In cities like New York and Toronto, a generation of young women has found audiences in the millions by presenting solitary living not as loss but as liberation — clean apartments, quiet evenings, and the quiet pride of needing no one. The trend arrives at a moment when the World Health Organization reports that roughly one in five young people already describe themselves as lonely, and researchers are left to ask an old question in a new form: when human isolation is packaged as aspiration, does the packaging change what is inside?
Loneliness as lifestyle: Social media influencers romanticize isolation amid health warnings
Prolonged social isolation documented to increase risk of heart disease, mental illness, and premature death, particularly affecting vulnerable young people aged 13-29.
You can just be. For someone anxious or isolated, that permission feels radical.
Mark
Why do you think these videos resonate so powerfully? What's the appeal?
Mimi
There's something honest about them that cuts through the noise. Most social media is people performing connection—parties, friend groups, romantic relationships. These videos say: you don't have to do that. You can just be. For someone who's anxious or isolated, that permission feels radical.
Mark
But isn't there a risk that permission becomes prescription? That people start thinking isolation is the goal rather than just... a temporary state?
Mimi
That's exactly what the researchers worry about. The line between destigmatizing solitude and normalizing loneliness is almost invisible. You can't see it in the video itself. You only see it in the follower who watches and thinks: maybe I don't need to fix this. Maybe this is just who I am now.
Mark
These creators claim authenticity. Are they being honest about their lives?
Mimi
Some probably are. Lana Isa talks openly about anxiety and loss. But authenticity is hard to verify when there's an algorithm rewarding the performance. Even if the loneliness is real, the way it's packaged—the clean apartment, the careful framing—that's still a choice. That's still curation.
Mark
What would a responsible version of this content look like?
Mimi
Maybe one that doesn't end with affirmation. One that says: I'm alone right now, and I'm working on it. Or: solitude helped me heal, but I'm also rebuilding connections. The danger isn't in showing loneliness. It's in suggesting it's a destination.
The Pulse
- Influencers like Paulina Cee and Lana Isa have turned Friday nights alone into viral content, attracting millions of followers by framing friendlessness as a form of peace rather than a wound.
- Health experts are alarmed — WHO data places loneliness among 17 to 21 percent of people aged 13 to 29, and prolonged isolation is clinically linked to heart disease, mental illness, and early death.
- The trend is almost exclusively female, leading researchers to ask whether it represents a genuine refusal of exhausting social expectations or simply a new aesthetic built on an old pain.
- Psychologists like Mareike Ernst see a razor-thin line between destigmatizing solitude and romanticizing isolation, warning that vulnerable young viewers may stop treating loneliness as a problem worth solving.
- A psychotherapist's public pushback against 'loneliness influencers' gathered roughly 900 views — while the accounts he challenged continue to grow by the millions, the imbalance itself a kind of answer.
In cities like New York and Toronto, a generation of young women has found audiences in the millions by presenting solitary living not as loss but as liberation — clean apartments, quiet evenings, and the quiet pride of needing no one. The trend arrives at a moment when the World Health Organization reports that roughly one in five young people already describe themselves as lonely, and researchers are left to ask an old question in a new form: when human isolation is packaged as aspiration, does the packaging change what is inside?
Paulina Cee's most-watched video shows something almost unremarkable: a woman coming home, changing into pajamas, ordering pizza, and spending Friday night alone with her cat. The caption frames it as confession. Eleven million people watched it. With over 320,000 Instagram followers, Paulina has built a career on presenting solitary life not as failure but as a quiet kind of mastery.
She is part of a broader cohort. In Toronto, Lana Isa titles her videos with deliberate candor — "what a weekend looks like as a friendless girl" — and fills them with immaculate apartments and self-care rituals. Her content grew from personal experience: generalized anxiety, a lost relationship, friendships that dissolved. What began as documentation of her own survival became a template that thousands now follow.
Researchers are divided on what this means. Mareike Ernst, who studies loneliness at the University of Klagenfurt, acknowledges that showing solitude as survivable — even dignified — pushes back against the relentless performance culture of social media. But she worries that young viewers already struggling with isolation may stop seeing it as something to move through and begin seeing it as something to inhabit permanently. The line between destigmatizing and romanticizing, she notes, is difficult to hold.
