Martha Stewart paved the way for influencers. But not everyone finds her brand empowering
- Written by: Di Yang, Doctoral student, School of Economics, Finance, and Marketing, RMIT University
From showing us how to cook the perfect turkey to mastering the art of folding a fitted sheet, Martha Stewart’s name has long been a byword for doing things well at home – “how very ‘Martha Stewart’ of you”.
New Netflix documentary, Martha, promises insights into her extraordinary life – from a teenage model to the original influencer and America’s first self-made female billionaire, with a prison stay and friendship with Snoop Dogg along the way.
Behind the expertly folded linens and immaculately set tables lies something more.
Martha Stewart created a brand empire that redefined the domestic lifestyle, monetised it and paved the way for others.
Beginnings and barriers
Stewart’s connection to the domestic arts began early.
Raised in New Jersey, she learned essential homemaking skills like cooking and sewing from her mother, while her father introduced her to gardening.
She studied art and architectural history yet Stewart started her career as a stockbroker. But her passion for the domestic realm led her to entrepreneurship.
As she once reflected, “the life of the homemaker was more interesting to me than the life of Wall Street”.
In 1972, she launched a catering business from the suburbs of Connecticut. It soon gained recognition for its elegant food presentations. A publisher client led to her 1982 book, Entertaining. It included notes for how to prepare a clambake for 30, a cocktail party for 200 and ranked presentation as highly as the food itself.
Book success sealed a partnership with Kmart in 1987 and eventually took her homewares brand into millions of American homes.
By 1999, she took her company, Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia (which encompassed her television show, magazines, websites and merchandising product lines) public, becoming America’s first self-made female billionaire – albeit momentarily.
A few years later, Stewart was embroiled in scandal. She received a five-month prison sentence for insider trading and obstruction of justice. Many expected this to mark the end of her career – but Stewart defied the odds.
Breaking new ground
After her release from prison, she didn’t shy away from her past. Instead, she continued sharing skills including those she honed during her time at prison camp – whether it was crocheting or experimenting with new recipes. As always, Stewart seized every opportunity to expand her brand.
Her genius lies in her ability to “sense a void in the culture” and turn a personal touch into commercial success.
Since selling her namesake brand, Stewart has stayed in the spotlight, sometimes sharing it with rapper Snoop Dogg. The unlikely duo struck up a seemingly genuine friendship that produced a television potluck series, appearances and prison jokes.
She continues to connect with millions of followers on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, where her long-term influence is perhaps most evident.
The OG influencer
Stewart’s living legacy is unmistakable in today’s digital world. Scrolling through social media, you’ll find traces of her in meticulously arranged tablescapes or perfectly organised cabinets.
Popular “cleanfluencers” like Mrs Hinch and Australia’s Mama Mila have built massive followings by turning domestic tasks into visually captivating content.
Minimalist tidy maven Marie Kondo took the world by storm, with her philosophy of keeping only what “sparks joy”. Her global brand follows Stewart’s signature collection model. Stewart’s clean and white aesthetic and multichannel branding can be seen in Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop too.
When housework is repackaged as life-changing and transformative, it transcends private duty to become a public, respected and potentially profitable business.
But is this feminism?
Yet, the rise of domestic lifestyle influencers also raises critical questions in feminist circles.
As far back as Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, published in 1949, housework has been seen as part of the trap of domestic femininity.
Figures like Stewart may represent success stories in economic terms. But their ventures risk reinforcing the stereotype that homemaking is inherently women’s work, often packaged alongside an ever-growing array of consumer products designed to perfect it.
Stewart’s vision of domestic success – immaculate homes, flawless dinners, and perfect organisation – sets a standard that is unattainable for most. Scholars argue her media empire presents an upper-class fantasy, where the appearance of a wealthy lifestyle is emphasised over the reality of it.
Focusing on domesticity is not inherently regressive, but what happens when the standards of success are too high to reach?
The “solution” is often hidden in the consumerism trap, with women endlessly buying goods to chase an idealised lifestyle.
Stewart’s embrace of perfectionism fuelled her success. In her words, “being a perfectionist can be profitable”. Yet for women and consumers, the pursuit of “Martha Stewartness” often feels out of reach.
Martha is streaming on Netflix from today.
Authors: Di Yang, Doctoral student, School of Economics, Finance, and Marketing, RMIT University
Daily Bulletin
