Ever wondered how women used to take care of themselves before hydration started arriving in dropper bottles and a synthetically pink price tag? I didn’t. My family made sure I knew early on, which, at some point, led me to start questioning what on earth was happening in everyone else’s bathrooms. Exactly the reason I went generation-hopping, starting from the early 1900s, looking for beauty secrets. And I expected folklore. What I got was closer to ingredients you’d normally associate with cooking, cleaning, or emergency situations. To be clear, this is about what went on the body, not into it. Although I am personally not above grabbing a chunk of ginger like it’s a medically licensed intervention. Fair warning: not everything here would make it past a dermatologist’s desk today. Proceed mentally, not practically.
The Greatest Generation (1901-1927)
Sadly, there’s only one woman from that era whose beauty habits I can actually speak for. No research needed to guess she took care of herself, she’s my late great-grandmother. Good thing she makes up for five. I’ve still never seen hair better than hers. I’ve also only ever seen it worn one particular way. Look at her from the front and you’d only see a scarf, neatly tied around her head. From the back, two alarmingly long braids appeared, and just before they hit the floor, they were woven into each other, forming one continuous loop of beautiful gray hair. I always thought they could double as a jump rope.
The benefit, if you can call it that, was brutal simplicity. No heat damage, no styling damage, no anything damage. Just hair that was left alone long enough to survive itself. Of course, the hairstyle alone wasn’t enough for a 1920s-born Rapunzel. It was strictly olive oil bar soap, combs, air-dried by default, and if extra shine was ever needed, a bowl of literal ash sat in the corner. Turns out, it is highly alkaline, removing oil until the hair is stripped back to absolute basics, looking shinier by absence.
Silent Generation (1928-1945)
If the previous generation relied on leaving their hair alone, this one clearly didn’t trust stillness. We’ve all heard about the 100 strokes a day myth. My grandmother remembers it a little differently. Sugar water was, apparently, the hairspray. Mixed and left to dry, it formed a sticky layer that kept everything exactly where it was supposed to be, along with anything else that happened to come into contact with it. That alone could justify the 100 strokes. Butter occasionally made its way onto the face, not exactly as skincare, but because animal fats were one of the few things available that could keep the skin from cracking during harsh winters.
Baby Boomers (1946-1964)
My other grandmother split her time between two places, Greece’s Epirus, filled with goats, and Germany’s Cologne, filled with beer. Unsurprisingly, both ended up having their place in a beauty routine. Goat yoghurt was used as a face mask, soothing, gently exfoliating, and deeply moisturizing, with a pH close enough to the skin’s to support its natural microbiome. Of course, back then, it was just “softening.” Beer was used as a hair rinse, with its proteins supposedly adding lift and volume to limp hair. It was also credited with managing oily scalps, reducing dandruff, and making frizz slightly more obedient.
Generation X (1965-1980)
My mother falls squarely into that category, the closest a human can get to a Sphynx cat, hair-wise at least. I don’t really think that woman even knows how to use a razor. The only thing she’s ever done is halawa, better known as sugaring. Made mostly from sugar, water, and lemon, applied warm, removed quickly, and designed to take hair out from the root while simultaneously exfoliating the skin. She has also seen her cousins and girlfriends apply lemon straight to their faces, for its citric acid, which offered a quick sense of brightness and cleanliness, along with a high chance of irritation.
Generation Y (1981-1996)
I’ve seen my cousin use lemon a bit more creatively. A spray bottle hated to see her coming during the summertime. Paired with chamomile and endlessly misted under the sun, to lighten the hair, of course. Once that little routine was over, rosemary oil would follow as a scalp treatment, for circulation, hair growth, and everything in between, plus a bit of shine to make it look like something was happening right away.
I also reached out to a friend of mine I swore would give me fifty recipes. Turns out, her oil of choice before a shower is olive oil, moisturizing the hair, softening it, reducing breakage, and keeping the scalp relatively calm. My favorite though, was a face mask she fully believed in. Water and yeast. Supposedly antibacterial (nicotinic acid and all), good for collagen and cell renewal, decent at holding moisture, and responsible for that slightly glowy look. This, I’d try.
Generation Z (1997-2012)
And last but not least, my fellow Gen Z-ers. For this, I spoke to two friends of mine, one a model, the other fully skincare-obsessed. Apparently, both start their mornings by plunging their faces into a bowl of water and ice. It helps with puffiness and swelling, and is said to promote lymphatic drainage. I used to stick to a single ice cube, but clearly, that’s no longer enough. Another girl, another hair oil. The first one talked me through pumpkin seed oil, mainly for its supposed ability to block DHT (a hormone behind hair loss), and support growth over time with its fatty acids. The other, thankfully, didn’t even mention hair (one more oil and I’d lose it). Instead, she swears by a sugar-based lip scrub with coffee and honey, which, to be fair, I believe in, mostly because even plain sugar gets the job done in a hurry.
I’ve had a moment with DIY face masks myself, turmeric here, yoghurt there, honey somewhere in between. Short-lived, at best. One thing I would say, rethink body creams and deodorants. “Fragrance” is code for a cocktail of chemicals you’re expected not to question, and the rest of the label doesn’t exactly invite confidence either. Pure shea butter melts into oil within seconds on the skin, add a drop or two of your favorite essential oil, and there you have it, intense nourishment. As for deodorant, our underarm glands welcome way more into our body than you’d think. There are plenty of natural options, fruit-based, tree-oil-based, all proudly free of words you might struggle with. Golden rule: if it kills your tongue a little, think twice.
