A Woman of Influence

From Dover to digital stardom, Christine Perez proves that authenticity is the best algorithm.

By Mariana Simioni

Most people dream of scoring a seat at the FIFA World Cup. Christine Perez scored something more extraordinary—an email from soccer’s global governing body. 

The message arrived earlier this year, a few days after she posted an Instagram reel manifesting her dream of attending the World Cup. “They saw it, liked it, commented, and then I got an email,” she says. “I don’t know if they fell for my trap, but that was my plan.”

The algorithm may be unknowable, but Christine isn’t above a little manifestation jiujitsu. The terms of the collaboration remain confidential, but the message confirmed what her followers have long suspected: “New Jersey’s Bestie” has influence, and she knows how to wield it.

It’s the kind of partnership that validates two years of relentless content creation—but it also raises the question she’s been quietly wrestling with: What happens when you get everything you manifested?

LEARNING TO SPEAK IN REELS

She has cultivated 250,000 followers on Instagram and TikTok, guiding them through the Garden State in full bloom—from hidden trails to local flavors. Her content is unabashedly personal, featuring adventure, food, and a touch of chaos.

“Luckily, I’m a little crazy,” she said. “I want to do the wildest things: ride in a hot-air balloon, drive two hours to a restaurant, or go on a hike at 6 a.m.”

Her audience, concentrated mainly in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and New York, tunes in not just for recommendations but for the exuberance she layers on each post. Christine began posting nearly two years ago while juggling corporate gigs to grow the TikTok presence of NJDigest and NJ.com. The offers started rolling in, but she couldn’t accept them.

“I thought, Let’s try doing this creator thing for a year,” she recalls. “My goal was to match what I made at my corporate job that year. If I didn’t, I would go back.” 

She didn’t tell anyone—not even her mother—before she quit. “I didn’t want anyone to talk me out of it.”

THE VOLATILITY TAX

The first year was uneven in ways Perez doesn’t romanticize. Income swung wildly month to month. Peers were settling into corporate jobs with benefits while she edited videos at 2 a.m.

"I had a nice cushion, you know, a corporate job with benefits…do I settle for that, even though I feel like I could do more and could make more money somewhere else, but it's gonna be inconsistent at times?"

She met her financial goal by the end of the year. But the work didn’t stop. Her sister, Mara, who works full-time at Thorlabs as an assembly technician, became a behind-the-scenes partner, helping Christine film and strategize on weekends. 

“I help film, suggest video titles, and figure out if a sound or arrangement works,” Mara says. “Apparently, I’m really good at picking the main photo for a post—especially for food.”

Christine’s long-time boyfriend, Joseph Volpe, runs Untapped Reach, a social media marketing firm. He now manages Christine’s business. The couple lives in Dover, where their home doubles as creative headquarters. They’ve tried to impose boundaries—no work talk after 6 p.m., no analytics before bed—but it’s easy to slip back into shop talk. 

“We found ourselves going to bed talking about reports,” Christine says. “I was like, ‘This is so not romantic.’” 

While Volpe handles contracts, negotiations, and logistics, Christine directs creative vision. “She sets the ground rules,” Volpe says. “She chooses who she wants to work with and how she wants to do it. Then I make it happen.”

Her partnerships are meticulous. Every post is carefully considered and executed—sometimes to a fault. “Companies think it’s just a quick change—but I’ll redo the whole video,” she says.

Some projects that never see the light of day. “There were one or two times I didn’t post a video because the food or experience wasn’t what I expected,” she admits. “I don’t want to be the reason a small business loses money.”

It’s a standard that comes at a cost: drafts pile up, seasonal content expires, and hours of work disappear. “I’ll just wait and post it next year,” she laughs. “Sometimes it ends up going viral—but then my hair looks completely different.”

She obsessively studies metrics, too—though she’s learned to manage her relationship with them. “I try not to check likes right away,” she says. “It started to mess with my head.”

WHY FIFA CAME CALLING

The collaboration with FIFA wasn’t for the main event—at least, not yet. Perez partnered with the organization to create a series of Instagram stories promoting the FIFA Club World Cup, the tournament held this past summer. Now, she’s in talks for a possible collaboration around the 2026 FIFA World Cup, which will be held at MetLife Stadium.

“In New Jersey,” she’s quick to point out. “Not New York.” 

Don’t mess with New Jersey’s Bestie.

“You don’t have to be a huge soccer fan to understand how big a deal this is for Jersey,” she says. “FIFA is a whole world thing.”

