Culture

Are We Fooling Men?

It started with a visit to my sister’s house. Rifling through her bathroom cabinet, I stumbled upon an intriguing hair tool: a crimper for your roots designed to add volume and bounce to fine hair.

By Lisa Britton3 min read
SKIMS

My own hair, while abundant, often falls flat, so I decided to give it a crimp before heading out for errands. Little did I know, this impulsive choice would unravel a deeper mystery about attraction, biology, and the lengths women go to enhance their appearance.

Stepping into the quiet residential neighborhood for a walk, I was caught off guard when a man jogged up to me, flashing a smile and striking up a conversation that quickly turned flirtatious. Flattered but surprised—I was in casual errand-running clothes and no makeup—I brushed it off and continued on my way. At the grocery store, browsing the frozen foods aisle, another man came up, complimenting my utterly basic athletic coat before asking for my Instagram and suggesting a date. Confusion set in; this wasn’t my usual experience. Then, in the parking lot of the next store, a third man dashed over, stopping me to declare I was “the most beautiful woman he’d seen” and asked for a chance to take me out.

Three advances in under two hours? Bewildered, I returned to my sister’s, where she immediately noticed: “Wow, your hair looks really nice.” That’s when it clicked—the hair tool had transformed my hair into a voluminous mane, and apparently, that was the catalyst for all of this attention.

Intrigued, I dove into online research to decode this phenomenon. What I uncovered was fascinating: evolutionary biology suggests men are subconsciously drawn to thicker hair as a marker of health and fertility. Studies from evolutionary psychologists, like those based on David Buss’s work on mate selection, indicate that hair quality signals vitality, a remnant of our ancestral wiring to ensure reproductive success. My boosted volume had tapped into this primal attraction, luring those men without them even realizing why. It got me thinking: women have been accentuating their features since the beginning of time, from ancient Egyptians using kohl for dramatic eyes to Victorian corsets cinching waists. Today, it's push-up bras for cleavage, Spanx for smoothing our curves, and endless options of makeup to enhance facial symmetry—all great tools in our arsenal to amplify our appeal.

But have we crossed a line? Take Kim Kardashian’s Skims line, which recently introduced body-shaping garments with built-in pads to exaggerate hips and booties, essentially allowing us to sculpt our silhouettes like customizable avatars. It’s ingenious marketing, tapping into the hourglass figure ideal that’s been idolized in media and art for centuries. They also released bras with fake nipples so it looks like you’re going braless when you’re not, and even weirder, faux fur underwear to give the appearance of going unshaven, available in a variety of hair shades. These extreme products raise an ethical question: Are we fooling men? When these enhancements come off—what remains? Is the initial spark built on an illusion, and does that undermine genuine connection?

On one hand, there’s empowerment in these choices. Beauty rituals can boost confidence, and confidence is magnetic. Studies have found that self-assured individuals are perceived as more attractive, regardless of physical tweaks they make. My crimper didn’t just change my hair; it subtly altered my demeanor, making me walk taller. And men aren’t immune to enhancements—think hair transplants, muscle-building supplements, or even height-boosting shoes. Attraction is a two-way street, influenced by societal pressures on both sides. As long as these tools aren’t deceptive in harmful ways, like catfishing on dating apps, they might simply level the playing field in a world obsessed with appearance.

I adore makeup and fashion—it's one of my passions. For me, taking the time to curate an outfit or apply a touch of makeup isn't just about aesthetics; it's a form of self-expression and empowerment. I believe that putting in that effort to present your best self is an act of self-respect. It boosts your confidence, honors your own worth, and serves as a daily reminder that you deserve to feel polished and put-together. But it goes beyond the individual; it's also a subtle way of showing respect to those around you. Whether you're heading to a meeting, a social gathering, or even a casual outing, arriving with intention signals that you value the time and presence of others.

Yet, there's a slippery slope. The beauty industry, valued at over $500 billion globally, thrives on insecurity, pushing products that promise transformation but often deliver temporary fixes. Social media fuels this, with filters and edits creating unattainable standards. When we "build" our bodies via pads and prosthetics, are we prioritizing superficial allure over authenticity? What happens when the facade shatters? Relationships might crumble when reality sets in, leading to disappointment or resentment. I've heard stories from friends: dates dazzled by a date, only to feel misled by the natural person beneath. It's not about shaming women for self-care; it's about questioning if we're over-relying on looks at the expense of deeper qualities.

Ultimately, true attraction transcends the physical. Energy, kindness, and intellect often outshine any cosmetic boost. Most men, in my experience and from surveys like those by Match.com, prioritize personality and shared values over flawless features. They appreciate effort in self-presentation but aren’t fixated on it—as long as we’re healthy and happy. We don’t need to abandon makeup or nice clothes; styling our hair or putting together a flattering outfit is fun and harmless. But perhaps it’s time to dial back the extremes, embracing a more natural vibe over fake hips. By focusing less on fooling the eye and more on nurturing our inner selves, we can build connections that endure beyond the first glance.

In a culture saturated with enhancements, let’s remember: biology may draw the initial gaze, but it’s our authentic selves that hold it. So, are we fooling men? Maybe a little. But the real question is, are we fooling ourselves into thinking that’s all it takes?