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Telegraph
2 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
‘I couldn't tell where the mud ended and the poo began'
You might have a stereotype of a festival goer in mind: maybe an inebriated groupie in a band T-shirt trying to sneak backstage; a Kate Moss wannabe decked out in cutting-edge fashion, thick eyeliner and muddy wellies; or a millennial know-it-all who can name every single member of every single band, plus their birthdays and pets' middle names. But these days, there's no such thing as a typical festival goer – or even a typical festival. While music festivals such as Glastonbury or Creamfields are well known for drawing huge crowds, there are countless alternatives within the UK, from literary, wellness and family festivals to quirky events such as cheese-rolling, mud-racing and pea-shooting. Research from consumer insights platform GWI reveals that almost one in three Gen-Zers have attended a festival with their parents in the past year, while data from Mintel shows that over-55s account for a fifth of all concert-goers. It's time to rethink who festivals are for, and what a typical attendee looks like: these are the new festival goers. 'After a horrendous Glasto experience, it took me 17 years to return to a festival' Cieran Brown, 42, from Putney, London, went to Into the Wild last year and is now finally a festival convert In 2007, my mother and I decided to go to Glastonbury. She had just been through a tough year after overcoming a health diagnosis, so I thought it would be a fun thing to do together. I was 25 and she was in her early 50s and a festival virgin, but as a self-declared 'lapsed hippy', she was game to enjoy some feel-good festival vibes. We arrived on a Thursday night, pitched up our tents and braced ourselves for the long weekend ahead. What happened over the next four days made me swear off festivals for life. The wettest Glastonbury on record saw torrential rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, which lasted the entirety of the festival. The pristine green fields of Worthy Farm were soon turned into a swamp covered what could only be described as liquid mud. Getting around the quagmire of a site became almost impossible as the suction and slurping of wellies in mud became a constant. Parts of the site with the highest footfall became no-go zones, such as the front of the Pyramid Stage, which was guaranteed to make you faceplant into the sludge. As for the toilets – let's just say that I couldn't tell where the mud ended and the s--- began. After a couple of days, it became a feat of physical and mental endurance. Despite the hardship, my mum had a blast. No amount of mud was going to stop her from having a good time as she relived her youth in earnest. She got her hair braided with pink dreadlocks, and we got to see some great acts, such as Amy Winehouse, Iggy Pop and the Who. By Sunday, the site resembled a battlefield, and the optimism of day one had long since been replaced with a grinding sense of acceptance. My mum was forced to visit the welfare tent with a suspected case of trench foot, and the final straw for me was when I discovered a giant rat right outside my tent. Some people simply gave up and decided to leave early. We didn't have that luxury, as we had bought tickets that required us to travel to and from the site by coach to reduce traffic. This meant we couldn't leave till Monday morning, and as we queued to board our coach, we were handed emergency 'space blankets' by stewards. After a few hours' wait, which saw chaos and violence erupt, we finally departed for the long, wet drive home. Sitting in my sodden clothes, I vowed never to return and to enjoy festivals from afar – ideally from the comfort of my sofa. However, 17 years later, I once again found myself packing my camping gear and wellies to return to another festival, albeit a slightly smaller one in the shape of Into the Wild – a conscious and 'back to nature', family-friendly event. I was initially hesitant, but my partner convinced me to give it a go and join her and her eight-year-old daughter for three days of workshops, music and community. The main difference between this festival and Glastonbury was its emphasis on workshops celebrating 'connection, creativity and nourishing heart and soul by helping humans to rewild'. On our arrival at the site in Sussex, I felt badly out of place and deeply cynical of the harem pants, crystals, nose rings and man-buns adorning the predominantly white, middle-class crowd. Despite my reservations, we pitched our tents under glorious sunshine and clear blue skies and bedded down. Overnight, however, it started to rain and I began to fear the worst. It was late August and, against my better judgment, we didn't bring a brolly. Despite this rookie mistake, and apart from the occasional wet spell, the weather was largely sunny and warm over the weekend. I tentatively explored the site and attended various workshops over the next two days, including breathwork sessions, laughter yoga, men's sharing circles, drum jams and forest bathing. The biggest challenge was keeping my partner's daughter entertained – she felt too old for the kids' area but too young to join the adults, making it feel like we had a moody teenager reluctantly tagging along. By the end of the weekend, I found myself relaxing as my overworked nervous system was able to switch off and disconnect from the modern world (reception was non-existent). This made me cherish quality time with my partner and her daughter, and to foster new connections, even if some of the more hippyish and woo-woo sections were challenging to my inner cynic. I felt sad to be leaving, and I have since made plans to return with my partner, who will be facilitating at this year's event as a somatic art therapist. As for a return to Glastonbury, I am still on the fence. But I could have my arm twisted by a luxury yurt – weather dependent, of course. 'I went to my first festival in my 60s' Julia Phillips, 70, a group finance director from Gosport, Hampshire, attended her first festival, The Big Retreat, five years ago I have two wonderful children and four beautiful grandchildren who I adore wholeheartedly. I raised my children as a single parent from when they were just five and seven years old. My career really took off when my children were teenagers. I worked in marine engineering and later became the group finance director for a group of construction companies. Life was full – raising my children and building a career took all of my time and energy. As the business grew, so did the hours I worked. I rarely took time off, and in hindsight, that wasn't the healthiest choice. Festivals just weren't on my radar back then. I've always loved the outdoors and I'm passionate about wellbeing and music, so when the opportunity arose to go to one when friends invited me to The Big Retreat, it felt like the right time. I'm always up for an adventure and open to new experiences. I was a little apprehensive. I wasn't sure what to expect – what kind of people would be there, what the facilities would be like, or how I'd manage sleeping in a tent. But curiosity won out. In the end, I absolutely loved it. What touched me most were the people contributing their time and talents, sharing deeply personal stories or resources, but there were also live bands, disco nights and loads of amazing food stalls. I did yoga, went on beautiful walks, danced my socks off in the fitness zone, sang in the church, laughed like crazy in the laughter club, and had some peaceful moments by the estuary, sitting on hay bales. I even tried the ice bath, which was absolutely freezing but the feeling afterwards was incredible. Then I'd dance the night away again. It was full-on joy, pure happiness. There was this amazing sense of togetherness. It really did feel like medicine for the soul. Everyone was open, kind and on the same wavelength. Even the tent and loo situation was better than I expected. It was lovely to say 'good morning' to your tent neighbours and feel like part of a little community. The loos were cleaned regularly, the showers were warm and even the washing-up area turned into a place for a good natter. I wore comfy leggings, vest tops, a warm jumper for the evenings, and switched between trainers and walking boots depending on the day. I had my trusty yoga mat with me everywhere and a water bottle to keep hydrated. While I'd brought snacks and breakfast bits, most of the time I treated myself to food from the stalls. I met people on yoga mats, in queues, during workshops and more, and some of those connections have turned into real friendships that I still cherish. I've always felt young at heart, and the festival had this energy where age just didn't matter. I never once felt like I didn't belong. If anything, it actually made me feel younger. Being around all kinds of people, all doing their thing and enjoying themselves was uplifting. The whole experience was such a lovely reminder that fun, learning and joy don't come with an age limit. I've been back every year since, bar the pandemic, and I've booked to return in 2025, not just to attend but to teach my Move Through the Chakras class, something I was inspired to do thanks to The Big Retreat. Who would have thought that after four years as a festival goer, I'd be performing at one at the age of 70? Life is full of surprises, and I'm here for them all. I have no regrets about not going to one sooner; that's not my nature. I believe in embracing life as it comes and being grateful when you finally discover something that brings you joy. It's never too late. 'I go to festivals with my mum' Emma Chandler, 28, a lawyer from Surbiton, London, took her mother, Helena, 67, a retired analyst, to Glastonbury last year, and clips of them enjoying themselves even made it on to the BBC and went viral on TikTok (@emacrosstheworld). Mum is my best friend – we get on really well and do everything together. So when my cousin suggested we go to Glastonbury all together to celebrate my aunt's 70th birthday, I didn't hesitate. It didn't once cross my mind that it would be embarrassing to go with Mum; I knew it would be amazing, even though she'd never been to one before. Obviously there is always going to be a bit of a culture shock at Glasto – that's half the reason people go. We saw some naked people and some interesting outfits, and there were a lot of drugs. Mum was surprised about how brazen people were, pulling bags out in front of crowds of people. We were all a bit horrified about the loo situation – the smell is something none of us will forget. But Mum was the one giving everyone in the queue loo roll and hand sanitiser. I have to confess we did splash out to go glamping and slept on camp beds, but while it might have been comfortable, nothing could block out the sound of snoring in the tent behind us. The tents were off site, so we had a 10 to 15-minute walk on top of wherever we wanted to go. Regular Glastonbury goers will know that the site is huge, so we ended up doing more than 30,000 steps a day. Thankfully Mum is quite fit, so she was OK, but we took lots of breaks and sat and watched people to save our legs for the headliners. It was just brilliant to see her dancing to drum and bass, pushing her way to the front and getting into daily fancy dress. But the highlight had to be watching Coldplay. The group has massive meaning to my family: my dad and I used to listen to Viva La Vida on full blast driving down the motorway, so experiencing that live with my mum was very emotional. (My dad doesn't like crowds, so he'd never do a festival – he's more of a beach holiday fan.) During their set, she got up onto my shoulders, and that was picked up by the BBC television cameras. People saw her on my shoulders, and loved it. The fact she even got on television was beyond her wildest dreams – she's rewatched the set about 10 times since. I posted our experience on TikTok, thinking it would just be a cute memory – seeing it go viral was crazy. I'd posted a bit before but had never had a response like that. As we drove home, I read Mum all of the beautiful comments from strangers. They called her an inspiration, and that's what she is for me. The thought of her bringing so much positivity and light to more people just made me so happy. I'd recommend anyone taking their mum to Glastonbury.
Times
2 days ago
- Health
- Times
I'm a tracker sceptic. Would these cutting-edge devices convert me?
In fitness terms, I am what might be termed an anti-tracker. I ditched most wearable devices a couple of years ago and, aside from my daily steps, I don't monitor my activity or any of the data related to it, including my heart rate, stride length, cadence, breathing efficiency, relative effort and elevation gains. I don't upload my runs or workouts to Strava, Runkeeper or Apple Fitness, so I don't receive likes or 'kudos' — and yet I feel better for it. My body is sufficiently attuned to my state of fitness or fatigue to let me know when I should push or ease off. I don't need a wristband to tell me. However, when it comes to general health and medical issues, I'll reluctantly concede that I might benefit from more of a regular insight. At 56, I am at the prime age for things to start falling apart and for early signs of age-related decline to set in. As yet I have no problems to report but am surrounded by apparently fit and healthy friends who thought the same until midlife got the better of them and their heart, blood sugar, sleep or joints took a turn for the worse. While it pains me to consider daily tracking, I am prepared to give it a go, albeit in the knowledge that continuous monitoring and feedback from such devices can, ironically, bring its own health issues. • Why we don't need to fear AI — and how to use it for your mental health In the most recent wearable technology report by Mintel, the market research company, a survey of more than 2,000 smart watch owners found that 48 per cent confirmed tracking health data made them more stressed about their health, rising to 57 per cent of people who own smartwatches. Other researchers have blamed sleep trackers for causing 'orthosomnia', defined as the obsessive pursuit of perfect sleep and cited as a reason why sleep might get worse rather than better when wearing one. I have friends who can't seem to function without a health prompt or update from their phones. The last thing I want is to become one of the worried well. As a sceptic, what would a week of tracking my health teach me, if anything at all? Here's what I discovered:F Tracker Lingo (from £59 for a two-week starter plan including two sensors; How it works A continuous blood glucose monitor (CGM) is a plastic disc that attaches to the back of your upper arm and measures how much sugar is in the fluid surrounding your cells every few minutes via tiny needle-like sensors that sit beneath the skin. Data is sent to an app on your phone in real-time and you get alerted if your glucose levels are too high, a risk factor for type 2 diabetes, or too low. The idea is that you gain a better understanding of how to maintain stable blood glucose levels that might positively impact your mood, sleep and food cravings. Poor blood glucose management has also been linked to weight gain. What it told me According to Lingo, a normal blood glucose range is within 3.9-7.9 millimoles per litre, although it simplifies this with a single target called your Lingo Count. Mine was initially pre-set at a standard 60 — my goal being to stay below that — but after a week Lingo adjusted the target to 50. Following a fasted morning run, my count was low (16) and eating my late morning porridge with berries, my morning staple, didn't raise it out of range. A cocktail at the weekend saw it hit 80 temporarily, but generally, as expected, it peaked after meals. • The glucose gender gap: how would our spikes compare? Verdict I have tried a couple of other CGM devices in the past and found them frustratingly tricky to administer. My first attempts to extract the two Lingo monitors, produced by Abbott, from their containers failed and the tiny needles broke so I had to order more. They are designed to be worn for seven days but, even with adhesive stickers to keep them in place, one of the replacements came off in the shower after 36 hours. Although the app was easy to download and digest, I found some of the advice irrelevant. On an afternoon when I barely had time to eat I was warned my blood sugar count might be escalating. After a morning run and dog walk followed by breakfast I received an alert to do 5-10 minutes of calf raises to mitigate a blood sugar rise. I would be reluctant to continue, particularly after research at the University of Bath published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition last month suggested there is not much point as CGMs provide misleading results. In their study, researchers measured blood sugar responses in healthy volunteers (non-diabetic and a healthy weight) using either a CGM (in this case Abbott's Freestyle Libre 2) and the gold standard finger-prick test. The CGMs overestimated the time spent above a normal blood sugar level threshold by nearly 400 per cent, potentially causing unnecessary anxiety. 'CGMs are fantastic tools for people with diabetes because even if a measurement isn't perfectly accurate, it's still better than not having a measurement at all,' says Professor Javier Gonzalez, a nutrition and metabolism researcher who led the study. 'However, for someone with good glucose control they can be misleading based on their current performance.' Relying on CGMs could also lead to unnecessary food restrictions or poor dietary choices, Gonzalez says. In the trial, whole fruit was misclassified as medium or high-GI foods by the CGMs, while a finger-prick test showed they were low-GI with minimal adverse effect on blood sugar. I can see it might become an obsession but I question the purpose — and cost — of doing it long term. • My Oura Ring is now the third person in our marriage Tracker Hilo cuff and wristband (£209.99; How it works Blood pressure is assessed using the Hilo cuff, which is attached to the upper arm via a Velcro strap and inflates to take the average of three separate readings. Continuous daily blood pressure is then calibrated and recorded via the wrist-worn strap with all results downloaded to an accompanying app, which is free for the basic daytime and nighttime monitoring but costs £4.99 per month for added insights, analytics and syncing with the Apple Health app on your iPhone. A monthly recalibration using the cuff is required. What it told me A blood pressure reading consists of two numbers: the top number is your systolic pressure, the highest level your blood pressure reaches during a heartbeat; the bottom number is your diastolic reading, the lowest level your blood pressure hits between heartbeats. A normal blood pressure range is between 90/60mmHg (millimetres of mercury, a unit of pressure) and 120/80mmHg. For me, the stats were unchanging and within the normal range day and night with a reading of 118/79. Verdict Advice from the NHS is to get blood pressure tested every five years once you get to 40, and you can get tested for free at a community pharmacy from this age. It is a good idea to check it more frequently once you have had a professional reading, especially if you take HRT or have heart disease in the family (neither for me) in which case you should consult your GP. Dr Nikhil Ahluwalia, a cardiology registrar at Barts Heart Centre in London, says the Hilo cuff is one of the home devices that is accurate and easy to use, but he doesn't recommend continuous screening. Blood pressure ebbs and flows on a daily basis, he says, and if you don't have existing hypertension, then once or twice a month is probably often enough. 'There's no evidence that continuous monitoring of blood pressure offers benefits unless prescribed by your GP,' Ahluwalia says. I did love the strap for its simplicity — it's slimline and has no flashing lights or bright screens so you do forget you are wearing it. However, the NHS recommends measuring blood pressure on the upper arm, not the wrist or finger. Tracker Oura Ring (from £349; How it works A ring containing sensors that is worn on your index or middle finger. Connects to an app that provides a daily range of sleep (and other health) stats and an overall 'sleep efficiency' score. What it told me I am a smug sleeper and have never felt the need to use a tracker to confirm I get enough rest at night or that I might need more after an interrupted night. Results confirmed my status as a sleep queen as I was awarded a crown by the app for 'optimal sleeping' with an efficiency (time asleep versus time awake) score of 89. My total nightly sleep ranged from 7hr 7min (woken by the dog barking at a fox in the garden) and a blissful 7hr 56min over the bank holiday weekend. On average, my sleep latency — the time it takes to drop off — was 12 minutes. My Ring told me I got an average of 1hr 23min each night of deep sleep, the type that leaves you refreshed and alert the next day. It did suggest I fidget a lot — I was advised to 'pay attention' to my restfulness, although I'm not sure how I'd address this when I am sleeping so soundly. • Seven things we get wrong about sleep and how to fix them Verdict I don't like wearing a watch at night and when my partner wears his I swear it lights up the entire room. If I felt the need to monitor my sleep, a ring would be the least invasive means of recording my shut-eye. Results were easy to read and digest — although you can lose yourself if you delve into the endless graphs and charts — and I only needed to recharge it once in seven days. However, studies show that no tracker is a match for gold-standard polysomnography tests that measure brain waves, heart rate, breathing, blood oxygen levels and body movements during sleep through electrodes attached to the skin and scalp. A study by Yale University scientists found sleep trackers to be accurate only 78 per cent of the time, dropping to 38 per cent when it comes to measuring how long it takes people to drop off, so I am taking the results with a pinch of salt. Tracker Apple Watch (from £219; How it works There are dozens of health-tracking options on the Apple Watch, but I used it to gauge my heart health and set it to alert me to very high or low heart rates. There's also an electrocardiogram (ECG) feature, activated by placing an index finger on the digital crown of the watch for 30 seconds, which records heart rhythm via an electrical sensor and detects irregularities. It can be used to determine your risk of atrial fibrillation (AFib), which occurs when electrical impulses that trigger muscle contractions of the heart misfire chaotically. Left undiagnosed or untreated, AFib raises the risk for stroke and heart failure. Results are logged on the Apple Health app and a pdf of ECG readings can be shared with your GP. What it told me I don't routinely track my heart rate, but over the years I have been told my resting heart rate (beats per minute or bpm when sitting or lying down) is lower than the average 60-100bpm, which is probably a hangover from hard endurance training in my teens and twenties. I set the watch to alert me if it dipped below 45bpm but its repeated pinging suggested it wondered if I was alive with my daily average of 39bpm. That got me googling slow heart rates, termed bradycardia, and stressing about whether I needed to see a GP, which the British Heart Foundation suggests might be necessary if it is accompanied by fatigue. • Apple's Siri texts 'Do you have cancer?' to woman awaiting biopsy Am I more tired than normal? That's something even the watch can't tell me, although Ahluwalia says I don't need to worry. 'If your heart rate is suddenly much lower than normal it is a cause for concern,' he says. 'If low is your normal range, then it is OK.' I also did daily ECG readings for the week which confirmed at least I was not in the at-risk range for AFib. Verdict All heart health data (including cardiovascular fitness, walking heart rate, ECGs and cardio recovery) are neatly stored together in the Health app on an iPhone so it is easy to access. It was encouraging that several studies, including a 2023 paper published in the journal Cureus, and cardiologists I spoke to support Apple Watch technology for monitoring heart health. I can see myself checking it periodically — provided I remember to wear my Apple Watch.
The Independent
24-05-2025
- The Independent
Is it safe for two women to wild camp? What I learnt from a Dartmoor expedition
As a queer woman in my early thirties, I'm not a stereotypical wild camper: neither a solo man nor half of an outdoorsy heterosexual couple. I never camped as a child on family holidays and the first time I put up a tent was last year at the Knepp Rewilding Project in Sussex. But camping sans toilets and a designated site with electricity, rubbish bins and clean water has been a fascination of mine since reading Raynor Winn's The Salt Path during lockdown. In the book, Winn documents wild camping with her husband along the South West Coast Path from Somerset to Dorset. It wasn't just me gravitating to the great outdoors either, as post-pandemic Mintel research found that 4.5 million Brits went camping for the first time when restrictions eased. I've wanted to wild camp since then with my girlfriend, but she was hesitant. Was it safe in the wild for people like us? Only anecdotal evidence exists for LGBT+ camping, and few UK wild camping statistics are on-hand, bar a 2022 study by the Scottish Government that found 4 per cent of Brits had wild camped and were likely to be male and under 55. Being in a minority, I was determined to pave a way. With the company of a female friend in lieu of my girlfriend, the question stood: can two women in their mid-thirties safely embrace the wild? It's worth knowing that in England we only have the legal right to wild camp across designated areas of Dartmoor National Park in Devon, while you can request permission from landowners elsewhere. The same law applies in Wales and Northern Ireland, but wild camping in Scotland carries no restrictions at all and offers more freedom. Living in London, my pal and I plumped for Dartmoor, and we set off at dawn on a very rainy Saturday. Keen to make the most of the weekend, we intended to drive to Dartmoor after work the day before, but yellow weather warnings and the idea of pitching a new tent for the first time in darkness on a boggy moor canned that plan. Unlike with a traditional campsite, picking a hiking route and camping spot in the vastness of Dartmoor takes proper planning. The ever-shrinking Dartmoor Camping Map dictates where you can legally pitch up, so through-hikes have to be methodically (and conservatively) timed to ensure you have enough daylight. For our first hike, we chose beginner-friendly Great Mis Tor because it was a straight-line 40-minute hike from a car park, meaning there was little chance of getting lost, and we could always head back to our vehicle in an emergency. However, even straight-line routes shouldn't be taken for granted as there aren't signs or paths telling you where to go, and Dartmoor is mostly formless and incredibly misty. This means that sometimes it will just be you in the middle of thick fog with no indicator of where to go next. It was also important to brush up on my basic compass and map-reading skills, with the added comfort of impressive navigation using a Garmin fenix 7 pro solar GPS watch (more on my kit list below, although tech is never to be solely relied upon). We gave ourselves ample time to pitch up, because the strong winds of Dartmoor mean you need to find a spot within the tor that offers the best shelter and is flat and dry enough to not sink into a bog during the night. If wild camping in winter, keep a close eye on sunset times. We started pitching at 3pm, which meant by sunset at 4:30pm we were comfortably tucking into dinner with a whisky hot chocolate in the Thermos. Sitting in the pitch-black of the night, gazing up at stars (when passing fog allowed) in silence bar the whistling of the wind, isolated from any other humans and knowing there were about 30 Dartmoor ponies grazing below was pure magic. The only moment of alarm came when a pair of head torches, beaming in our direction, got closer and closer. After feeling an initial sense of panic, we were relieved to meet two lovely photographers pitched up at a neighbouring tor on a night shoot. Phew. Following a cosy night's sleep and picture-perfect sunrise, horizontal rain and gale force winds soon set in. We quickly packed up a soggy tent and hiked a few beginner-friendly tors a short drive away near Widecombe in the Moor. These included Top Tor, Pil Tor and then Blackslade Down to eye up a wild camping spot for when we return in the spring and attempt the Ten Tors through-hike. A hearty warm meal at nearby Cafe on the Green to thaw out was a treat before the five-hour drive home. During this trip I learnt that, while winter wild camping is no joke, it is freeing. We were enveloped with open arms and welcomed to share in the majesty of the wild. This shared sense of looking after the great outdoors is found in the Dartmoor National Park's Backpack Camping Code, which implores wild campers to take rubbish home and only stay one or two nights, among other rules. Recent news coverage about wild camping and the British wilderness further highlights how precious this outdoor space