In 2024, the internet erupted over what many dismissed as a petty feud between two “beige influencers.” Headlines like Should You Be Able to Copyright a Vibe? and Can You Ever Really Own an Aesthetic? flooded social media feeds. But beneath the mockery of the so-called “sad beige aesthetic” lawsuit—Sydney Gifford v. Alyssa Sheil—lies a serious and largely unresolved legal question: can the overall aesthetic of an influencer’s social media page receive protection under U.S. intellectual property law?

The short answer, under current law, is likely not. But it should.

The Rise of the Influencer Economy

To understand why this matters legally, you first have to understand the scale of what’s at stake. The influencer market was worth $1.7 billion in 2016. By 2022, it had exploded to $16.4 billion, and Forbes projects the creator economy will reach nearly $500 billion by 2027.[1] As of December 2025, more than 207 million content creators exist worldwide, with 162 million in the U.S. alone.[2] Over half of creators now consider content creation their full-time job.

Consumers, particularly young women, are driving this growth. A 2022 Pew Research survey found that 77% of women ages 18–29 follow influencers on social media, and 50% had purchased something after seeing an influencer post about it.[3] What drives those purchases isn’t just the product—it’s the influencer’s aesthetic, the carefully curated color palettes, composition styles, and visual consistency that signal trust and authorship. As one legal commentator put it: “An influencer’s aesthetic is often their most valuable business asset. It drives engagement, attracts sponsorships, and distinguishes one creator from countless others operating in the same space.”[4]

Alix Earle is the prime example. Brands don’t partner with her simply because she’s famous—they partner with her because of the specific, recognizable tone and aesthetic she’s built. Forbes even coined the term the “Alix Earle Effect” to describe her ability to sell out products through the power of her personal brand alone.[5] In this sense, influencers aren’t just endorsers—they are the brand.

The Lawsuit That Changed the Conversation

Sydney Gifford and Alyssa Sheil met in December 2022. Shortly after, Sheil’s social media presence transformed dramatically, shifting to a neutral, minimalist aesthetic strikingly similar to Gifford’s. On April 22, 2024, Gifford filed suit, alleging eight claims including trade dress infringement, copyright infringement, and misappropriation of likeness.[6]

The most compelling part of Gifford’s complaint was a seventy-page exhibit of side-by-side comparisons: Gifford posting a photo, then Sheil posting nearly the same photo, same products, same angles, same aesthetic, shortly after. In one instance, Gifford wore an unusual combination of a two-piece Amazon set, cowboy boots, a flower necktie, and unique glasses. Sheil posted an almost identical look days later.[7] Coincidence seems implausible across seventy examples.

Sheil’s defense? The “clean girl” aesthetic isn’t Gifford’s invention—it’s a widely used social media trend, and influencers adapt trends by nature.[8] Her legal answer, which opened with a Kim Kardashian quote, argued that because her photos weren’t identical copies, no actionable infringement occurred. The Magistrate Judge acknowledged the case “appear[ed] to be the first of its kind,” and recommended allowing several of Gifford’s claims to proceed.[9] But before the case could make new law, Gifford dropped the suit citing that it was too expensive, and she had just had a baby. The legal question remains wide open.

Why Current IP Law Falls Short

The reason Gifford’s claims were so difficult isn’t that copying didn’t happen, the visual evidence suggests it clearly did. The problem is that existing intellectual property doctrines were not built for digital aesthetics.

Copyright protects specific fixed expressions—a photograph, a video, a piece of text. It does not protect an overall aesthetic, a color palette, or a “vibe.” An influencer can copyright individual posts but not the cohesive visual identity that makes their brand recognizable.[10]

Trademark protects discrete source identifiers—logos, names, and slogans. It doesn’t cover the broader visual atmosphere of an online presence.

Trade dress is the most promising option. Under § 43(a) of the Lanham Act, trade dress protects the overall “look and feel” of a product or commercial space—think the Apple Store’s white minimalism or Starbucks’ green-and-wood interiors. To qualify, trade dress must be distinctive, nonfunctional, and its imitation must create a likelihood of consumer confusion.[11] The problem is that courts have historically confined trade dress to tangible commercial spaces, leaving digital creators in an awkward doctrinal gap.

Why Trade Dress Is Still the Best Path Forward

Despite its limitations, trade dress has a strong history of expanding to meet new commercial realities, and that history suggests influencer aesthetics could be next.

