When I was growing up, back in the good old ’90s and ’00s, beautiful people seemed to come in a much wider variety. There wasn’t one facial template that represented what it meant to be attractive. There wasn’t one body. One formula. Women could look completely different from one another and still be recognised as beautiful.

Rachel Stevens was beautiful.

So was Shania Twain.

And Catherine Zeta-Jones.

So was Cameron Diaz.

So was Britney Spears.

And yet, none of these women looked remotely interchangeable. They had different facial structures, different colouring, different bodies, different styles and completely different energies. Britney Spears, for example, has features that wouldn’t necessarily tick every box on today’s increasingly obsessive facial-analysis checklists. Somewhere, an algorithm might be busy telling us that her canthal tilt isn’t sufficiently whatever-the-hell-it-is-supposed-to-be. And yet…Nobody needed a numerical score to understand why she was beautiful. She was beautiful. People experienced her as beautiful. No one imagined her with different facial angles to match a desired template. And this wasn’t exclusively a female phenomenon. Men were allowed a similar variety of appeal. Different faces, physiques, hairstyles and styles could all be considered attractive without everyone needing to conform to precisely the same facial blueprint.

Of course, the ’90s and ’00s were hardly a utopia for body image. Women were still subjected to enormous pressure about weight, skin, hair and beauty in general. Men were increasingly being sold their own physical ideals, too. There was plenty about that era that deserved criticism. But something about the range of acceptable beauty feels different when you compare it with today’s increasingly analytical approach. People weren’t measured quite so strictly. We weren’t constantly encouraged to assess whether our faces conformed to a numerical ideal. We didn’t need to know the exact angle of someone’s jaw to decide whether we found them beautiful. We didn’t need to calculate facial ratios. We didn’t need to determine whether someone’s eyes were sufficiently “hunter”, “fox” or “almond”. We simply looked at someone and thought: “They’re gorgeous.” And perhaps that’s what we’ve lost? Not beauty. But some of our ability to experience beauty without dissecting it.

Today, open social media and you’ll encounter an entirely different vocabulary.

Mandible. Facial thirds. Canthal tilt. Philtrum length. Cheek projection. Symmetry. Etc. Suddenly, the human face has become something to isolate and optimise.

Welcome to Looksmaxxing.

# 1. What Exactly Is Looksmaxxing?

For anyone who hasn’t encountered the term, looksmaxxing is the contemporary online movement centred around maximising physical attractiveness. At its most harmless, that might mean improving your grooming, fitness, skincare, hair, clothing or general presentation. And honestly? There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to look good. In fact, I think some of the backlash against looksmaxxing gets this completely wrong.

I’m not interested in telling people that they should stop looking in the mirror and simply accept everything about themselves. I don’t believe that. I believe in looking after yourself. I believe in improving situations that can reasonably be improved. If your hair is frizzy, why wouldn’t you investigate whether there’s a product that works better for your hair type? Or perhaps there’s something about your routine that’s causing it. Perhaps your hair is telling you something via its condition. Perhaps your skin is breaking out and you want to understand why. Perhaps you’re unhappy with your fitness and decide to become stronger. Perhaps your teeth need looking after. Perhaps you find a hairstyle or a particular style of clothing that makes you feel fantastic. There is nothing inherently shallow about any of this. I try to look after my appearance because I want to feel good in myself. I don’t do it for the male gaze. I don’t do it for the female gaze. I do it because I look at something and think: “I’m not happy with this. How can I improve it?” And sometimes the answer is actually about health.

Our skin, hair, nails, teeth and body can all give us information about what’s happening inside us. Changes in appearance can sometimes be useful signals that something needs attention. For instance, when I experienced hair loss, I didn’t simply accept it as an inevitable aesthetic failure. I wanted to understand why it was happening. I looked at my products. I looked at my diet. I investigated nutritional factors. Where deficiencies were identified, I addressed them. In other words, I wasn’t trying to turn myself into somebody else. I was trying to get myself back to a healthier version of myself. And there is an important distinction there. Self-care is not the enemy of self-acceptance. You can believe that you’re enough whilst still wanting to improve something.

The problem begins somewhere else. It begins when optimisation becomes obsession.

