a study of comparison: in an always-online age
A Psych 101 on Social Comparison & the Internet
Welcome to class. I’ll be your very Gen-Z, very funny, very educated psych teacher for the day. Please take your seats, coffee in hand, and open your journal, notebook, or notes app…
Here’s our background music of the day:
Today’s lecture? The Social Comparison Theory. By the time we’re done, you’ll walk out with a new understanding of why we compare ourselves to other people, and maybe even how to flip that mirror in your favor (I hope). I’ll be breaking this down in the context of our modern world; what comparison looks like today, and how it shows up in the way we live, scroll, and define ourselves.
Usually, my dossiers are a mix of modern muses, archetypes, and a little psych tossed in. But today, we’re going full syllabus. Actual, actual psychology.
So…who came up with this theory?
The man, the myth, the legend… Leon Festinger.
Festinger was a mid-century psychologist who essentially concluded that humans are naturally curious by design. In 1954, he wrote The Social Comparison Theory, arguing that we can’t figure out who we are without glancing sideways at other people. If you’ve ever scrolled and thought, Am I doing enough? Well, congrats, you’re already living inside his theory.
And he wasn’t a one-hit wonder. Festinger also gave us the iconic concept of cognitive dissonance: that itchy, uncomfortable feeling when your actions don’t line up with your beliefs. The reason you tell yourself you’ll “just check TikTok for five minutes” and then hate yourself an hour later.
He spent his career proving what we all secretly know: people define themselves through others, and they will bend reality to keep their self-image consistent. In short, Festinger studied the psychology of why we compare, why we contradict ourselves, and why we’ll do mental gymnastics to protect our egos.
If he were alive today, he’d probably be shocked to see millions of points of comparison compressed into a single little device in our hands, just waiting to suck the joy and positivity out of our day.
Every girl carries a mirror, and rarely is it her own. It’s shaped by glances, likes, comments, whispers, and scrolling. You look at another girl and instantly measure yourself against her. Maybe it’s the way her outfit appears so effortless. Maybe it’s her seemingly perfect relationship. Maybe it’s something as small as the glow of her skin under a bathroom light.
But the question remains: why do we compare at all?
The answer is surprisingly simple. In 1954, Leon Festinger argued that humans cannot define themselves in isolation. Identity is not a self-contained truth. It flickers into shape only when placed beside another.
And if that was true in the mid-century, it is even more suffocatingly true now. In today’s digital world, we don’t get to isolate. Comparisons arrive whether we invite them or not. Scrolling through Instagram, TikTok, Twitter (I refuse to call it X), or even Substack, everywhere we turn, comparison waits.
Festinger’s world was one of magazines, office hierarchies, and neighborhood gossip. Our world is one of infinite feeds and endless doomscrolling. TikTok, Pinterest, Instagram; each has become a cathedral of comparison, where archetypes and aesthetics perform like saints on altars.
Even here, on Substack, you see it. How many notes spiral into questions of why a post didn’t get the likes, the comments, the recognition the writer hoped for? Festinger would argue it’s inevitable. When there is no objective way to measure “good writing” or “valuable thought,” we measure sideways, through applause. The number beneath the post becomes the mirror, reflecting back a sense of worth or lack of it.
The Pilates Princess. The Shabby Chic. The Coastal Granddaughter. These aren’t just playful names; they are measuring sticks. Each trend is less about individuality and more about the yardstick it provides.
Aesthetics are fun until they start to feel like a chore, something you must constantly maintain to keep up. Trends are fun until your favorite influencer buys the newest “it” product, and suddenly you’re hit with that sting of FOMO. You wish, deep down, that you could slip into her life.
But what you’re seeing on social media is not real life. Influencers only show the most carefully curated versions of themselves, the highlight reels.
Critical Thinking Time…Do you really believe they would hand you the raw, unedited worst moments? No.
Their influence depends on being slightly out of reach, just close enough to inspire you, but far enough to remind you that you’ll never fully have what they do. That distance is the secret ingredient that keeps them powerful.
And here is where Festinger’s theory comes back into play. He argued that people rely on comparison not only to define who they are, but also to judge what is attainable. When we see someone we believe we can realistically match, comparison motivates us. But when we see someone who feels impossibly far away, comparison corrodes us. Social media collapses those two categories together.
Every scroll you take blends the girl you could become with the girl you will never be. And the psyche doesn’t always know the difference.
Consider the aesthetic of the “Pilates Princess”. She arrives on your screen at nine in the morning, though her day began at five. By the time you open TikTok, she has already completed her affirmations, written in her journal, attended her reformer class, did her 10-step skincare routine, took her intricate lists of vitamins, balanced her matcha in one hand and her Goyard tote in the other, and still somehow cooked a perfectly healthy breakfast before moving on with her day.
Every moment has been carefully documented, each step of her perfectly crafted morning routine schedule stitched together into a seamless reel. She makes it look effortless, almost choreographed (and it usually is!).
The act of curation makes it feel more achievable and more impossible at the same time, a polished proof that someone out there is not only doing it all, but doing it beautifully enough to broadcast.
Two responses emerge.
Subject A: pauses, and in the loud silence of that pause comes comparison. Confidence drops, intrusive thoughts creep in, and suddenly she feels like a failure. All because she didn’t wake up at five or glide through life like it was Pilates. The comparison crushes her and her self-worth.
Subject B: pauses, too, but the comparison ignites and fuels her. She signs up for a reformer class, orders matcha even though she once swore it was gross, buys a new serum, and pulls out a fresh journal. The comparison actually became her fuel and motivation, and pushed her to want to improve her life.
We measure ourselves against others not just to define who we are, but to move closer to who we want to be. Comparison is uncomfortable, but it is also instructive. It teaches us what we lack, and in some cases, what we might dare to become.
Festinger believed there is no life beyond comparison, only choices in how we frame it.
If Festinger believed that comparison is human, then it is not something to be eliminated. It is something to be embraced. To compare is not a flaw; it is a feature of being alive. Someone will always have more, if you even want to perceive it that way: more beauty, more success, more friends, more access. The point is not to deny this. The point is to decide how you will respond.
Instead of letting comparison consume you, redirect it inward. Ask what it reveals about yourself. What qualities do you already hold that you overlook? What parts of your life are abundant, though you rarely pause to notice? The comparison does not have to be a verdict; it can be used as motivation.
When you catch yourself spiraling into thoughts of why can’t I have this, why is her life so perfect, how did she do that—I could never; stop and dissolve them. Evaporate them. Then choose to see comparison not as an accusation, but as an invitation.
Comparison will never disappear. But you can decide whether it traps you in the cycle of envy, or whether it becomes fuel for your own growth.
Festinger argued that identity is comparative. What he could not have predicted is how infinite those comparisons would become in the digital age.
Yet the principle remains: to compare is human, or to collapse under comparison is optional.
This was such a fun read. You tied Festinger to the endless scroll so well, and the Pilates Princess example made me laugh,, it’s so real. I like how you flipped comparison from something toxic into something we can actually use!
I love to view comparison as a blueprint for what is possible. It becomes inspiring that way. Like an image in a collage that makes up my vision board ♥️