The story of the looksmaxxer who uses their tears to soften their hair You read that right

Contrary to what Publio Terenzio Afro claimed - "Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto" (I am human, and nothing human is alien to me) - there are things that do feel alien to me, a contemporary 30-year-old woman. For instance, the composition and backstory of Katseye, the Nick Wilde meme (the fox from Pixar’s Zootopia) saying “scuba,” and the entire looksmaxxer movement. Let’s be clear: I know the phenomenon, I observe it, I study it out of anthropological and professional interest—but that doesn’t mean I feel close to it, relatable to it, or even able to understand it from a human and empathetic standpoint. And that’s despite my strong interest in beauty. Because what is this movement of angry, lonely young men, obsessed only with being attractive and performing a cartoonish version of masculinity (Johnny Bravo, but without the good faith), if not beauty and wellness repurposed and offered as a weapon to the most fragile men?

Beauty according to looksmaxxers

Think about it. These young men, often already conventionally good-looking, decide to alter their appearance. They all want more or less the same things: broad shoulders, chiseled jaws, perfect hair. They walk around in tank tops regardless of the weather to show off their muscles, claim that women are targets to conquer, and constantly livestream their lives. They abuse steroids, don’t study, don’t work (at least not in the traditional sense), are misogynistic and alone, painfully alone. They align themselves with whatever political or ideological figures can give them the most visibility at the moment, without real ideas or conviction. It’s the rigid crystallization of an obsession - the one with beauty in its broadest sense - that spills from the feminine into the masculine, carrying with it all the anxieties tied to being a man today, along with the fear and anger that come with it.

The guy who puts tears in his hair to make it softer

It becomes obvious when, for example, Dillon Latham (a looksmaxxer linked to the Clavicular circle) claims he spreads his tears through his thick hair because the salt supposedly makes it softer. Of course, it makes no sense. Salt actually dries out hair. That’s why, when we come out of the sea, we get those perfectly imperfect waves and straw-like ends. It’s also why products designed to mimic the effect of saltwater should be used sparingly and always followed by a nourishing and hydrating treatment. At most, salt can be used for a gentle scalp scrub or to absorb excess oil. But even then, with caution and awareness.

No one fact-checks beauty advice from looksmaxxers, not even looksmaxxers

Looksmaxxers aren’t interested in the truth, only in performance. Not in whether salt actually benefits hair, but in saying whatever gets the most clicks, views, attention, more persona, more fake, more “looksmaxxer.” In their well-groomed hands, beauty (a distorted version that uses the right language in all the wrong ways, ignoring real application) becomes a dangerous accomplice, a slippery sidekick, a weapon to wield, a warped claim to reach goals that are simply unattainable, unless you’re born with a very specific genetic setup. Not yet, at least, even though some are trying. It’s a dangerous slippery slope, because it detaches from reality and turns into a theatrical performance—without ever admitting it’s not real. And in a world plagued, on one side, by an obsession with an increasingly exclusive (meaning exclusionary) beauty standard, and on the other by a now ritual distortion of truth online, fueled in part by artificial intelligence and the erosion of critical thinking, the power to influence young men becomes something like the philosopher’s stone. And if it falls into the wrong hands, that’s when things get dangerous.