Content warning: The following section contains descriptions of self-harm that may be triggering to some readers. If you are experiencing a crisis, help is available. If you’d rather just read about wedding drama on TikTok, skip down to the next subheading!

This week, I witnessed one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever seen unfold online. On Tuesday night, infamous gossip blogger Perez Hilton appeared in a shockingly violent TikTok Live for at least 15 minutes. Some news outlets have referred to what he was doing as an apparent act of self-harm, which kind of downplays it. I’m not going to go into gratuitous detail here, but he was naked and covered in blood while actively and repeatedly injuring himself and expressing his intent to die. It’s inconceivable that TikTok, which uses automated flagging systems, allowed this to go on in front of thousands of viewers—some of whom were certainly children—for as long as it did. A spokesperson told WIRED that a “moderator error” was to blame, which is not a great excuse.

A friend alerted me to this happening via text, and I watched a few seconds of it in videos that were reuploaded to X. Then I read a bunch of descriptions from people on Reddit who had witnessed the livestream. I honestly wished I hadn’t. It was hard to sleep afterward. I couldn’t stop picturing the scene, and I was uneasy in my own apartment, irrationally fearful like after watching a horror movie. People online described feeling traumatized by it.

So it was shocking to wake up the next day and start seeing memes and jokes about the situation, along with a slew of commentary from people who said Hilton “deserved” this because of the abusive way he has long treated celebrities, especially women and girls. Even worse—as people realized that Hilton is the father of three kids, I saw a lot of comments asking why he was “allowed” to have children. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.

It’s undeniably ironic that the same kind of sadistic online media culture that Hilton helped build in the early aughts is now targeting him and his family. Even some of Hilton’s own victims, like Ireland Baldwin, have had a more measured take on the situation. She wrote: “Perez Hilton has publicly humiliated my family for years, sexualized me from a young age, commented on my weight and body (as a child), made unforgivable comments about people in my family, drew j!zz coming out of my mom’s and friend’s mouths, and has always been a despicable human being. But his children deserve better and a healthy father and I am so sad for all of them. I hope he gets the help he needs and heals.”

And I don’t blame people for resurfacing some of the worst things Hilton has done, like posting sexually-explicit paparazzi images of teenage girls to humiliate them and sending violent personal messages to people like Lady Gaga. I myself wrote a nearly-6,000 word deep dive about Hilton’s misogynistic “coverage” of Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni just last year for The Verge. But I worry that the response to this incident is feeding into broader ableism and homophobia well beyond Hilton.

As a non-medical professional who has no insider knowledge of Hilton’s condition, I can’t say for sure what led to the TikTok Live. But earlier this year, he described having sepsis after he took flu medication on an empty stomach, leading to a weeks-long hospitalization. Shortly after that, he began talking about religion in a really uncharacteristic and concerning way. Sepsis can have severe psychiatric consequences. When I saw what happened this week, that was my first thought. People online saying Hilton did this for attention or that he had control of his decision-making throughout? Probably not.

When you put this into the context of mental and physical health, people saying it’s a form of “karma” is messed up. Psychosis, illness, self-harm, and disability aren’t a form of punishment for misdeeds. Dr. Jess Rauchberg, who has a forthcoming book on how ableism and eugenics fuel social media culture, made a video explaining how the reaction to Hilton fits into a long, shameful history of treating people with disabilities as entertainment and spectacle. You don’t have to forgive Hilton to see that this rhetoric plays right into that ableist culture. I also think it trivializes the impact of that night on everyone watching the livestream and on Hilton’s family and children, who are going through hell right now and can see all of this commentary.

Speaking of Hilton’s kids, one of the most troubling aspects of this conversation are the people suggesting that he shouldn’t have been able to have them in the first place, oftentimes using a transparently conservative and homophobic rationale. This is happening alongside serious and frightening efforts to eradicate LGBTQ rights in the U.S. and beyond, in part through demonizing surrogacy and gay parents. Although the debate around surrogacy is complex, I think ideally people with actual experience as surrogates should be leading that conversation—not viral outrage culture that is too often predicated on the belief that gay men are unfit to parent or that children need to have a mother to grow up happy and healthy.

And again, with regards to Hilton’s kids, I have no doubt that they will be seeing this conversation playing out about how they shouldn’t have been born or should never be able to see their father again, potentially as they’re reeling from the trauma they just experienced. It’s horrible, and I wish more people would consider the impact of their comments online. Yes, even if Hilton has done worse. Lowering ourselves to his level isn’t going to help anyone. It’s just going to normalize this type of online abuse even further.

Now, moving onto something less traumatic. This is Cassidy’s last piece for me as her work study program comes to an end, but you can keep following along with her writing at her website Pink Journalism and on her Instagram. She has been producing a theatre zine for her master’s project that will be available on her website in a few weeks, and stay tuned for a reality TV podcast she’s working on… And a special thanks to her for all her hard work this summer! 

By Cassidy Gays

Feuds between brides and their wedding vendors, from hair stylists to dress designers, have become inescapable on TikTok. It feels like every month a major scandal takes over the platform, where a bride presents her dispute to the court of public opinion for a resolution via angry mob. 

