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    Hair Transplants and the New Male Vanity

    Last year, I noticed that two comedians I like talked about getting hair transplants. One of them, Matteo Lane, named his special “Hair Plugs & Heartache,” which opens with an extended bit about the transplant experience. I appreciated Lane’s radical (and very funny) transparency regarding the cosmetic enhancement. He talked about the expense, described the 10-hour surgery and the long recovery, and joked about his hair growing in gradually “like a Chia pet.” He’s very happy with the outcome.Lane also talks about why he got his surgery in the United States instead of in Turkey. He said he didn’t want to go through customs with his head swollen like the alien from the movie “Mars Attacks”: “I want to be ugly at home.” Going to Turkey to get a cheaper hair transplant is such a cliché that there’s an entire genre of social media video dedicated to depicting men’s beef carpaccio heads on “Turkish hairlines” flying back to their homes from Istanbul.The British tabloid The Mirror just ran a story about one regular bloke who traveled to Turkey for hair transplant surgery and is quoted as saying that he feels he has “a new lease of life.”This is a marked change from just a few years ago, when men were less forthcoming about getting surgery on their domes. In 2021, my newsroom colleague Alex Williams wrote about the men who got hair transplants during the locked-down days of the pandemic. “There’s still that old stigma, where guys aren’t supposed to worry about how they look and spend a lot of money on their appearance,” one hair transplant recipient said at the time.That stigma is very old, indeed. There’s long been anxiety over hair loss among men, according to Martin Johnes, a professor of modern history at Swansea University in Wales who has researched masculinity, modernity and male baldness. But the stress really started ramping up in the 1930s, when men stopped wearing hats regularly and popular media started valorizing youthfulness more aggressively.In the 1930s, it was considered effeminate to pay too much attention to your appearance yet many of these men still wanted to take action if they were unlucky enough to go bald. They called baldness obscene, a major disaster and, poetically, a favored nightmare. One 30-year-old upholsterer said:I do not care to see bald heads. I can only tolerate them if the owner has a large head, or if his personality will not allow himself to look pitiable.While the bad feelings around baldness clearly aren’t new, talking about those feelings in public is. And hair replacement technology has improved so much in the last couple of decades that transplants look real now — it’s not just snake oil or cheesy infomercials for hair in a can anymore.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Teens Are Getting Botox. I’m Going Full Crone in 2025.

    Whenever I can, I try to deprogram my daughters from the overwhelming cultural imperative to look conventionally hot forever. Sometimes this involves showing my eldest daughter videos of women older than me who I admire. This is my way of pushing back against the idea that we should do everything in our power to look younger.A recent standout of the genre is a TikTok I found of Shirley Manson, the lead singer of the band Garbage, talking about being in her 50s. “I understand why women are scared to admit what age they are, but my feeling is that will never change until women change it,” she says, with her trademark blazing red hair pulled into a high, off-center ponytail, revealing a shaved undercut.My older daughter, who is in middle school, sat silently through the two-minute video. I thought she was deeply and mindfully considering Manson’s message, until she turned to me when it was over and said: “I hate her eye shadow.”Honestly, I get it. My older girl has always been able to sniff out a Very Important Maternal Lecture from 100 paces away, and because she’s inherited her mother’s innate skepticism, she rejects any of my overt attempts to indoctrinate her. I remember being in the middle school Thunderdome in the 1990s. If my mother had tried to talk to me then about beauty by showing me Joni Mitchell or whoever I would have laughed her off the face of the planet. Her entreaties would have been so irrelevant to my daily experience among tween insult comics — I was dishing it out as well as taking it, and an earnest call to hippie values would have been ridiculous to me.Normal preadolescent dismissal won’t deter me, because the pressure to look good in a hyper-conventional way is only getting worse and feels more overwhelming than it did when I was growing up. Women’s magazines don’t even seem to bother being mildly critical of plastic surgery or injections anymore, the wonky logic being that it’s anti-woman to be judgmental of anything a woman does. A recent article in The Cut about the “best” age to inject your face with the same toxin that causes botulism quotes a dermatologist who says, “I’m conservative by nature, so for Botox, I usually say late twenties at the earliest.”And the sad thing is that dermatologist is being conservative. In The Atlantic in September, Yasmin Tayag explained that “baby Botox” really is a thing: “The number of Americans ages 19 and under who got injections of Botox or similar products rose 75 percent from 2019 and 2022 — and then rose again in 2023.” Tayag then quotes another dermatologist who says, “There’s no age that’s too early,” before clarifying that it wouldn’t be appropriate to treat a teenager. Though as she also points out, when England banned fillers for the under-18 set, they simply traveled to Wales for treatment.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More