She’s become a true follower of the sport—especially when it comes to Ecuador’s national team. “Being Hispanic, [soccer] is always in your life. It’s at parties, restaurants—especially in Dover. Dover goes hard for soccer games.”

THE CURATION PROBLEM

Christine proudly picks brand collaborations that align with her values. “If I authentically use that product, or feel like I would, then I’m in.”

Some favorites: Heineken Zero this past summer, ShopRite’s “Fiesta Juntos” event celebrating Hispanic Heritage Month, and a T.J. Maxx partnership that felt particularly full-circle. “I was like, ‘No way! You guys don’t know this, but I worked for you guys,’” she says with a laugh as she reflects on her first teenage job.

Christine’s followers have steered her to her favorite stories. She received a flurry of DMs from followers urging her to visit Frenchtown, a picturesque river town near the Delaware Water Gap. The local tourism board reached out, and off she went. She also visited the BAPS Swaminarayan Akshardham in Robbinsville—a stunning Hindu temple that she calls one of the most beautiful and peaceful places she’s ever experienced. “It honestly doesn’t feel like you’re in New Jersey when you’re there.”

Dover delivers shelter, inspiration, and occasional complications. Why doesn’t she share tales from her hometown: “I don’t want it to get crowded,” she admits. But there’s something deeper.

“I’m very introverted,” she says. “When I record, it’s just me and my camera. It’s not me and 100,000 people watching me.”

It's the paradox of her work: she can speak to a quarter million followers, but the idea of filming in front of her neighbors feels exposing in a way the algorithm never does. 

“I eat in town almost every other day,” she says. “It would feel weird busting out a camera and lights and talking…and then just going back the following day acting like nothing happened.”

Still, she’s warming to it. She filmed cherry blossoms in Hurd Park last April and plans to record a hiking video at Hedden Park in Randolph once fall foliage peaks. Vernon has become a favorite escape, featuring spa days at Crystal Springs, ziplining at Mountain Creek, and a nearby horse rescue. “I love ziplines. It’s such a pretty way to take in views.”

“Every time we’re out shooting, she’ll say, ‘I’m so grateful this is my job,’” Mara explains. “And I can see that it truly works for who she is.”

The question is whether that gratitude can sustain the grind.

ROOTS & RESILIENCE 

Perez’s story starts in Corona, Queens, but her roots took hold in Dover, where her family settled when she was five years old. The daughter of Ecuadorian immigrants, she grew up watching her mother, Johanna, move through the world with relentless focus. 

“She started a whole new career at 30,” Christine says. “When I was a teenager, she was juggling two jobs, pregnant with my little brother, Vincent, and raising two girls. And on top of that, she went back to school.”

Johanna earned a degree from Berkeley College in Dover to become a medical assistant. “She just figured it out,” Christine says. “And seeing her live life on her terms gave me permission to do the same.”

Summers meant extended stays for her and Mara with family in Ecuador. “It was like my Hamptons,” she says. 

She also has another consultant. Vincent, now eight and in third grade, offers creative, if self-serving, input. “He’s like, ‘You should record me learning how to ride a bike because your followers would love that,’” she says.

At Dover High School, Perez balanced academics with volunteer work at HeadStart and the Special Olympics. She explored an early interest in fashion through classes at the Fashion Institute of Technology, but ultimately shifted her focus. That change in direction led her to pursue a dual degree in Business and Communications from County College of Morris.

WHAT COMES NEXT

Content may be Perez’s currency for now—but she’s clear-eyed about its shelf life. 

“I’ve never subscribed to the idea that you have to do one thing with your life,” she says. “I’ll do this in my twenties and something completely different in my thirties.”

She’s imagined what comes next: launching another business, maybe becoming a teacher, starting a family. But those futures feel abstract compared to the algorithm’s relentless present-tense demands. Content never finishes, it just refreshes, so her boundaries– no work talk after 6, headphones at the grocery store– are acts of resistance in a job that rewards constant availability. She’s starting to feel the weight of that. Of being known. Of needing to always be “on.”

The FIFA partnership was a dream realized. But even dreams leave questions in their wake. What does influence mean once you’ve achieved it? What happens when the platform changes, or the audience moves on?

Christine doesn’t have all the answers. But she’s building something her mother would recognize: a life lived on her own terms, with an exit strategy that lets her walk away when she’s ready.

“I know it’s working when I’m getting DMs,” Perez says. Not likes. Not partnerships. Connection.

That’s the metric that still matters—and maybe the real trap she’s setting. Not for brands or algorithms, but for herself: a way to measure success that doesn’t disappear when the views do.