Caitlin Covington Steps Back: The Real Reason Behind Her Fall Content Hiatus
Kai Montgomery here—grumpy, skeptical, and reluctantly sharing wisdom because someone’s gotta do it. Let’s cut through the fluff: Caitlin Covington, the woman who made “Christian Girl Autumn” a cultural shorthand for fall nostalgia, has officially called it quits on her annual Vermont pilgrimage. Yes, you read that right. No more chunky scarves, no more little brown booties, no more pumpkin spice lattes staged with cinematic precision. The 2025 season of seasonal content is officially canceled.
It wasn’t a dramatic exit. It was tearful. On August 19, Covington broke down in a TikTok video, voice cracking as she delivered the news: “I’m not going to be able to post fall videos this year.” She didn’t just say it once—she said it twice, like she was trying to convince herself. And honestly? We get it. Because what she’s been doing isn’t just content. It’s performance art wrapped in cardigans and layered over emotional labor.
Since 2019, when an anonymous X user (now deleted) dubbed her “Christian Girl Autumn,” she’s become the face of autumnal idealism. A single photo of her in a woolen sweater, standing beneath golden trees, became a digital rite of passage. People waited for her posts like they were waiting for snowfall. One fan even compared the announcement to “Santa saying he’s not doing Christmas.” That’s not hyperbole—it’s how deeply embedded she became in the collective imagination.
But behind the aesthetic? A $7,000 price tag per trip. Around 100 hours of prep. Airbnbs booked months in advance. Travel logistics that would make a tour manager weep. And let’s not forget the pressure: every year, fans expect it to be better than last year. More fire. More foliage. More flawless selfies. As Covington admitted to the New York Times in 2022, “Fall is just all about finding comfort in the small things.” But maintaining that illusion? That’s anything but small.
And here’s the kicker: she’s never actually loved the content. “It’s been fun,” she said, “but it’s not my preferred type of content.” Fun? Sure. Preferred? Not even close. This wasn’t passion—it was product. And now, after years of curating perfection, she’s hitting pause. Not retirement. Not quitting. Just a year off. A breath. A chance to remember who she is outside the oversized felt fedora.
Her husband Chris Dorsch and two young daughters are part of the story too—this isn’t just a solo act. It’s family life, parenting, and the quiet exhaustion of being a public figure while raising kids. The weight of expectation doesn’t just come from followers; it comes from self-imposed standards. And sometimes, even the most curated lives need a reset.
So yes, the internet mourns. Fans are heartbroken. But maybe—just maybe—we should stop treating influencers like machines and start seeing them as people. They’re not just content factories. They’re mothers. Partners. Humans with limits. And if Caitlin Covington needs a year off to breathe, then damn it, she deserves it.
Did anyone think this would end differently? No? Thought so.
Sources: Celebrity Storm and E! Online, New York Times
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