Daisy Schofield

The internet's commodification of activism has made us forget that the wealthy and famous are not our comrades.

TikTok's cottage beauty industry has introduced an even younger generation to an age-old fear: the passage of time.

Young people are discovering the dating manuals that had a hold over everyone's relationships two decades ago.

When did trying to get someone fired become an acceptable form of retribution for a stranger on the internet?

When we use technology to surveil each other’s behaviour, we transform our personal and romantic lives into a sad public spectacle.

Relying on the internet for your own mental health diagnoses – and diagnosing those you don't know – sets a worrying precedent for the future.

Deinfluencing is nothing more than a way for content creators to tap into the anxiety of economic precarity in order to be relatable.

On TikTok, creators are opening up about their negative experiences with online mental health care.

The internet's obsession with Ozempic feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

As Twitter burns, let’s not overlook the harmful culture of disordered eating as synonymous with the platform as indie sleaze and Lana Del Rey.

Across the UK findoms are struggling as the economy lurches towards recession.

In our post-gossip magazine era, the appetite for seeing celebrities looking ‘imperfect’ is alive and well, only now, it’s sated on social media.