Courts once refused to protect anything beyond product labels and packaging. Then came Mastercrafters Clock & Radio Co. v. Vacheron & Constantin (1955), which extended protection to the visual design of a product itself.[12] In Two Pesos, Inc. v. Taco Cabana, Inc. (1992), the Supreme Court extended trade dress to the overall aesthetic of a restaurant, its décor, atmosphere, and interior design.[13] In Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co. (1995), the Court held that even a single color could be protected trade dress.[14] Most recently, in Blue Nile, Inc. v. Ice.com, Inc. (2007), a federal court refused to dismiss a trade dress claim over a jewelry website’s overall visual presentation, signaling willingness to consider digital aesthetics as protectable.[15]

Each expansion followed the same pattern: commerce evolved, consumers began associating new forms of visual presentation with a particular source, and courts adapted to protect that association. Influencer aesthetics fit that pattern exactly. Notably, influencer pages may actually be easier to protect under trade dress than traditional websites. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok standardize navigation, tabs, and architecture across all users, the influencer controls none of that. What they do control—color palettes, editing styles, composition choices, thematic consistency—is purely aesthetic and source-identifying, not functional. In that sense, an influencer’s page looks less like a website and more like the restaurant décor already protected in Two Pesos.

What Needs to Change

Scholars have proposed a specialized multi-factor test for digital trade dress infringement, adapted for the realities of social media.[16] Rather than applying website-era technical comparisons (pixel spacing or coding structures) that influencers can’t even control, courts would assess overall aesthetic similarity through factors like color scheme, visual tone, editing style, thematic consistency, and intentional copying. This framework fits influencer disputes better than it fits traditional websites. The evidence in Gifford v. Sheil, seventy pages of side-by-side comparisons, is exactly what such a test would rely on.

The Bigger Picture

The founding purpose of U.S. intellectual property law, enshrined in Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution, is to incentivize the creation of valuable works by securing limited rights for creators.[17] Without that protection, there is no incentive to invest time, creativity, and resources into building something original because someone else can copy it and profit without paying the cost of creation.

That is precisely what happened to Sydney Gifford. And until courts are willing to recognize influencer aesthetics as protectable trade dress, it will keep happening to creators who have built real commercial value through genuine creative labor.

The law has always expanded to protect what society values. The influencer economy, worth hundreds of billions of dollars and growing, is something society clearly values. It’s time for intellectual property law to catch up.

[1] Danielle Chemtob, Forbes Daily: The $250 Billion Influencer is Blooming, Forbes (Oct. 28, 2024), https://www.forbes.com/sites/daniellechemtob/2024/10/28/forbes-daily-the-250-billion-influencer-economy-is-booming/ [https://perma.cc/8QP4-HCLC].

[2] 30 Creator Economy Platform Growth Statistics Every Marketer Should Know in 2026, Archive (Jan. 2, 2026), https://archive.com/blog/creator-economy-platform-growth-statistics [https://perma.cc/U4GU-P7VN].

[3] Michelle Faverio & Monica Anderson, For shopping, phones are common and influencers have become a factor, Pew Research Center (Nov. 21, 2022), https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2022/11/21/for-shopping-phones-are-common-and-influencers-have-become-a-factor-especially-for-young-adults/ [https://perma.cc/9CR4-3VHH].

[4] Charlotte Godart, Copyrighting an Aesthetic: Intellectual Property in the Age of Online Influencers, Tucker Ellis (2024), https://www.tuckerellis.com/ip-tip-of-the-month-blog/copyrighting-an-aesthetic-intellectual-property-in-the-age-of-online-influencers/ [https://perma.cc/U2WZ-KAT9].

[5] Varvara Andreeva, Influencer and Celebrity Marketing in Branding (2024) (Master’s Thesis, Lappeenranta–Lahti University of Technology LUT), 34–35, https://lutpub.lut.fi/bitstream/handle/10024/168018/MastersThesis_Andreeva_Varvara.pdf?sequence=1 [https://perma.cc/TJ5A-TACT].

[6] Compl., Sydney Nicole LLC v. Alyssa Sheil LLC, No. 1:24-cv-423 (W.D. Tex. Apr. 22, 2024).

[7] Id., Exhibit A, at 49.

[8] Answer, Sydney Nicole LLC v. Alyssa Sheil LLC, No. 1:24-cv-423 (W.D. Tex. Aug. 5, 2024), at 2–3.

[9] Report and Recommendation of Magistrate Judge, Sydney Nicole LLC v. Alyssa Sheil LLC, No. 1:24-cv-423 (W.D. Tex. Nov. 15, 2024), at 3–4.

[10] Liz Brown, Bridging the Gap: Improving Intellectual Property Protection for the Look and Feel of Websites, 3 N.Y.U. J. Intell. Prop. & Ent. L. 310, 330.

[11] TrafFix Devices, Inc. v. Mktg. Displays, Inc., 532 U.S. 23, 29 (2001).

[12] Mastercrafters Clock & Radio Co. v. Vacheron & Constantin-Le Coultre Watches, Inc., 221 F.2d 464, 465–67 (2nd Cir. 1955).

[13] Two Pesos, Inc. v. Taco Cabana, Inc., 505 U.S. 763 (1992).

[14] Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Prods. Co., 514 U.S. 159 (1995).

[15] Blue Nile, Inc. v. Ice.com, Inc., 478 F. Supp. 2d 1240, 1245–46 (W.D. Wash. 2007).

[16] Brown, Bridging the Gap, at 334.

[17] U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 8.