The more you saw it, the more that word lost its meaning. Brands started to get called out. Everyone claimed it and almost no one actually lived it.

Then… there was a shift. The COVID influencer/creator boom meant anyone with a cell phone & a TikTok account could become a ‘content creator’. And there was a real lane for it. Brands saw this. And they found a new way to become ‘liked’. Not just by one customer at a time… they found a new way to reach masses. All through one connection.

You see… being a creator means you have a following. A… ‘community’ if you may.

And that community trusts.

They trust your content.

They trust your opinions.

They trust… you.

Brands saw this too.

Where brands used to put up a billboard for people to see, creators are now their billboard. Brands used to hope you would drive past that billboard and care. Now they know their creators’ communities would walk down that very highway to see it if they had to.

So they ran it back. Same playbook, new word.

Where "authentic" used to anchor every brand deck, "community" took its place. Every brand is now a community. Every product launch is for the community. Agencies are pitching community strategy for retainer fees. They’re asking their teams how to "build community" by Q4.

Sound familiar?

Here's where the callback matters.

Being liked = money.

Being liked = clout.

Both sides figured out that proximity to a community was the shortest path to either one. Brands started chasing creators. Creators started chasing followers. Followers started chasing the feeling of belonging somewhere. And somewhere in that scramble, the word "community" got hollowed out the exact same way "authentic" did. It became a logo. A landing page. A launch event with a step-and-repeat.

And just like before, people can see right through it. We sure do.

All community initiatives are welcomed. But not all community initiatives are actually about community. You can feel the difference between a room of people who chose to be there for each other and a room of people who chose to be there for themselves. You can tell when a "founder" is in their own community and when they're just in the photos.

This is why most of these new "communities" will be gone in 18 months. Same as the "authentic" brands that fizzled in the late 2010s. Brands will figure out they've been clocked, blame the strategy, and move on to whatever the next operative word is. Belonging, maybe. Or movement. Or tribe. Pick your buzzword. The cycle doesn't care.

Because here's what they keep missing.

Community isn't a marketing tactic.

Putting people in a room with music and hoping they mesh, anyone can do that.

Running a real one means paying for things no one else knows. The venue fee you covered out of pocket. The extra hour you extended because everyone was enjoying themselves. The gear you upgraded because last month's event didn't look right and you knew your members deserved better.

It means staying up until 3 AM the night before, going back and forth on the run-of-show. It means standing in the empty space the morning of, walking the floor one more time, because the version of the event in your head has to match what people actually walk into.

It means absorbing the cost when sponsorships fall through. Answering to community members requests even when it's not technically your job. Showing up early to set up and staying late to break them down. Remembering names. Remembering what people are working on. Following up two weeks later to see if the introduction you made went somewhere.

It means showing up, week after week, no matter how many people are in the room.

That's the part you can't fake. That's the part you can't buy.

If you're building something right now and the word "community" is in your pitch, ask yourself one thing.

Would you still do this if there was no clout in it?

If there were no brand deals, no Instagram posts, no news features, no headlines, no money on the back end. Would you still be there at 3 AM the night before?

If the answer is yes, you're building a community. Keep going. We need more of you.

If the answer is no, that's okay. Just don't call it that. Call it a marketing channel. Call it an audience. Call it whatever it actually is.

The people you're talking to already know the difference.

— Fitzroy Powell Jr.
Co-Founder, Content Sunday

A.) I’ve always been creative as a child, but photography became different once I realized I wasn’t just taking pictures, I was building worlds of its own. There wasn’t a specific dramatic moment where everything clicked, but I remember starting to direct shoots and realizing I cared just as much about the feeling, styling, location, and story as I did the actual image. That’s when it shifted. I also started noticing that I’d think about concepts all day. I’d hear songs, watch movies, and instantly start imagining a shoot. Photography became the thing that made everything else make sense.

A.) I think it showed up before I realized it was becoming a style. I’ve always loved editorial work and images that feel cinematic or emotionally loud. I’m inspired by music videos, fashion campaigns, old magazine covers, 90s/Y2K visuals, and even moments that feel nostalgic. Over time I noticed I wasn’t interested in taking “pretty pictures” for the sake of it. I wanted photos to feel like scenes from a story people wanted to step into. That naturally pushed me toward bolder colors, stronger styling choices, and more intentional environments. I don’t think I chased a style as much as I kept following what excited me. Eventually I looked up and realized my work had a language of its own.

A.) One of my favorite shoots was a spec campaign I created inspired by Topicals. The process honestly started long before shoot day. I built mood boards, scouted locations, bought products myself, and worked through styling ideas. I knew I wanted this heavy blue-sky effect and visuals that felt clean but still alive, but day-of taught me one of my biggest creative lessons: things never happen exactly how you imagined them. Certain styling ideas changed, plans shifted, and I had to stay flexible. But honestly, that’s where it clicked. Instead of forcing every detail, I leaned into collaboration and adaptability. I think the best shoots happen somewhere between planning and trusting yourself enough to improvise.

A.) I think people underestimate the Carolinas creatively. There’s so much talent here. Charlotte is growing fast, and South Carolina has creatives building incredible things too, but because we’re not places people immediately associate with fashion or media, there’s sometimes pressure to feel like you need to leave to make something happen. What I wish more people understood is that creators here aren’t “small” creators. People are building brands, communities, events, and movements. The opportunities might look different than New York or Atlanta, but there’s real culture being built.

Last week, Maman, a NYC based French bakery, cafe & event space appeared in Charlotte, NC.

To avoid any FOMO & in hopes of finding another place I’ll drag my friends to on coworking days, I hit up my unemployed-friends-on-a-wednesday group chat and asked who was down to go.

Soon thereafter, 5 of us ended up in a line that went out the door, just awaiting our turn to step into the air conditioning.

Once we made it inside, we quickly noticed how detailed everything was. The space is gorgeous. Floral-draped ceilings, beautiful dishware (the kind your grandma would protect with her life), wood-fired cement light fixtures that look straight out of an episode of… well idk an episode of something on HBO MAX, and natural light pouring in from windows that stretch what feels like 20 feet up.

The aesthetic? Immaculate. Criteria #5 was certified.

The food was actually fantastic.

Here's the part where you sit down.

That sandwich, two pastries, and the juice came out to $50. I told you it was NYC in Charlotte.

But like I always say, I’ll try anything at least once. (Almost anything)

Aesthetic tax is real, and Maman is collecting.

Would I go back? Yes. Would I bring my laptop & camp out for four hours like I do at Sumaq? Yes. But I will be leaving my wallet at home.

Until next time,