# 2. When Does Self-Improvement Become Self-Surveillance?

There is a point where “How can I look my best?” becomes: “What is wrong with my face?” That is a very different question. Healthy skincare can become compulsively examining every pore. Fitness can become punishment. Grooming can become constant checking. And facial analysis can turn a perfectly ordinary human face into a collection of supposed defects. A perfectly healthy, functioning nose suddenly becomes unacceptable because its nostril flare doesn’t conform to a particular ideal. Perfectly functional eyes become something to “correct” because their shape is “cute” instead of “hot”. A face that was previously just… a face, becomes a project. And this is where I think the modern conversation becomes dangerous. Not because cosmetic procedures are inherently wrong. If someone has genuinely considered a procedure and wants it for themselves, that’s their choice. But there is a difference between: “I’d really like to change this feature.” and: “I cannot be attractive unless I change this feature.” One comes from personal preference. The other can come from insecurity. And insecurity has a remarkable ability to move the goalposts. Because once you’ve corrected one thing, there will always be another.

Another measurement. Another trend. Another supposedly superior facial structure. Another person who scores higher.

If the objective is perfection, you will never arrive. You will be forever chasing your own tail.

# 3. The Problem With a Perfect Face

Perhaps the strangest thing about the modern beauty conversation is how mathematical it has become.

We are encouraged to think of faces as collections of measurements. – How symmetrical is the face? How wide is the jaw? How high are the cheekbones? What is the ratio between this and that? – There is fascinating research into the characteristics that can influence perceptions of attractiveness. But there is an enormous leap between acknowledging that certain characteristics can influence perception, and then deciding that human beauty can, therefore, be reduced to an engineering diagram. We don’t experience people that way. We don’t fall in love with a ratio. We fall in love with a person. And their faces are alive. They move. They smile. They frown. They light up when someone talks about something they love. They change when someone laughs. They soften when someone looks at the person they adore. A distinctive feature can become part of someone’s beauty precisely because it makes them distinctive: The slightly crooked smile. The unusual nose. The expressive eyes. The face that doesn’t look like everyone else’s.

Charm cannot be measured with a ruler. Neither can presence or appeal. And sometimes, the very features that don’t conform to a current beauty template are exactly what makes someone unforgettable. That’s what I find so interesting about looking back at the women I grew up seeing as beautiful. Rachel Stevens didn’t need to look like Cameron Diaz. Cameron Diaz didn’t need to look like Catherine Zeta-Jones. Britney Spears didn’t need to have Shania Twain’s features. They could all exist within the same cultural idea of beauty without needing to be ranked according to an objective facial score. There was room for individuality. There was room for different kinds of appeal. And perhaps there needs to be again.

# 4. We’ve Confused Mathematical Attractiveness With Human Appeal

Looksmaxxing can make a very tempting promise: If we can identify what people find attractive, and then optimise ourselves accordingly, surely we’ll become more desirable. But attraction isn’t quite that simple.

A person’s voice changes how their face feels. Their expressions change it. Their humour changes it. Their confidence changes it. Their kindness changes it. Their mannerisms change it. And familiarity can change it enormously. Sometimes, someone becomes more beautiful the longer you know them. Sometimes a feature you didn’t initially notice becomes the thing you adore most about their face. That isn’t an algorithmic failure. It’s human attraction doing what comes naturally.

# 5. Getting Noticed Isn’t the Same as Being Chosen

This is where I think looksmaxxing culture makes its biggest mistake. It takes something that is partly true and turns it into a complete philosophy. Yes, conventionally attractive people tend to receive more initial attention. Of course they do. Physical appearance is one of the first things we can perceive about another person. A beautiful face can make someone look twice. On a dating app, it can make someone stop scrolling. In a room, it can make someone notice you.

There is a difference between attractiveness and appeal. Someone can have extraordinarily symmetrical features and still be profoundly unattractive to you once they open their mouth. Someone else can have a slightly unconventional nose, distinctive eyes or a smile that doesn’t conform neatly to a beauty template and yet be completely magnetic. Why? Because humans don’t experience faces as isolated measurements. We experience people.

But attention isn’t love.

Attention isn’t compatibility.

Attention isn’t intimacy.

And attention certainly isn’t relationship success.

A beautiful person may walk into a room and attract twenty pairs of eyes. Wonderful. But what happens when those twenty people actually get to know them?

What if they’re selfish? What if they’re cruel? What if they’re unreliable? What if they’re narcissistic? What if they’re incapable of apologising? What if every conversation eventually becomes about them? What if they make their partner feel lonely?

Physical attractiveness can open a door. Sure. But it cannot make someone want to remain inside. And this is where I think we need to introduce a different kind of optimisation.

