There was a time when being “a creative” exclusively meant making things; be it writing, painting, designing, building. Now? The definition has expanded. To be a curator is, in many ways, to be a creator too. Assembling a moodboard, crafting a carousel, knowing exactly which It Girl to reference (but not in an obvious way) - it’s all part of the new creative vernacular. Taste, now, is a talent in and of itself.
Curation has replaced creation as the crown jewel of online identity. Through it, you’re not saying this is who I am - you’re saying this is what I like.
Before I go on, I need to acknowledge something important: curators can’t exist without creators. The two are inextricably linked. Not everyone is born to be a designer, an artist, an architect. We can’t all be Alessandro Michele or Zaha Hadid. And that’s okay. The rise of the curator doesn’t diminish the work of those who create - if anything, it’s an ode to them. It’s a recognition of how powerful their work is, not just in its original form, but in the way it resonates, travels, and shapes culture.
Curation is how we carry creation forward. How we give it context, longevity, a second life. I’ll be the first to say I wish I could be the kind of creative who sketches worlds into existence, who builds from raw concept to tangible beauty. I admire them endlessly - those who can make something from scratch and pour their soul into the shape of a chair, a bag, a building, a sentence. But that’s not my calling. My gift, I think, is knowing how to see - how to find beauty, arrange it, reframe it, and offer it back in a way that feels new. That, too, is a kind of creativity.
The truth is, underneath this aesthetic coolness is a big cultural pivot: The internet no longer exclusively rewards originality. It rewards taste.
The rise of the tastemaker economy
From Pinterest girlies to TikTok roundups of “hot girl monthly favourites” content, everyone wants to be the plug now. The source. The moodboard in human form.
Curation is the new credibility. We’ve turned our feeds into galleries, ourselves into luxury concept stores. To be a tastemaker is to be elite… but make it approachable.
Is taste the last true currency?
There’s something democratic about taste. You don’t need a media degree to be influential - you just need to be early, consistent, and have a sense of what feels luxe.
But it’s worth asking: what happens when everyone’s a curator? When feeds blur into the same beige linens, iced matcha, and Loewe bags? Does taste still mean anything if it’s algorithm-approved and universally liked?
I think this is where true taste and character come into play - where curators with a genuine edge, a real sense of intuition, and a deeper understanding of culture begin to stand out. It’s not just about liking the right things - it’s about knowing why they matter, and how to place them in context. The best curators aren’t just aesthetically fluent; they’re emotionally intelligent, historically aware, and quietly subversive. They can spot what’s coming next, not because it’s trending, but because it’s true. And that’s what separates real taste from good timing.
One person doing this especially well - and someone to watch - Cat Spanti founder of KIT. KIT is a bespoke styling, creative, and cultural direction service that offers a tactile modern-day solution to the overwhelming decision fatigue plaguing modern couples . Cat’s approach to curation goes beyond aesthetics; it’s about creating a cohesive narrative that resonates on a personal level. Her work exemplifies how modern curation isn’t just about what looks good, but what feels culturally alive and deeply personal.
Of course, Cat isn’t alone. A new class of digital tastemakers is reshaping what influence looks like by consistently offering something that feels intentional, inspiring, and ahead of the curve. Here are a few more curators worth following, each with a distinct lens and an undeniable knack for knowing what’s next:
@violette_fr
Founder of Violette_FR. Her feed is rich, sensual, and emotionally intelligent - more than beauty, it’s a study in colour, mood, and confident French femininity. She curates beauty as lifestyle.
@lefevrediary
A lesser-known gem, but a masterclass in visual taste. The account reads like a contemporary visual journal - cinematic, textural, and deeply cohesive. Perfect for moodboard obsessives.
@thenotoriouskia
Fashion meets futurism. Kia blends experimental beauty, politics, and aesthetics into a scroll-stopping, culturally relevant feed. Think: Tumblr roots meets editorial edge.
@endlesslyloveclub
Romantic minimalism, redefined. Her content is equal parts dreamscape and scrapbook - handwritten notes, intimate visuals, and curated softness that still feels personal. She also falls into the category of 'started with a moodboard, turned into a brand’ so those who know her from OG days get that she was destined for this!
@moya
Part lifestyle diarist, part slow-living aesthete. Moya curates content that’s equal parts grounded and aspirational. A walk through her feed feels like a well-made zine.
Curation might be the quiet superpower of our time, not loud, not chaotic, but deeply felt. In an endless scroll of sameness, the people who see differently are the ones shaping culture in real time. So, whether you're a creator, a curator, or somewhere in between perhaps the real flex is knowing how to pay attention.
With Love,
Mufaro
I think the “curator” has so much power now because most people are just consumers. To know what you like - to have taste - has become special in itself.
The term ‘curator economy’ is compelling, but is it truly an economy yet? What’s the actual system of value? What holds it stable? What undermines it?
A comparison with luxury is instructive: when signals like discretion, rarity, and judgment are made to serve metrics—output volume, affiliate clicks, follower growth—the internal logic starts to break.
If this is to function as an economy, curation can’t just look like scarcity. It has to confront the tension between meaningful selection and monetized repetition.