Take last month’s marquee controversy. A woman named Alexander Mae uploaded a TikTok with the onscreen caption “wedding dress from hell” on July 7. She shared her experience with designer Kate March, who custom-made her a wedding dress for thousands of dollars. Initially, she gave March the pseudonym “Kim,” but people were soon able to deduce she was talking about the brand “Undone by Kate,” and March eventually identified herself as “Kim.” Mae never shared the exact amount she paid, but another bride who later shared her own experience with March said she spent $6,500. While this price tag may be suspicious to those who know more about bespoke wedding dresses, March has an impressive client list, especially as an up-and-coming designer. She has even worked with Selena Gomez a few times, as well as slew of popular influencers. Another red flag, though, was that Mae said she never signed a contract. Throughout Mae's various fittings, somehow, she said, the dress seemed to only get worse. It even appeared to look like a different dress entirely each time she returned. The fabrics being used looked extremely cheap, and Mae still needed to be “clipped in” to the dress (meaning it wasn’t fitted to her size) with just a month to go before her wedding. Finally, she abandoned the process and got a new dress entirely. 

In response, the first theory viewers came up with was that March was ordering cheap gowns from sellers like Shein or AliExpress and making small adjustments to them. Cheap-looking fabric is a staple of these low-cost drop-shipped dresses. Mae even said she thought her dress looked like it would sell for $900 on ASOS. Commenters disagreed—they said even that was far too steep for a dress of this quality.

The next theory is the one I am partial to. It came from apparel developer and designer Mallory Brooks. In her own TikTok, Brooks said she believes March is a developer presenting herself as a designer. Essentially, Brooks argues, March comes up with the idea but someone else sews them. On social media, despite posting extensively about her business, we never seem to see March doing the intricate parts of designing or sewing a dress. She mainly shows herself doing things like gluing fabric or sewing on small rhinestones. She will also pin the dress at fittings and mark up seam lines. But as Brooks explains—and as I myself know as a nondesigner who can do these same things—anyone can. What appeared to be a smoking gun was when Brooks showed that March has even posted a clip of garments being sewn with hands that clearly are not hers. March didn’t respond to a request for comment.

As Brooks explains, this is probably where the problems arise. March may not have the actual technical knowledge to fulfill the bride's visions or communicate them to these other seamstresses. Brooks shared that this is actually a very common issue she has seen over the years in the design field, where young “designers” might have great ideas, but don’t have the skills to back them up. Brooks says March also likely discovered she could make a lot of money by presenting herself as a couture designer instead of as a developer, while paying a fraction of what she makes for other seamstresses to actually construct the garments.

In the end, March gave Mae a refund, but only on the day she posted her now-viral TikTok video. Meanwhile, March says that people have been sending her death threats and review-bombing her business (and to her credit, Mae uploaded a follow-up asking people to stop the vicious hate). But this wasn’t March’s first response. Initially, she posted a video of the dress Mae never ended up wearing with the caption “trust the process.” And while the dress looked a lot better than it did a month before Mae’s wedding, it still didn’t look great. The waist looked pretty bunched up, and we will never know if it would have fit Mae. 

The “wedding dress from hell” saga is a perfect example of how these situations tend to go online. A bride explains a wedding horror story she had with a small business owner. Next, the owner responds in a shady way, which leads to follow-up videos on both sides. Finally, under intense online pressure, the business owner gives the bride a refund. I could name about half a dozen similar cases involving cosmetologists or photographers off the top of my head. Why is this phenomenon so common to the point that it has become its own trend on TikTok? And why are almost all the players women?

I have my own theories. The viral success of many small businesses on TikTok encourages a lot of people to turn their hobbies into side hustles. Mix this aspirational content with the downward slope of the traditional job market, and I can’t exactly blame people for trying. But not everyone is ready to enter the couture business. March’s journey started with stitching together t-shirts during the pandemic, and now she’s offering custom gowns that don’t even look that great in the polished photos she posts on Instagram. It’s her clout and connections that become the selling point, and brides end up with a much worse bargain than they expected. And it’s not just an issue with March. I even see this happening with young women I went to high school with back in my small town, some of whom are charging hefty prices for services like photography when they’re still technically amateurs. While it’s ultimately up to the customer to decide what’s worth paying for, we all know social media can paint a rosier picture than what we get in real life. And then social media controversy can ensue. 

This culture also reminds me of the MLM (multi-level marketing) boom of the 2000s and 2010s. Many of us have received the quintessential “Hey girly!! I have an amazing opportunity for you!” message on Facebook from a woman you haven’t talked to since high school. This scammy business model was targeted to Gen X moms and millennial women, but after documentaries like LuLaRich and subreddits like r/antiMLM exposed the pyramid scheme model to a general audience, the industry has dwindled. Now, the cooler way to diversify your income is to start your own small business. Instead of buying underwhelming products from a sketchy company and selling them just to end up in debt, you can drop-ship your own goods and market your inadequate services with short-form videos. And unlike in pyramid schemes, you actually keep the profits. But is the DIY girlboss less exploitative than the MLM upline? Well, just ask the TikTok brides. 

When it comes to weddings, the harsh reveal of what a lot of these small businesses are really selling makes for incredibly engaging content. After all, weddings have gone up in price significantly. According to Zola, the average cost of the big day in 2026 is $36,000. And the glamorous Gen Z weddings we see onscreen only inflate expectations. In Euphoria's final season, a major plot point is Sydney Sweeney’s character Cassie starting an OnlyFans to afford $50k floral arrangements for her wedding. In reality, production spent more than double on what we saw in the episode. 

Brides, who shoulder the vast majority of the labor that goes into weddings, want to do it all within a reasonable budget. So they dream. They dream that the slightly below-market option will give them their picture-perfect wedding. This is often too good to be true. In my opinion, “Undone by Kate” becomes the modern LuLaRoe, where inexpensive goods receive a mark-up and fail to deliver. Brides are understandably disappointed, and the only option for recourse is a “Storytime” on social media. So, that's what they do. The platforms that connect these contractors to their customers in the first place become the venue where they get exposed. And we sit back and watch it all play out.