The authenticity trap

I came back from my summer vacation in Italy with a strange feeling about authenticity. While in Milan, two Italian friends insisted on taking my husband and me to a pizzeria. "Just don't tell anyone we brought you here," they laughed. "Italians don't go to places like this."

The restaurant was called Crazy Pizza, and in many ways it was exactly what a foreign visitor might imagine an Italian pizzeria to be. Loud music. Pizza makers spinning (fake) dough through the air. Guests cheering while waving napkins above their heads. Everything seemed carefully designed to match what many visitors hope an Italian evening will feel like.

A few days later we were in Rome, where I lived for many years. I spent hours walking through neighborhoods that had once been part of my everyday life, taking my husband to cafés where I used to meet friends and restaurants I loved twenty-five years ago.

Many are still there, but they felt different. Vintage Fiat 500 convertibles now cruise through the streets carrying tourists. Osterias seem carefully curated to look effortlessly authentic. Even the smallest details appear designed to deliver the Rome people came looking for.

And yet, looking around, everyone seemed genuinely happy. People were laughing, celebrating and creating memories they will probably treasure for years. Their experience was every bit as real as mine had been all those years ago.

That's when I realized my disappointment wasn't really about Rome. It was about what happens when authenticity becomes valuable.

The moment enough people want something because it feels genuine, someone packages it. Someone recommends it. Someone monetizes it. Eventually, authenticity becomes the product.

Instagram and TikTok didn't create our desire for authentic experiences. They simply became incredibly efficient at distributing them. A hidden restaurant becomes a destination. A quiet beach becomes a hotspot. A neighbourhood café becomes a "must visit". Every recommendation carries the seeds of its own disappearance.

The same paradox is playing out in branding.

Consumers increasingly ask for authentic brands. Companies respond by manufacturing authenticity. Founder stories. Handwritten labels. Imperfect photography. Heritage collections. Local ingredients. None of these things are wrong. But authenticity stops being authenticity the moment it becomes a formula.

Perhaps authenticity is more like trust or reputation. It can never be built by pursuing it directly. It emerges as the consequence of doing other things well.

Ironically, authenticity may be one of the few things we consume by destroying it.

How can Innate Motion help?

At Innate Motion, we believe authenticity isn't something a brand should perform. It's something people should experience.

We help organizations uncover the human truths that make them genuinely distinctive, define a positioning rooted in those truths rather than in marketing conventions, and build cultures where employees consistently bring that promise to life. Because the strongest brands don't try to look authentic. They create experiences that make authenticity impossible to fake.

P.S. Want your business to feel more human and make a bigger impact? Let’s fix that! Book a free 30-minute consultation and let’s tackle your biggest or smallest business challenge together.

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