In Beauty Freak, a column for Highsnobiety, Sable Yong explores how the culture of beauty impacts our lives.
Sometime in 2023, I had an appointment with a hairstylist who also happened to be a trichologist — a specialist who studies hair and scalp health. As she was sectioning my hair, she asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, did you have COVID about eight months ago?”
She pointed to a weft of fine, downy hairs sprouting a few inches underneath my middle part. “See, this is all new growth. Hair grows about an average of half an inch a month, and there’s about four inches here,” she said.
I actually did have COVID about six months ago, I told her. “Oh, well, you’re lucky then; your hair grows fast.”
This type of hair loss is called telogen effluvium, and while the shedding can begin around two to three months after recovery, it can go on for about six to nine. It’s temporary, and regrowth can and will follow, inshallah. But two to nine months is more than enough time to develop balding paranoia.
Things like this used to be cause for embarrassment. But our obsession with transparency when it comes to personal maintenance has done a lot to destigmatize certain taboo topics: acne, stretch marks, cellulite, scars. Now, the beauty-and-wellness industry is coming for our scalps. Virtually every subway car and bus stop is flanked by ads for hair-loss solutions: plump, serifed fonts marketing DTC subscription-based treatments in tones of faded hunter green or mauve. I recently spotted a truck idling on Spring Street, emblazoned with, “Honk if you want 19,000 more hairs.”
It’s certainly the best time in history to be fussing around with the top of your dome; the scalp-care market is currently valued at $15 billion. I’ve attended so many scalp-care brand events this year alone, many of which hail from South Korea, the global beauty wellspring. The idea is pretty simple: if you want nice, healthy hair, start with your scalp. Most of these events feature some kinda of scalp analysis, a quick education on how the scalp works and what it needs, and a demo of whatever product promises to do just that. I also experienced my first head spa, a treatment originating in Japan that has spread worldwide. Imagine a shampoo and a blowout, but you’re laid out on a table with your head resting in a sink. A halo of water around your head gently rinses your hair while your scalp, neck, and back are massaged for an hour or more. It’s heaven.
I’ve always thought that the scalp massage is the best part of getting your hair washed when you go to the salon for a cut; I’d certainly pay to make it the main event. And lots of people seem to agree, with head spas featuring widely on the “Come with me to…” algorithm. It’s a visual scroll-stopper because it’s something familiar (a shampoo sink) but enhanced (a mini water park around your head).
More recently, at another such brand event, I had the terrifying pleasure of getting my scalp assessed with one of those microscope-like camera devices that zoom in until your head looks like alien terrain. My results placed me in the good-to-above-average percentile for hair health. But, as always, there was room for improvement…with Omi’s patented IFP-131™ peptide, which anchors and strengthens hair to the follicle so that it sheds less.
It seems that everywhere you look, there are new products, supplements, and protocols designed to address what’s going on with your head. Omi’s gummies and capsules are $86 for one month’s supply — and clinicians recommend a three-month course for best results. The K18 Future IQ Biomimetic Hair Longevity Serum claims to prevent shedding, premature graying, and something called scalp aging — and it’s $120 a month.
Scalp massagers, which can help with blood circulation if you use them diligently, range in price from less than $10 on Amazon for what looks like the business end of a salad-mixing fork, to $198 for a 24-karat-gold-plated comb from premium Japanese hair brand Lovechrome. Feel like leveling up? There’s a whole spate of modern tech-y interventions, including red-light hats, microneedling rollers, and PRP injections (for in-clinic treatment), all of which will run you several hundred dollars. (I haven’t tried any, but I have friends who have, to varying results.)
I’m not surprised that the scalp has become beauty’s next frontier. After all, it’s directly tied to one of our most prized physical attributes: our hair. What does slightly shock me is the sudden and sheer abundance of solution marketing to what has historically been a men’s grooming issue. Anyone would start to suspect that we’re experiencing some kind of wholesale follicular anxiety.
It’s true that millennials, the consumer class of the aughts, are finally aging into their balding years. They happen to be doing this at a time of peak aesthetic scrutiny thanks to social media. They want to look good compared to the Kardashians and Bachelorettes of the world (most of whom are wearing weaves or wigs). And, perhaps more than any generation to come before them, they carry a lot of anxiety around aging; it’s no coincidence that this is the generation glomming onto the longevity movement. If we can put a wellness spin on getting older — something like “scalp care” — it doesn’t feel quite so daunting. What is daunting is the task of weeding out misinformation from a vast landscape of affiliate links that promise to solve your scalp insecurities.
If you’ve been suspecting that things are feeling a bit breezier up there, I’d first recommend using something free: your hands. When I asked the tech who analyzed my scalp what treatments were clinically proven to promote hair growth, she shrugged and suggested that anyone could just routinely massage their scalp to get the blood flowing. “It’s the only thing I’ve known that works as long as people make it a habit,” she told me. “But no one really mentions it because it’s free.”