The health data gives that worry weight. The WHO reported in 2025 that between 17 and 21 percent of people aged 13 to 29 describe themselves as lonely. Prolonged isolation is linked without ambiguity to heart disease, mental illness, and premature death. That these influencers are almost exclusively women adds another layer — Ernst suggests the trend may function as resistance to the social expectation that women prioritize connection above all else, or it may simply be that the aesthetic of careful solitude fits naturally into the visual grammar female creators have already built around wellness and domesticity.
Phil Lane, a U.S.-based psychotherapist, posted a direct challenge on Instagram, urging loneliness influencers to stop making isolation aspirational and reminding his audience that human connection is a basic need, not an optional upgrade. His post received around 900 views. The accounts he addressed continue to grow by the millions — and in that gap between 900 and 11 million, something about the moment becomes legible.
Paulina Cee's most popular video is almost mundane in its specificity. A woman in business clothes arrives home, changes into pajamas, orders pizza, sits with her cat, cleans her apartment with meticulous care, and spends the evening on the couch. The caption reads like a confession: "POV: You live alone in NYC and have no friends so this is how you spend your Friday night." The video has been watched more than 11 million times. Paulina Cee, who has built an audience of over 320,000 followers on Instagram, has made a career of this particular aesthetic—the solitary life presented not as tragedy but as a kind of achievement.
She is far from alone in this. Across social media, a cohort of young women has begun packaging isolation as lifestyle content. Lana Isa, based in Toronto, titles her videos with deliberate bluntness: "just an introvert in her natural habitat (home alone with yummy food)" or "what a weekend looks like as a friendless girl with NO interest in men or dating." Her apartment, like Paulina's, is immaculate and spare—the kind of space that suggests not comfort but a kind of aesthetic purity. These creators end their posts with affirmations. Enjoy your life, they tell their followers. Be at peace with solitude. Lana Isa attributes her content to lived experience: she has generalized anxiety disorder, lost a relationship, and lost her friendships years ago. What began as documentation of her own recovery has become a template that thousands of young people now follow and emulate.
The trend raises a question that researchers are only beginning to grapple with: What happens when loneliness becomes content? Mareike Ernst, an assistant professor at the University of Klagenfurt who studies psychotherapy and loneliness, sees both value and danger in these accounts. On one hand, she notes, there is something genuinely useful about young women demonstrating that solitude is acceptable, that you can exist alone in public without shame. This pushes back against the relentless social performance that dominates much of social media. On the other hand, Ernst worries about the normalization effect. Young people watching these videos—people who may already be isolated, already struggling—might begin to see prolonged aloneness not as a problem to solve but as a lifestyle to aspire to. The line between destigmatizing solitude and romanticizing isolation is thin and difficult to police.
The health stakes are substantial. The World Health Organization reported in 2025 that between 17 and 21 percent of people aged 13 to 29 describe themselves as lonely, with the highest rates among teenagers. Roughly a quarter of young people experience social isolation. A Nivea study across 13 countries found that 24 percent of those aged 16 to 24 feel socially isolated, compared with 19 percent of the general population. The research on prolonged isolation is unambiguous: it increases the risk of heart disease, mental illness, and premature death. These are not minor concerns. They are the kinds of outcomes that public health officials track and try to prevent.
What makes this trend distinctly gendered is worth noting. These influencers are almost exclusively women. Ernst suspects this reflects the weight of gender expectations—women are socialized to build relationships, to be available, to prioritize connection. A countertrend that celebrates solitude might therefore read as a form of resistance, a refusal of those demands. Or it might simply be that the aesthetic of loneliness—the clean apartment, the self-care rituals, the careful curation of consumption—aligns more naturally with the visual language that female influencers have already developed around cooking, tidying, and personal wellness.
Phil Lane, a psychotherapist based in the United States, recently posted a direct challenge to these creators on Instagram. "Loneliness influencers, stop trying to make loneliness as an aesthetic happen," he wrote. "It is important that we are around our fellow human beings. It's one of our basic human needs." He acknowledged that solitude has value, that time alone can be restorative. But he warned against the logic that treats isolation as a permanent solution, a lifestyle rather than a season. His post received approximately 900 views. The loneliness influencers, meanwhile, continue to accumulate followers in the millions, their videos watched by young people who may be struggling to distinguish between the performance of peace and the reality of it.
Notable Quotes
It was never supposed to romanticize having no friends. I just happened to start filming and show the current chapter of my life, which was the peace that came after I dealt with my feelings.— Lana Isa, Toronto-based influencer
Loneliness influencers, stop trying to make loneliness as an aesthetic happen. It is important that we are around our fellow human beings. It's one of our basic human needs.— Phil Lane, US psychotherapist
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