# People Magazine Just Reminded Us All That We’re Basically NPCs in Someone Else’s Highlight Reel
Look, I don’t want to sound like a bitter incel who just got ratio’d on Twitter, but People Magazine has officially hit a new level of “okay, we get it, you’re better than us.” Their latest issue—I’m not even kidding—is literally just a 112-page flex on the fact that some humans exist without crippling student loan debt, a nicotine addiction, or a burning desire to microwave gas station burritos at 2 AM. Cool. Cool cool cool.
So here’s the deal: People just dropped their annual “Most Beautiful” list, and surprise surprise, it’s a bunch of genetically blessed celebrities who probably wake up looking like they just stepped out of a L’Oréal commercial while the rest of us wake up looking like a raccoon that lost a bar fight. But this year, they took it to a whole new level of “we don’t even know who you are anymore.” They included, I shit you not, a 73-year-old actress who hasn’t been relevant since the Reagan administration, a guy who plays a vampire on a show your mom watches, and someone named “Lizzo” who I’m pretty sure is a brand of gluten-free crackers.
And the internet, being the absolute cesspool of hot takes that it is, immediately exploded. Twitter was on fire faster than my air fryer when I forget to clean the crumbs. People were out here posting think pieces like “Why is my ex’s new girlfriend on the cover?” and “I’ve never even heard of half these people, and I’m chronically online.” Honestly, same energy. I spend 14 hours a day scrolling through Reddit and I still had to Google half the list. I felt like my grandma trying to figure out what a “TikTok” is.
But here’s the real kicker, the part that actually made me snort-laugh into my third cup of lukewarm gas station coffee: People Magazine’s editor-in-chief actually said, and I quote, “This year, we wanted to celebrate a more diverse and inclusive definition of beauty.” Oh, cool, so now they’re virtue signaling about cheekbones? That’s like me saying I’m a “more inclusive” pizza topping because I added pineapple. It’s still pizza, Karen. It’s still a curated list of people who have personal chefs, skincare routines that cost more than my rent, and enough disposable income to hire a therapist who doesn’t just tell them to “touch grass.”
Let’s be real for a second. The “Most Beautiful” list is the magazine industry’s equivalent of a participation trophy for people who already won the genetic lottery. It’s like giving a gold medal to a cheetah for being fast. No shit, Sharon. We get it. The problem is that we, the unwashed masses, keep buying into it. We click the link, we scroll the gallery, we seethe with quiet resentment, and then we post a screenshot with a caption like “Unpopular opinion but [insert name] is overrated.” And then we go back to our lives of microwaving that burrito.
The worst part? The comments section on their Instagram post was an absolute war crime. It was a mix of “Queen!!!!” from bots and “Who?” from people like me who have the emotional maturity of a damp napkin. One person actually wrote, “This is so refreshing to see real beauty.” Real beauty? Brother, that woman has a full-time team of makeup artists, lighting techs, and probably a guy whose only job is to fan her hair in the wind. “Real beauty” is me in a hoodie at 7:45 AM trying to find my car keys. Don’t gaslight me.
And let’s not forget the annual tradition of “How dare they not include [insert random celebrity who was in one Marvel movie]?” The entitlement is staggering. People act like being left off the list is a personal insult, like People Magazine personally kicked their dog. Newsflash: You are not on the list. I am not on the list. The guy who runs the bodega on the corner is not on the list. We are all part of the great unlisted. The unnamed. The average. And you know what? That’s fine. I’d rather have a functioning liver and a 401(k) than a spray tan and a publicist.
But the real question is: Why do we care? Why do we, as a society, still give a single solitary shit about what People Magazine thinks is beautiful? It’s 2024. We have the internet. We can curate our own lists of beautiful people. I have a list. It’s called “people who return their shopping carts to the corral.” That’s real beauty. That’s a person who has their life together.
Honestly, the only thing more predictable than the People Magazine list is the backlash to the list. It’s like clockwork. The list drops. Everyone freaks out. The hot takes fly. Then we all forget about it until next year when we do it all over again. It’s the Groundhog Day of celebrity journalism. And we’re all just living in it, like bugs under a magnifying glass, getting roasted by the sun of our own collective insecurity.
So here’s my AITA take: People Magazine is not the problem. We are. We keep giving them clicks. We keep buying the issues. We keep posting the screenshots. We are the ones who decided that a magazine from the 1970s still holds any cultural relevance. We are the ones who act like being called “beautiful” by a corporation is an actual achievement. It’s not. It’s marketing. It’s a way to sell ad space for face cream and diet plans.
But you know what? I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed. Mostly in myself for writing 800 words about a magazine list that will be forgotten by Tuesday. But hey, it’s a slow news day. The economy is on fire
Final Thoughts
Having covered the industry for years, it’s clear that *People* magazine’s enduring power isn’t just its celebrity access, but its uncanny ability to mirror the cultural moment—balancing frothy escapism with genuine human-interest gravitas. What strikes me most is how the outlet has survived the fragmentation of media by doubling down on its core ethos: that a well-told story about a private struggle or quiet triumph can still resonate louder than any algorithm-driven headline. Ultimately, *People* reminds us that in an age of digital chaos, the appetite for authentic, relatable narratives isn't fading—it’s simply finding new, more intimate ways to be told.