Truth is, we don't care about Jeff Bezos' marriage

Last week, ahead of the wedding between Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sánchez, a rather heated debate broke out in the newsroom. Not so much because of the lavish celebrations themselves, but rather due to the much more complex issue of the ambiguous ethical grey area that emerges when someone “rents out” an entire city—and not just any city, but the one that has long been the poster child of mass tourism. Despite several outlets having labelled the event as “the event of the year”, the pop-cultural dimension of the union was barely discussed in the newsroom. Not because it didn’t have media impact—it would be a lie to deny that—but because its actual cultural relevance is dangerously close to zero. It’s true that Vogue dedicated its cover story of the month to the new Mrs. Bezos, and it’s also true that, according to Launchmetrics estimates, the wedding generated a Media Impact Value of $222 million. But as has been repeatedly pointed out, are we really sure that apparent virality on social media is a reliable indicator of what defines contemporary culture? Or is it just algorithmic noise, carefully orchestrated by a calculated PR machine?

The narrative crafted by Bezos’ communications team seems to have tried to replicate the model of the Kanye West and Kim Kardashian wedding—a moment still romanticised on social media, especially by Gen Z, as the ultimate “love story.” But the comparison only holds up to a point: back then, we had two pop icons at the peak of their cultural relevance, two figures perfectly attuned to the collective imagination of the time. Here, instead, we’re looking at a tech oligarch—one of the most polarising (and disliked) public figures in recent history—and a conservative American journalist who, in public discourse, exists primarily as the “Amazon 2.0 wife”. On X and TikTok, the conversation is far from celebratory: the real driver behind it is not a romantic fairy tale, but the glaring hypocrisy between the event’s extravagance and the questionable business practices of Bezos’ companies. The backlash was also amplified by political figures like Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, who denounced the absurd discrepancy between Bezos’ wedding expenses and his actual tax contribution, estimated to be just 1.1% of his total wealth.

In short, maybe it really is the algorithm that selects and amplifies the most superficial content, but if we look closely, the entire mainstream conversation around the Bezos-Sánchez wedding seems more like a pretext for expressing social outrage than a sign of true cultural centrality. The spotlight wasn’t so much on the bride and groom as it was on the guest list: around 200 celebrities, including the Kardashian-Jenner clan, Leonardo DiCaprio, Oprah, Edward Enninful, and Sydney Sweeney—many of whom have previously spoken out on issues like environmentalism, social justice, and economic inequality. There’s a clear dissonance between words and actions: between those who publicly denounce billionaires and then attend their exclusive celebrations. The cynicism of the post-pandemic era and the growing frustration with economic inequality have turned every move made by the elite into a minefield, ready to explode under the weight of its contradictions. And in the end, the true legacy of this wedding won’t be a pop icon to remember, but yet another missed opportunity to understand what it really means, today, to be at the center of culture. On top of that, it seems the economic blows between the wedding and Blue Origin’s investments were quite significant, as just yesterday morning CNBC reported that Bezos had sold 3.3 million shares of Amazon worth nearly $737 million. A little suspicious, isn’t it?