’s soft and romantic or dark and moody, foodfluencers are selling a very specific kind of pleasure—one that feels intentional, refined, and maybe even a little hedonistic (in the best way possible).

So, how do they do it so damn well?

Unlike traditional food influencers (recipe first, personality second), these creators are the brand. Their style, voiceovers, and even the way they slice an onion become part of their storytelling. TikTok and Reels have made intimate, slice-of-life content thrive. And food fits seamlessly into that world.

Viewers aren’t just learning a recipe; they’re being invited into their favourite creator’s kitchen, and into a whole vibe. They want to know what candle is burning in the background, what sweater is being worn while making pasta, what playlist is playing while stirring a risotto. This level of personal curation is why audiences care—and why brands should, too.

It’s a masterclass in selling a feeling, not a product.

The fashion-foodfluencer movement proves that food content is no longer just about sustenance. It’s about style, identity, and the art of living well. And if you can capture that? You’re not just cooking. You’re curating a cultural moment.

-Sophie, Writer