Beneath the surface of viral TikTok trends like "mewing" for chiseled jawlines and the obsessive pursuit of "hunter eyes" lies a disturbing confluence of forces shaping a generation of young men. This deep dive explores how the "looksmaxxing" phenomenon, born from the internet's darker corners, intersects with anxieties about masculinity, a volatile political landscape, and the relentless commercial exploitation of self-doubt.
The image is stark: a 10-year-old boy, pre-iPhone ownership, already mimicking the cheek-sucking, jaw-defining pose of a seasoned influencer. As his mother sighs, "He's mewing," she unwittingly articulates a broader societal tremor. "Looksmaxxing"—the obsessive drive to maximize one's physical attractiveness—along with its brethren "auramaxxing" and "smellmaxxing," has breached the digital levees, flooding into the consciousness of Gen Z and Gen Alpha. While some manifestations appear benign, such as teenage boys mobbing Sephora for influencer-endorsed colognes, others, like jaw-sculpting chewing gums or extreme self-scrutiny, signal a more insidious creep of anxiety and potential harm.
Dermatologist Dr. Anthony Rossi of Memorial Sloan Kettering observes a concerning trend: "We’re noticing more and more people just coming in really scrutinizing facial angles... They’re angling their face—‘Look at my profile.’ Some people will reference social media outright."
This isn't mere vanity; it's a symptom of lives lived under the constant, often critical, algorithmic gaze, where self-worth becomes dangerously tethered to digitally mediated perceptions. The concern is so palpable that 14 US states have sued TikTok's makers, alleging addictive design and misleading the public about its negative mental health impacts, including "increased anxiety," as revealed by TikTok's own research.
From Incel Forums to Mainstream Obsession: The Ideological Undercurrents
The term "looksmaxxing" itself, as founder of Aneeq notes, emerged from the "pro-masculine" online communities, specifically the "involuntarily celibate" (incel) subcultures that blame their romantic failures on women and societal shifts. "A certain subset feel like their masculinity has been threatened by society, or they feel less empowered or less seen," Lewis explains. "Men are really trying to lean into their masculinity—they’re protein maxing, taking supplements and steroids—because they feel like they aren’t able to be as masculine as they were born to be."
This sentiment finds a chilling icon in Patrick Bateman, the hyper-groomed, psychopathic protagonist of American Psycho. Bret Easton Ellis's creation has become a "sigma male" totem for a segment of Gen Alpha, who valorize his perceived power, class, and self-control. This online adulation for a murderer, whose meticulous self-care routine is now mimicked earnestly, occurs alongside a notable political realignment: in 2024, US men aged 18-29 swung significantly towards the Republican nominee, a figure who, despite his age and physique, successfully projected an image of hypermasculinity that resonated with this demographic. Looksmaxxing, then, can be read as a desperate attempt to reclaim a sense of agency and control in a world where many young men feel adrift and disempowered.
Mewing and Mogwarts: The Pseudoscience and Commercialization of Hope
Central to the looksmaxxing arsenal is "mewing," a tongue posture technique promoted by controversial British orthodontist Mike Mew. His father, John Mew, pioneered "orthotropics," claiming traditional orthodontics were flawed and that modern processed foods had led to "ugly faces." Despite a lack of robust scientific studies and John Mew losing his medical license for unsupported claims, Mike Mew’s face—and his promise that anyone can achieve his striking jawline by pressing their tongue to the roof of their mouth—has become incel gospel and a TikTok sensation with over 2 billion views. The American Association of Orthodontists dismisses mewing’s claims as having support "as thin as dental floss," yet Mew has trademarked the term and launched an app, framing his battle against the establishment as a quest to "make the world a better place."
This blend of anti-establishment rhetoric and entrepreneurial zeal is mirrored in platforms like "Mogwarts Academy," a "School of Looksmaxxing Profound Self-Improvement" run by influencer Kareem Shami ("Syrianpsycho"). For a monthly fee, users access tutorials on achieving "hunter eyes" and other desired traits. While some posts offer genuine peer support for issues like acne, the site also exemplifies the echo chamber effect, where insecurities are amplified and "sexual market value" becomes a subject of perilous public rating.
The Market's Relentless Gaze: Monetizing Manufactured Insecurity
"Advertisers have done about as much as they can do to make women feel bad about themselves—and profit off of it. Now they’ve turned to men," observes Dr. Mike Parent, a specialist in young male behavior. This shift is palpable. The author’s own research for this story immediately triggered a deluge of ads for self-improvement products, including Jawliner gum, which claims to tone facial muscles and has reportedly sold over a million pouches. Its founder, Anton Perl, frames his product as a solution to insecurity, stating, "Any kind of motivation to change something on your body, I think, is always the best."
This commercial pressure, coupled with the constant self-surveillance promoted by social media, is creating a fertile ground for anxiety and potentially body dysmorphia. As dermatologist Dr. Joshua Zeichner notes, cosmetic procedures are booming "as more people are in front of the camera on a regular basis," with terms like "brotox" entering professional discourse.
The Crisis of Confidence and Critical Thinking
The teenagers interviewed for the original piece, like 13-year-old Max and 15-year-old Aidan, reveal a generation surprisingly fluent in the language of skincare and fragrance, viewing cologne, for instance, as a "confidence" booster and a tool for social acceptance. Aidan’s collection of 18 colognes, including a $365 bottle of Parfums de Marly, and his informed discussion of parfum versus eau de parfum, underscores the normalization of sophisticated consumerism in self-presentation. As Sephora's David Razzano puts it, luxury colognes represent "a personal statement of maturity and sophistication."
Yet, this confidence often coexists with a troubling lack of media literacy and a distrust of established expertise. The viral spread of a deepfake video featuring podcaster Andrew Huberman seemingly endorsing fitness gum exemplifies this. Dr. Zeichner hopes the looksmaxxing movement will eventually adopt a "healthy and natural-appearing way," but the underlying drivers—platform algorithms designed for addiction, commercial interests adept at exploiting insecurity, and a deficit in critical engagement with online information—suggest a more complex and potentially enduring challenge.
What looksmaxxing ultimately reveals is not just a shift in grooming habits, but a profound reshaping of young men's identities under the duress of digital culture. It points to a generation grappling with what masculinity means, seeking validation in appearance, and navigating a treacherous online world where authenticity is scarce, and the pressure to perform is relentless. The question remains: Are young men okay? And more importantly, what responsibility do we all bear in addressing the systemic forces that make such extreme self-objectification seem like a viable path to self-worth?
