Borough Market Clash Sparks Influencer Backlash

Published: 12 November 2025. The English Chronicle Desk. The English Chronicle Online

It was perhaps inevitable. After years of free meals, glowing posts, and endless ring lights, restaurants are finally beginning to rebel against the very machine they helped create. Like Frankenstein’s monster, the influencer economy was assembled piece by piece by the hospitality industry itself — nurtured, fed, and celebrated — until it grew too large, too entitled, and too uncontrollable to contain.

The flashpoint arrived last week at London’s iconic Borough Market, where a food vlogger was removed mid-recording. The incident, captured on video, spread rapidly across social media. In the clip, Gerry del Guercio, one half of the food review duo Bite Twice, is seen sampling an apple and cinnamon crumble with his friend when a security guard interrupts to stop their filming. Del Guercio appears bewildered. “Are we being kicked out of Borough Market?” he asks, his confusion caught on camera.

The video, filmed earlier this year using only a smartphone, shows none of the trappings typically associated with influencer production — no ring lights, no microphones, no brand deals. Just two friends chatting about their dessert. But it sparked a fierce debate about whether Borough Market had gone too far, or whether influencers themselves had finally worn out their welcome.

In response, Borough Market clarified that it has not imposed a blanket ban on filming. Instead, it enforces long-standing rules requiring prior permission for any commercial recording — a policy that covers social media creators as well as professional film crews. Anyone planning to record content for promotional or monetised purposes must apply for approval in advance and carry written consent while filming. Weekend filming is prohibited altogether due to safety and congestion concerns, as the market sees around 55,000 visitors a day.

From the market’s perspective, the rule is as much about practicality as control. Tripods, gimbals, and crowded aisles filled with sizzling food and hot oil pose a real hazard. But for many online viewers, the sight of a vlogger being stopped mid-bite symbolised something larger — a tension between creative freedom and commercial regulation, between the public character of the market and the private authority that governs it.

Traders themselves are split. In interviews following the controversy, some voiced frustration at the flood of influencers who come more to film than to buy. “A lot of people just come here to extract from the market,” one trader told the Evening Standard. “If people are genuinely here to contribute, buy produce, and interact with traders, that’s great — but not everyone is.”

Others, however, see influencers as a necessary part of modern business. A well-placed TikTok video can drive a surge of customers in days. Yet the reality on the ground is often messy — crowded stalls, obstructed customers, and performers chasing content at the expense of courtesy. A few traders reportedly declined to comment at all, wary of alienating either side of the divide.

This is not the first time hospitality venues have drawn the line. Dorian, a well-known Notting Hill restaurant, has famously refused to accommodate influencers altogether, rejecting offers of “exposure” in exchange for free meals. Across the Atlantic, cafes in New York and Paris have implemented similar bans after complaints about flashing lights and endless monologues performed for the camera.

The backlash marks a cultural shift. Just a few years ago, being featured on TikTok was considered a golden ticket to viral fame — a moment that could transform a small business overnight. Now, that exposure can just as easily provoke ridicule or resentment, particularly when influencers appear entitled or intrusive.

The irony is unmistakable. The influencer phenomenon didn’t emerge in a vacuum. The hospitality industry itself laid the groundwork, inviting content creators into kitchens, designing dishes to be “Instagrammable,” and even structuring interior decor around the perfect selfie angle. Restaurants traded ambience for aesthetics, mystery for visibility. They built their fame on social media’s appetite for spectacle — and now they are discovering that the spectacle has its own appetite.

At its core, the Borough Market dispute raises a question that goes beyond one video or one venue: who owns the experience of dining? Once you’ve paid for your food, do you not have the right to document it? Restaurants and markets live in a paradox — they thrive on being seen, yet they also crave control over how they are seen. In an era when nearly everyone carries a high-definition camera in their pocket, those boundaries have all but dissolved.

Technology has blurred the line between diner and documentarian. A decade ago, influencers were a niche group. Today, anyone with a smartphone and an account can reach thousands, even millions, with a few seconds of footage. A short clip of a cheesemonger slicing Comté or a baker glazing croissants might seem harmless — but at scale, that content fuels a billion-dollar digital ecosystem.

The deeper question is whether the hospitality industry can coexist peacefully with the culture it helped spawn. Restaurants and markets depend on attention. They need to be talked about, photographed, and shared to survive in a hypercompetitive city like London. But the unfiltered chaos of social media — with its unpredictable virality and relentless demand for new content — can undermine the very atmosphere that makes these spaces special.

Many venues are now experimenting with middle-ground solutions: designated filming zones, limited time slots, or simple requests for respect and discretion. Others have taken the opposite route, banning filming altogether to reclaim a sense of privacy and calm. Neither approach fully resolves the dilemma, because the modern customer is also a broadcaster.

For now, Borough Market insists that it remains open to creators — provided they follow the rules. Yet the incident has ignited a broader conversation about the balance between openness and order, authenticity and spectacle. As the influencer economy matures, hospitality may need to reinvent its relationship with visibility, learning to set boundaries without alienating the very audience it depends on.

After all, as Mary Shelley’s cautionary tale reminds us, every creation comes with consequences. The hospitality industry’s digital “monster” — once a source of fame and fortune — now walks on its own, ring light in hand, searching for the next viral bite.