Perhaps we could call it personality-maxxing? Not because personality should become another performance or because everyone needs to turn themselves into some artificially perfect partner. But because if our ultimate goal is connection, then we need to cultivate the qualities that make connection possible. For instance – can you communicate? Can you listen? Can you make someone laugh? Can you admit when you’re wrong? Can you be emotionally generous? Can you make another person feel safe? Can you remain interesting once the novelty has worn off? Can you love someone without constantly needing to be admired by them? These qualities might not generate the same immediate attention as a perfect jawline does, but they are considerably more useful once someone has actually entered your life.

# 6. How Many People Can You Attract — And How Many Can You Keep?

Perhaps this is the question looksmaxxing culture doesn’t ask. Its main focus seems to be: how many people can I entice into my orbit? How many matches can I get? How many people will look at me? How desirable can I become? But relationships aren’t really about maximising the size of your audience. They’re about finding people who genuinely want to stay.

A person who receives hundreds of matches isn’t necessarily better at relationships than someone who receives twenty. They may simply photograph exceptionally well. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But photographs don’t have to communicate kindness. A jawline can’t apologise. Cheekbones can’t make someone laugh when they’ve had a terrible day. Perfect facial symmetry can’t hold your hand through grief. And no facial ratio can teach you how to love. This is where I think the idea of “personality-maxxing” becomes useful.

Because perhaps the real optimisation isn’t about becoming the person who can attract the largest possible audience. Perhaps it’s about becoming someone worth knowing. Someone interesting and trustworthy. Someone funny. Someone emotionally mature who has a life of their own. Someone who can make another person feel wanted rather than merely impressed. Someone whose presence becomes more valuable with time rather than less. Because ultimately, we’re not trying to maximise how many people we can entice into our circle. We’re trying to become someone people want to keep there.

# 7. You Don’t Have to Become Perfect to Be Enough

I don’t want this article to be interpreted as an argument against beauty. As is evident, I think it’s wonderful to discover what makes you feel confident. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting healthy skin, healthy hair, a strong body, good teeth, flattering clothes or whatever else makes you feel like yourself. And if something genuinely bothers you and you’ve thoughtfully decide to change it, then that’s your choice. But I don’t think we should confuse improvement with inadequacy.

You don’t have to hate your face in order to improve your skincare. You don’t have to despise your body in order to become fitter. You don’t have to believe your hair is ugly in order to find a better routine for it. And you certainly don’t have to believe that your face is defective because it doesn’t conform to a particular internet template. You are allowed to improve something because you want to. You are also allowed to leave something alone because you realise it doesn’t actually need fixing. There will always be someone younger, or taller, someone with clearer skin or someone with a straighter nose. Someone with thicker hair or someone with a sharper jaw. There will always be someone who happens to fit the current beauty ideal more closely than you do. And then, five years from now, the ideal will change. What happens then? Do we undergo another transformation? Another procedure? Another round of comparison? At some point, we have to step away from the mirror. Not because our appearance doesn’t matter. But because it isn’t all that matters.

# 8. The Maximum Isn’t the Point

What does it mean to “maximise” your appearance? Maximum according to whom? According to which culture? Which decade? Which algorithm? Which celebrity? Which facial-analysis chart? There is no final version of the human face. There is only your face. The one that changes as you age. The one that expresses your personality. The one that becomes familiar to the people who love you. The one that you can see your parents in long after they’re gone. And maybe that’s where looksmaxxing reaches its limit. Because looks can get you noticed. They can create an initial spark and make someone curious. But they cannot make you a good partner or make you trustworthy. They cannot make you interesting or make someone else feel understood. And they certainly cannot make someone stay.

Perhaps the goal shouldn’t be to become the most attractive person you can possibly manufacture. Perhaps it should be to become the healthiest, happiest and most confident version of the person you already are.

So take care of your skin, move your body, wear the clothes you love, style your hair the way you want to, look after your teeth, eat well, investigate changes in your appearance that might be telling you something about your health. Improve the things that genuinely bother you, but don’t spend your life searching for defects simply because an algorithm told you that you probably have some. Your face shouldn’t be your hobby or fixation. Your appearance should be part of your life, not the entirety of it.

Because ultimately, the question isn’t: “How many people can I make look at me?” It’s: “What kind of person makes someone want to stick around?” And that is something no facial ratio can measure.