Is Mystery the New Flex?

What the rise of digital mystery says about status, influence, and modern culture.

A few years ago, the blueprint to going viral or getting "famous" was pretty simple: share everything. The more you put out there, the more people you engage, the more they felt invested in your life, and the more they followed along. It was the era of total transparency.

Alix Earle, Emma Chamberlain, Indy Clinton—these are the faces of oversharing, but even before them, came reality TV stars. The Kardashians built a billion-dollar empire off twenty seasons of inviting us into their homes, their drama, their relationships. But even that wasn’t enough. People started taking us into their bedrooms, their bathrooms, their first dates, their exam prep, their diets, their fitness routines, their marriages, their gender reveals, their birthing suites. And at some point, you have to ask: is this normal?

To be completely honest with you? I don’t really think so. It’s all a bit much now.

Naturally, this era is running its course. Oversharing is no longer the golden ticket. We used to be obsessed with knowing everything about everyone. But now, as digital fatigue sets in, privacy concerns grow, and cultural values shift toward exclusivity, we find ourselves drawn to those who say less and reveal selectively. Now? The people who say the least seem to hold the most power.

Is mystery the new flex? And if so, what does that say about status, influence, and the way we navigate the digital world?

Melissa’s Wardrobe: The Blueprint for Digital Mystery

Melissa Holdbrook-Akposoe—better known as Melissa’s Wardrobe—is the epitome of curated mystery. Her infamous hashtag (and Stormzy’s song) Mel Made Me Do It tells you everything you need to know: her influence is undeniable. A celebrity fashion stylist, beauty expert, and interior decorator, she has perfected the art of balancing visibility with exclusivity.

I was recently asked who my favourite influencer was, and after a moment’s thought, I answered: Melissa’s Wardrobe. Why? Because she embodies incredible taste, aspirational content, personability, and humour—all while maintaining an enviable level of privacy. She shares just enough to keep you engaged: 30+ Instagram stories covering Real Housewives reactions, shopping hauls, GRWM videos, and of course, her impeccable recommendations. Yet, despite this accessibility, she keeps her personal life firmly off-limits.

When she got engaged, people were shocked to even learn she was in a relationship. No one has seen her wedding photos beyond the few she chose to share. She was pregnant, gave birth, and even went on maternity leave—all without the public knowing until she decided it was time. Mel has mastered selective access. She gives us plenty, yet never too much, leaving her audience feeling satisfied but always intrigued. It’s a perfect balance—abundant, fun, and entirely on her terms.

The Olsen Twins - The original architects of Mystery

Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen didn’t just grow up in the public eye—they defined an era of celebrity culture. But as child stars turned fashion moguls, they did something no one expected: they disappeared. Not from success, but from the spotlight.

Unlike their peers who leaned into social media and constant visibility, the Olsen twins built their empire in silence. Their luxury fashion label, The Row, embodies the same ethos—understated, refined, and completely inaccessible. They don’t do press runs, rarely give interviews, and have zero online presence. They show up when they want to, in oversized coats, messy hair, and sunglasses that seem to shield them from the world. And yet, their absence only fuels the intrigue.

They’ve mastered the art of making people want to know more. No Instagram, no oversharing, no curated glimpses into their personal lives. They offer nothing but their work—and somehow, that makes them even more compelling. In a world where everyone is fighting for attention, the Olsen twins remain proof that the ultimate flex is to opt out entirely.

Gstaad Guy / Cousin Colton: The Satirical Gatekeeper of Exclusivity

Gstaad Guy—aka Cousin Colton—is what happens when mystery and exclusivity meet satire. He’s a persona, a caricature of old-money European elitism, but with a level of real-world access that keeps people hooked. Unlike influencers who rely on personal oversharing, his content is built on the allure of being in on the joke.

The joke, of course, being that he perfectly embodies the thing he’s parodying. His brand is Swiss chalets, St. Moritz ski trips, cigars, and La Dolce Vita levels of extravagance. He rarely reveals too much about his real life, instead curating an aesthetic that feels aspirational, untouchable, and effortlessly cool.

His power lies in the illusion of access—he makes you feel like you’re getting an inside look into a world that isn’t meant to be shared. But there are limits. You’ll never see an overly personal confession or an unfiltered moment. He operates on exclusivity: if you get it, you get it. If you don’t, you weren’t meant to.

And that’s the ultimate flex.

At the core of exclusivity is demand—people want what they can’t have. If I don’t offer up every little detail of my life, you’re naturally more invested in what I do choose to share.

Selective access = higher status. The less you reveal, the more valuable your presence becomes.

Controlled narrative = controlled perception. You dictate what people see and what they project onto you.

The illusion of intimacy. Share just enough to make people think they know you, while keeping them at a comfortable distance.

In an age where attention is currency, controlling your narrative is the ultimate status symbol. Those who master selective access aren’t just avoiding oversharing—they’re elevating themselves above the noise. If the last era of digital culture was about being seen, this one is about being sought after.

I think about how this applies to my own life. I have a small TikTok following and am obviously sharing here on Substack, but I have firm boundaries on parts of my life I don’t and won’t share—my family, my romantic relationships, my faith for the most part as these are things I see to be sacred. In my personal life, though, I am quite the open book. I share a lot with my friends, and I’m not particularly mysterious or vague. If it’s a nonchalant-off, I fear I will be losing. I am quite the opposite of that.

That being said, a goal of mine at the beginning of the year was to share less and keep more to myself. The older I get, and the more of myself I put out on the internet, the more I crave pockets of privacy in my life. Perhaps, in a world that rewards mystery, the greatest luxury is knowing when to hold something back.

With Love,

Mufaro