As a tried and true middle child with both older and younger siblings, I’ve been the accuser and accused of “copying.” Even when the copyrighted item in question was something I couldn’t really own (like loving one particular musical that shall not be named) because I felt I did it first, it was for me and nobody else. That type of petty sister fight is exactly what’s going on between beefing influencers Sydney Gifford and Alyssa Sheil.
Sydney is suing Alyssa for stealing her aesthetic, which can be most simply summed up as clean girl 101. But can you actually sue someone for a bitch stole my look moment? Was Sydney’s style even unique enough to copy? These are all the questions I needed to find out when investigating the Sydney Gifford vs. Alyssa Sheil “clean girl” vibes lawsuit.
The Sydney Gifford And Alyssa Sheil Lawsuit, Explained
Why is Sydney suing Alyssa?
Sydney Gifford, who posts under the handle @sydneynicoleslone on TikTok, where she has over 6ooK followers, is suing @alyssasheill for copying her aesthetic on social media. Sydney copyrighted several of her social media posts in January, after noticing the similarity between the two’s content, according to the New York Times.
Sydney believes Alyssa altered not only what she wears and thus promotes online but also her literal image, from her hair color to her body language, to make herself look just like Sydney (so much so that Sydney claims fans scrolling on TikTok have been getting the two confused). This confusion has allegedly been drawing clicks away from Sydney’s page, which she uses as her livelihood through sharing linked products, mostly on her Amazon storefront, therefore negatively impacting Sydney’s spon con business.
Who copied who?
Did Alyssa copy Sydney? It’s hard to say. The lawsuit includes compelling side-by-side evidence that Sydney used to point out times when Alyssa promoted the same clothing and home goods in a strikingly similar visual style to videos Sydney had already shared. She argues that the two were casual online mutuals who met up and tried to strike a friendship. But after Alyssa fell off the map post meet-up, Sydney interpreted that Alyssa had maliciously formed a plan to copy her hair color and started posting the allegedly copied content.
The gray area arises when you consider that the clothing items are things like off-white sweaters, the furniture is a handful of beige WFH classics, and the copied hair color is dark brown. Did Alyssa really copy Sydney, or did she just run with the basic bitch (sorry, ladies) vibe of the moment, like many others? That’s what the court is trying to figure out. So far, The New York Times reports that Alyssa’s motion to dismiss has been partially denied but partially accepted, which means Sydney’s copyright argument is strong enough to take this whole little clean girl mess to court.
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Can you copyright an internet trend?
Can anyone truly copyright an internet trend? Just ask Jules about her “demure, mindful” trademark battle. If you put something viral out into the world, you can only do so much to stop how it evolves into a pop culture moment. Unlike pre-21st century, being a main character on the internet can now come with a hefty dollar sign. People who pop off in the comments have had their words cemented in internet history, and yet they’re not always being compensated for it.
Take Keke Palmer’s podcast, for example. The podcast name, Baby This Is Keke Palmer, comes from viral internet lore where Twitter user @Trixienumba9 made a crude (read: hilarious) joke with a picture of Keke Palmer as the punchline. When someone responded, telling her to take the tweet down because it exploited a photo of their sister who was murdered (???) Trixie corrected the person, famously writing, “Baby, this is Keke Palmer” in response. Years later, Keke referenced the iconic meme more than once and later turned it into podcast inspo.
Did Trixienumab9 catch a bag for her creativity? Not to the public’s knowledge, and to be fair, a picture of Keke Palmer was the origin of the joke in the first place. As with most art (yes, internet memes and podcasts fall under the umbrella of art, especially as it pertains to the law), multiple sources of influence come together in everyone’s work literally all the time. There’s a thin line between taking inspiration and stealing someone’s IP, but one surefire way to try to avoid a lawsuit is to give credit where possible, like with Olivia Rodrigo’s music mishap. This influencer case, should it go in Sydney’s favor, could make waves on the much newer frontier of online influence.
Even with the trending “demure” trademarked for merch, it still was used in every retailer worth their salt’s online ad campaigns for months (and not to mention, it appeared about 1,000 times on Betches.com). A trend can’t have an impact without us, the mainstream, soaking it up and pushing it further downstream with additive interpretations. Creators need followers to freak out. Otherwise, they won’t have their main character moment. So there’s a lot to be said for “sharing is caring” energy being mutually beneficial not only between a creator and the audience but also between creators themselves, as they amplify and build on each other’s ideas. But as big dollar amounts enter the equation more frequently, there does now seem to be a need for much firmer legal guidance over who owns what and to what extent.