is. On Wednesday (May 21) a multi-millionaire landowning couple lost a Supreme Court case to restrict wild camping on Dartmoor following a long-running legal dispute. Additionally, the Right to Roam campaign is continuously working to expand the amount of English countryside walkers and campers are legally allowed to pass through. The main safety concerns I'd flag for future wild camping trips involve the practical art of survival. This includes access to clean drinking water (I used LifeStraw water filters, and you must plan a route that passes rivers or streams frequently enough to refill), as well as packing layers and waterproof clothing, because undoubtedly you'll get caught in the rain for hours like we did on the second day. It doesn't take long to get dangerously cold, so dry bags are essential for your backpack as well. Finally, proper navigational tools, such as a compass, OS Dartmoor map, and a GPS device are crucial. It takes time and diligence to plan a wild camping trip, and much more can be done to offer easily accessible information, especially for beginners. But it's worth it. As the cost-of-living crisis continues to bite and travellers are increasingly conscious about their carbon footprints, wild camping in the UK is an affordable (once you've invested in the kit) and local means of enjoying a break. It turns out, wild camping is not just for confident, rugged men. This Dartmoor trip was an opportunity to spend quality time with my mate, get some exercise and fresh air, and treasure this spectacular planet we are so lucky to call home.
The Citizen
15-05-2025
- Business
- The Citizen
Are men driving the skincare boom? Here's why the industry is growing
In South Africa, the cosmetics sector is expanding at a rate of more than 15% annually, with skincare leading the way. Skincare has broken out of the beauty aisle and into the mainstream, with men now just as invested as women, turning what was once a female-focused ritual into a booming, billion-dollar industry. The skincare business is expected to double in the next decade, making it one of the fastest-growing segments in the global beauty industry. In South Africa, the cosmetics sector is expanding at a rate of more than 15% annually, with skincare leading the way. What drives the interest in skincare? According to a report titled 'The Cosmetics Industry in South Africa', released in September 2024, the industry's growth rate is attributed to evolving consumer behaviour, increasing digital engagement and rising disposable income. Genasha Naidoo, Managing Director at Beiersdorf, said with consumers prioritising long-term results, ingredient transparency and science-backed efficacy, skincare has become one of the most resilient and future-focused corners of the beauty landscape. 'For business leaders and investors, this points to more than just consumer preference. It signals a moment of strategic opportunity. 'Skincare is a category with depth, longevity and the ability to meet diverse consumer needs while supporting sustainable growth. But what's driving that growth, and how can brands harness it?' ALSO READ: Look younger in just two hours — no surgery, no creams required! Consumers investing in skincare She added that many sectors in the country have faced economic uncertainty; however, the beauty industry is resilient, as people still prioritise their appearance. To support this, she refers to a 2023 study titled 'The beauty boom and beyond: Can the industry maintain its growth?'. It showed that skincare accounts for 44% of the global beauty market, growing 6% year-on-year. 'Consumers are investing in skincare in new ways, driven by a desire for preventative, sustainable and effective care.' This resilience is driven by the category's emotional relevance and functional promise. As skincare becomes more aligned with wellness, consumers are viewing products as long-term investments rather than short-term fixes. This makes the category more insulated from macroeconomic shifts and more valuable as a brand-building and revenue-driving space. More men using skincare products A surge in men using skincare products could also be behind the industry's resilience. Data from Mintel shows an increasing number of men are using skincare products. The company specialises in what consumers want and why. It attributed this shift to increased education and social media influence. According to a report released in July 2024, skincare products are popular among Gen Zs in the United States (US). 'Facial skincare is especially popular among men between the ages of 18-27, with 68% using facial skincare, compared to 42% in 2022, showcasing a significant opportunity for brands to focus on these increasingly engaged demographics,' reads the report. Carson Kitzmiller, Senior Analyst at Mintel, said their research indicates a growing market for male skincare products, as younger men are increasingly willing to invest in higher-end products. Their data show that 42% of men between the ages of 18 and 34 buy premium facial moisturisers over mass-market brands. While 46% of their respondents said the key factor when buying products is the use of clean ingredients. Industry's worth to double in a decade Naidoo said skincare lies in its ability to command higher price points. Customers are no longer buying the products, but performance. 'This growing demand for advanced formulations, dermatologist-backed routines and high-efficacy ingredients is pushing the premium skincare market to new heights.' Research has shown that the global personalised skin care products market size is calculated at $30.63 billion in 2024, grew to $33.09 billion in 2025, and is projected to reach around $66.37 billion by 2034. 'Importantly, this shift is not driven by branding alone. It reflects the influence of a more informed and more discerning consumer. 'As skincare knowledge deepens, the 'educated consumer' is not just influencing buying behaviour but also fuelling innovation,' she added. ALSO READ: Glow up this February: Expert shares must-have skincare products AI and skincare Naidoo said the demand for personalisation is no longer limited to luxury; it has become a mass-market expectation. From customised serums to AI-led diagnostics, skincare is evolving into a highly tailored experience, and this shift is translating into real revenue. 'Take brands offering AI skin assessments: these tools generate product recommendations based on real-time skin data, creating a more relevant and repeatable experience. For businesses, this unlocks stronger lifetime value, higher average order value and improved retention.' The ability to serve smaller, more specific needs creates room for niche brands to scale. As consumers seek products that cater to their unique skin types, tones, and concerns, being hyper-specific is no longer a limitation; it is a growth strategy. 'The beauty industry is evolving, and skincare is emerging as a key growth opportunity. With rising demand, premium potential, digital innovation and strong values alignment, it offers brands both profitability and purpose.' NOW READ: Must try beauty trend: Get the latest glass-skin look
Forbes
15-05-2025
- Business
- Forbes
Beauty Supply Stores Are Caught In Trade Tariffs Cross Hairs
Young African woman shopping in zero waste store U.S. tariffs on Chinese imports continue to squeeze supply chains, beauty brands are finding themselves caught in the crossfire. For Black consumers who drive more than $9 billion in beauty product spending annually these tariffs are having a major impact. Many of the beauty brands they shop with rely on affordable packaging, containers, and raw materials from abroad, and these new cost burdens threaten to push smaller players out of the market. S&P Global reported that tariffs on Chinese goods have come down to 30% from 145%, but can still increase production costs for many companies. Major corporations may absorb these changes, but indie small brands often can't. The Black hair care market's value exceeds $2.5 billion in this country, according to Mintel, which depends heavily on Chinese manufacturers, putting enormous pressure on product availability and prices. For some store owners, Chinese manufacturers supply about 90% of items found in beauty stores. CultureBanx noted they provide everything needed in the industry, from wefts used in sew-ins to ingredients like shea butter for ethnic hair care products. Black consumers make up about 70% of beauty supply market spending and trade policies affect all retailers, though Black-owned businesses suffer more due to existing inequities. The numbers paint a grim picture since Crunchbase reported that investment in Black-owned businesses dropped to $705 million in 2023, a 71% decline that marks the lowest point since 2016. Lack of capital hits Black hair stores across the country hard as this tariff crisis continues to play out. "Black beauty entrepreneurs already face systemic barriers within the supply chain, including limited access to capital to place large bulk orders that could help offset tariff costs," explains Tomi Talabi, founder of the Black Beauty Club told Essence. The tariff effects ripple out further because Black-owned brands are significant employers in their communities and often support other Black businesses through their supply chains. So when trade policy tightens, it doesn't just hit one company, it disrupts an entire ecosystem of cultural and economic empowerment. Government trade decisions rarely consider these cultural ripple effects. Without inclusive policy reform or tariff exemptions for small-scale importers, Black entrepreneurship in beauty could be priced out of its own success story. This is more than a supply chain issue, it's a culture cost. The texture of beauty shouldn't be reshaped by foreign policy. Purchasing power, when directed toward these beauty businesses, helps stores survive external pressures. However, if the pressure continues to mount, direct-to-consumer channels offer promising ways to bypass traditional store font issues to make sure all your beauty supply needs continue to be met.
