Recently, several friends and I debated why the MLB has fallen out of favor. The consensus was that audiences are losing patience with the slower nature of the game, especially as compared to football or basketball. However one member of the group put forth a different perspective on its decline: the MLB doesn’t currently have a headline star. Leagues need a paradigmatic hero who can draw attention to and drive value for the overall franchise; the NBA has LeBron James, the NFL has Tom Brady, and the PGA has Tiger Woods (and so on and so forth). Many people turn on the game to watch LeBron, not the Lakers – the difference is subtle but important.
As we tugged this thread, we discovered the same principle can be more broadly applied – to social platforms or brands, for instance. Kim Kardashian has, in a way, come to represent Instagram, Charli D’Amelio to represent TikTok, or Mr. Beast to represent YouTube. These individuals have become the de facto “face” of the very platforms that propelled their rise. And as for a brand like Nike, it's hard to imagine it without Jordan. Every “franchise” needs a star.
So if today’s zeitgeist puts individuals at the forefront, where sports leagues, platforms, and even brands can have figureheads, it stands to reason that whole consumer categories can too.
Top creators, who are deeply embedded in their niches, achieve intense consumer association with their vertical. Alexandra Botez has it in chess, Kevin Espiritu in gardening, and Andrew Huberman in supplementation and vitality. When modern audiences want to consume, learn, or buy something in a category, they often start with the creator who owns it. Instead of googling the top remedies or asking a friend for a recommendation to combat insomnia, consumers are turning first to Andrew Huberman’s sleep protocol, as he has emerged as the leader in the space.
For top vertical creators, this dynamic introduces a compelling economic opportunity. But as a single individual operating in a large category, how do they scale their empire efficiently? One solution: creators as franchisors.
Top creators can offer knowledge, operational expertise, and a larger brand platform to smaller creators in exchange for their “local” audiences and a small percent of revenue. Whereas the larger creator stands to benefit from low-cost acquisition through new audience pools, the smaller creators enjoy the platform’s visibility and don’t have to stand up operations from scratch. This model becomes even more compelling in a world where a creator’s CAC advantage may inevitably plateau.
There are also tailwinds to support this. In fact, Kevin Espiritu suggested that the “creator economy is slowly transitioning to the ‘bundling’ phase of its life cycle,” where those who aren’t at the top should join forces with the leader.
Though a helpful analog, the traditional franchise framework is, in many ways, different from the creator franchise model. Most top creators may only have a handful of “franchisees” instead of hundreds or thousands, and they will likely look more like design partners than executors. Creator franchises will also have their own set of commercial and economic considerations/standards between the two parties. The details of these structures are difficult to predict, in part because they will vary across creators and categories. Conforming to a “playbook” runs counter to the very thing creators are best at, and we believe savvy creators can take inspiration from the structure and adapt it to capture significant value in their respective niches.
An exploration into individual- and creator-first companies: how they are built, underwritten, and financed. From the Slow Ventures Team, Sam Lessin, Megan Lightcap, and Caroline Cline.