A new phenomenon is gripping the nation’s youth, and it is not a TikTok dance. It is called 'cosmeticorexia,' a term coined by dermatologists to describe an obsession with anti-ageing skincare among pre-teen and teenage girls. And the market, as ever, is responding with ruthless efficiency. But at what cost to the balance sheet of the next generation?
The trend, amplified by social media algorithms that serve up potent acids and retinols to children, has sparked concern among medical professionals. Campaigners, including the British Association of Dermatologists, are now calling for regulation. They want age restrictions on the sale of high-strength active ingredients and a crackdown on influencer marketing that targets young consumers.
Let us look at the numbers. The global skincare market was valued at $145.3 billion in 2023, with the UK accounting for a sizeable chunk. The children’s skincare segment, virtually non-existent a decade ago, is now growing at an annual rate of 7.2 per cent. Brands like Drunk Elephant, The Ordinary and CeraVe are household names among 11-year-olds. Drunk Elephant, a brand that charges £60 for a moisturiser, has become a status symbol in the playground. The economics are simple: high margins, low barriers to entry, and a captive audience with sticky brand loyalty.
But there is a darker side to this balance sheet. Dermatologists report a surge in contact dermatitis, chemical burns and allergic reactions among young patients. The problem is that these products are formulated for adult skin, which has a thicker stratum corneum and lower pH. A 12-year-old’s skin is a thin, fragile barrier; applying glycolic acid or retinol is like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. The long-term damage is unknown, but early signs point to premature ageing, hyperpigmentation and scarring.
This is a classic market failure: information asymmetry. The sellers know the risks; the buyers do not. And the influencers, those unregulated pied pipers of commerce, have no incentive to disclose them. The government’s response has been characteristically sluggish. While France has banned influencer marketing for cosmetic procedures, the UK has merely issued guidance. The Advertising Standards Authority has received complaints, but its enforcement is as effective as a wet paper bag.
The call for regulation has merit. Age restrictions on sales would be a start, akin to those on alcohol and tobacco. But enforcement would be tricky. Online retailers can verify age, but the high street is a different story. Boots and Superdrug have a duty of care, but they are also profit-driven enterprises. They are unlikely to voluntarily turn away customers. The answer may lie in product reformulation: creating skincare lines specifically for younger skin, with lower concentrations of active ingredients. Some brands, like Byoma and Bubble, have seized this opportunity. But the market equilibrium is far from stable.
There is a broader issue here, one that cannot be solved by regulation alone. The obsession with perfection, fuelled by filtered selfies and curated Instagram feeds, is a cultural problem. It is a psychological tax on the young. The Treasury may not collect it, but society pays the price. The cost of treating cosmeticorexia-related conditions will fall on the NHS, a burden that will only grow as these children age.
Investors should take note. The skincare boom among children is a bubble. When the regulatory hammer falls, it will pop. And there will be casualties. Companies that target children aggressively will face lawsuits, reputation damage, and boycotts. The smart money is on ethical brands that age-gate their marketing and invest in education. But in the short term, expect volatility.
The Bank of England might not be watching cosmeticorexia, but it should be. This is a microcosm of a larger trend: the financialisation of youth. From vaping to gambling, the market has a voracious appetite for new consumers. The state must step in to correct the market failure, or face the consequences. A stitch in time saves nine; an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. The fiscal arithmetic is clear. The cost of regulation is far lower than the cost of healthcare, litigation and lost productivity.
So, to the Chancellor, I say this: do not wait for the crisis. Act now. Impose age restrictions, mandate clear labelling, and fund public health campaigns. The bottom line is that the market left to its own devices will exploit the vulnerable. And there is nothing efficient about that.
