Words: Rachel Hua (she/her)
New anxieties are introduced as quickly as new products, sustaining a cycle of consumption driven by panic rather than science.
Want to look 10 years younger overnight? Just add a red light mask, chin strap, and Japanese face tape to your morning shed. The uglier you go to bed, the prettier you’ll wake up! The influencers selling these elaborate skincare routines are 25 with pristine skin, though that detail hardly registers before your Boots basket fills with dreams of eternal youth and a “doll-like” complexion. What’s marketed as self-care is really a modern purity ritual; one that associates flawless, youthful skin with virtue, antagonises the natural signs of ageing, and turns women’s faces into an opportunity for profit and control.
The cosmetic industry sells anti-ageing products not through concrete evidence, but carefully curated language that sounds scientific whilst conveniently remaining unverifiable. Dozens of serums and elixirs promise “glass-like”, dewy, glowing skin, relying on aesthetic buzzwords to sell the fantasy that a transformation is just one purchase away. Even big skincare names like The Ordinary and Cerave rely on obscure references to statistics obtained from “clinical trials” or revolutionary technologies, while offering little more than brief footnotes about scientific testing and generic dermatologist testimonies. This creates the illusion of credibility, but is more of a marketing tool than a precise science. More than anything, it promotes an industry that trades biology for belief and sells a dream more effectively than tangible results.
Far from empowering, the cosmetic industry profits from manufactured insecurities in women, pushing them to fear, rather than embrace, ageing. New anxieties are introduced as quickly as new products, sustaining a cycle of consumption driven by panic rather than science. The environmental impact is also substantial, as single-use masks and endless packaging pile up, whilst the global dermatology sector is projected to grow from $24.6 billion to $44.5 billion by 2030. Empowerment, in this context, is less of a goal and rather a well-packaged illusion to rationalise consumption.
The biological process of ageing is a natural phenomenon. It is far less dramatic than the exaggerated claims of the cosmetic industry. Intrinsic ageing is dictated by genetics, whereas extrinsic ageing is affected primarily by UV radiation alongside factors like tobacco use, air pollution, and nutrition. Many youth-preserving campaigns promise rapid, dramatic results that are biologically impossible. Still, that’s not to say that all skincare is without merit. Regular SPF application prevents UV damage, and topical antioxidants like ascorbic acid can reduce skin roughness. Skincare routines may also provide emotional comfort and a sense of self-love, but these merits are small compared to the damage caused by the purist perfection narrative that dominates advertising, where flawlessness is equated with self-worth.
The age-old obsession with anti-ageing cannot be separated from the longstanding gendered double standard, where men are allowed to age into authority whilst women are often punished for doing the same. Even in adolescence, girls are conditioned to do whatever it takes to prevent their age from showing on their faces – don’t furrow your brows, or scowl, or smile too wide; lest unsightly creases mar one. As Susan Sontag observes, for women, ‘every wrinkle, line, every grey hair is a defeat,’ because beauty is not measured by character, intelligence or experience, but is instead synonymous with youth. The idolised poreless, textureless skin is more often associated with prepubescent girls, reinforcing the notion that women need to preserve an appearance untouched by time. Men, however, are permitted to age openly – the lines on their face reframed as signs of maturity, gravitas, and power. Contrarily, women’s ageing is viewed as something that needs to be reversed, and an indication that she has let herself go. The female face becomes a site of constant surveillance, where the passage of time is perceived as a moral failure rather than a natural process.
The marketing of imperfection as failure, and perfection as success, ultimately convinces women that controlling every detail of their appearance is empowering. Acne, pores, and texture are positioned as defects rather than as natural features of life. Real empowerment comes from reclaiming one’s appearance from these moralised ideals, welcoming the natural marks of life, and rejecting the notion that fear is equivalent to self-care. After all, what is empowering about being terrified of our own skin?
Purity should not be measured by the absence of lines, but by skin that is authentic. Furrows between our brows, wrinkles on our foreheads, and lines shaped by smiling are not evidence of neglect, but proof of a life fully lived – laughter, tears, love, and moments both good and bad. Ageing is not a moral deficit, but rather evidence of survival and experience. The anti-ageing narrative must be rewritten, celebrating skin not as something to be fixed, but as a record of the essence of being human, and redefining purity as the bravery to live transparently and authentically.
