Why men are wearing make-up to get ahead at work

The men in your office might have compacts in their man bags.

As might be expected, Asia – and China in particular, are now fundamental to the growth of the beauty and personal care multinationals such as L’Oreal and Estee Lauder. There is much discussion around the beauty rituals of South Korean women and the use of whitening creams by women in India and China. Beauty trends that originated in Asia, such as Beauty Balm or “BB” creams, are now the latest in skincare in the UK.

However, less is known about a major beauty trend in Asia that is now taking off in Europe and the US – the use of make-up by men. The aim appears to be, to quote an online male make-up retailer: “… to appear fresh, perfect and simply outstanding whilst maintaining a facial finish which doesn't jeopardise your alpha male status.”

The use of make-up by males in Asia is relatively high, driven by cultural and religious phenomena. In India, for instance, kohl is a common eye make-up applied by men on special occasions. But across grooming products not so commonly associated with men, skincare and make-up, men’s share is much higher than you’d think. Across these two sectors, men account for 51 per cent of the country’s personal grooming market in India; in China it’s 41 per cent.

Men in the UK and the US still have some way to go, although the fact that men use 22 per cent of make-up and skincare combined in Britain and 23 per cent of these products in America means consumption might still be above expectations.

So what’s driving this? It’s not just about trying to be more attractive, although that will certainly drive part of this. Men are increasingly concerned about how their looks can affect their career prospects. In South Korea for example, the use of make-up by men is seen as a way to improve looks and enhance your career, with companies like Korean Air even holding cosmetics training sessions for male employees ).

Up to now, the British and American male grooming markets have been largely fixed on hand creams and the odd facial cream; few British or American men currently take inspiration from Johnny Depp’s kohl-rimmed eyes in Pirates of the Caribbean. Yet the level of sophistication of male make-up products could be improved on from the current offerings of acne concealers and stage make-up a la Tony Blair, and the launch of nail polishes for men such as Alphanail shows that this is starting to change. The offerings for men from leading beauty companies such as Clarins and L’Oreal already extend to moisturisers, scrubs and the odd flash bronzer, so watch this space: the men in your office might soon have a compact in their man bag.

Emily Neill is the CEO of Canadean – (consumer market research experts)

Trying to make CEO. Photograph: Getty Images

Emily Neil is the CEO of Canadean

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser