It was one (of many) hungover Saturday mornings. My friend and I were scrolling through Hinge when she suddenly lamented how all her matches would be “10x hotter” if they had a bleached buzzcut . Having admitted that it had become a type for her, I found myself agreeing, though I didn’t exactly understand why.
The phenomenon has been trending for some time, with plenty of celebrities experimenting with the look over the years: David and Romeo Beckham, Zayn Malik, Justin Bieber, Moses Sumney, Seth Rogen, Carlos Alcaraz, Colin Farrell, Kylian Mbappé and Odell Beckham Jr. In 2022, the hashtag #bleachbuzzcut had 15.6bn TikTok views.
More recently, the look has resurfaced via Connor Storrie’s new buzzcut while filming Heated Rivalry season two, recent chops from Erling Haaland and Nettspend, and even Vanity Fair ’s selection of model and streamer Marlon Lundgren Garcia as ‘The Face’ in its September 2026 ‘State of American Style’ portfolio.
What I’ve gathered is that there comes a time in every modern man’s life when they either, one, fantasise about buzzing off their hair and bleaching it or, two, actually do so. “For women it’s a trend, but for guys it’s a bucket list or rite of passage look,” as hair colourist David Stanko told GQ in 2017.
But where does the draw come from? “A lot of guys, whether they want to admit it or not, love their hair,” 23-year-old Oscar says.
“They think the buzzcut is some scary thing – and it can be if you’ve maybe not got the best hairline, or if you’re a bit insecure.” Part of the look’s attraction, therefore, seems to lie in the innate ballsiness it takes to get one in the first place. For Meecham Whitson Meriweather , author of the Substack newsletter Now That I Mention It , it’s “less about the hair”, and more about how it “strips everything away”.
“It’s pure confidence and beauty; it’s vulnerability: what you see is what you get.” Having one indicates – even if deceptively – a pride in one’s face card, which, in itself, is incredibly persuasive. As 22-year-old Ammara states, “the pop of blonde suggests [they’re] unafraid of being perceived/seen.
That’s hot.”
Historically, the bleached buzzcut has been linked to both ideals of hegemonic masculinity and cultural subversion. Rachael Gibson, “ The Hair Historian ”, explains how the buzzcut was traditionally used as a functional, homogenising haircut within the military and other highly regulated institutions, while one early example of men deliberately lightening their hair can be found among the Gauls , whose warriors were described as bleaching their hair with lime water to create a striking, intimidating appearance.
During the 70s, the buzzcut became linked with skinhead and punk countercultures , where, for the latter group especially, it “was intentionally threatening and non-conformist”. By the early 90s, however, it was beginning to morph into a fashion statement, with NBA star Dennis Rodman helping push the bleached buzzcut firmly into the mainstream.
Gibson tells Dazed that his look may have been inspired by Wesley Snipes’ hair in the 1993 sci-fi film Demolition Man , as it “reflected a sense of futurism and was truly different to anything else being done”. Rodman himself has since disputed that origin story, saying the resemblance was coincidental.
Either way, he retained the look’s associations with rebellion while making it distinctly his own: a defiant expression of gender and sexual fluidity that became inseparable from his public persona. Gaining momentum within subcultures like skate punk, the style increasingly bled into the mainstream through figures including Eminem and David Beckham.
But why do people find it so attractive? For many young women, part of the appeal lies in the androgyny of the bleached buzzcut – though it seems to be less about the colour itself than the willingness to bleach it in the first place.
“I think a willingness to bleach your hair signals a certain level of comfortability with femininity which is attractive,” says Joana, 23. Student Kaya says it also signals creativity.
“It’s like the new masculinity is being masculine enough to be like, fuck it, I’ll engage with feminine behaviour”. Bleaching a buzzcut, then, can read as a small rejection of more rigid ideas about masculinity.
For many, the look’s allure centres on the attention it demands and the autonomy it grants. To use Gibson’s words: “there’s a freedom in shaving everything off and creating a literal blank canvas”. Or, as Alex Brownsell, founder of Bleach London, puts it: “Bleach is to colour what buzzcuts are to length – a void defined by what isn’t rather than what is.”
For others, the appeal is that it feels safely experimental. “It’s by no means boring or traditional,” explains graduate Alex, but it’s also “in this Goldilocks zone”.
It pushes against convention without straying too far beyond the social codes he already identifies with. More than that, the look can offer an alter ego – a chance to escape your current self and briefly become the version of yourself you wish you were.
As 22-year-old Tom explains, “People think you’re cool without even speaking to you; it gives you license to be a bit crazier because people probably think you are.”
Author Kian Bakhtiari defines the performative male as “a shift from self-expression to self-curation” , and the bleached buzzcut, I would venture, sits somewhere between the two. While conveying a man’s individuality, it can also signal an awareness of the “arty, intellectual” persona he wants to project, as graduate student Ella phrases it.
Whether or not he fully embodies that identity almost becomes beside the point: the performance itself suggests that he wants to be read as interesting, expressive and, crucially, not like every other straight man.
In this way, while the bleached buzz is heavily linked to, as Gibson notes, “bad boys who are in total control of their image, DGAF about expectations, and are totally happy to do something different”, its appeal for many young women ultimately seems tied to the sense that it signals a cluster of potential green flags: artistry, empathy, originality . It’s the hairdo of the guy who is at once attractively outgoing – confident enough in his own looks to experiment with them – and a certified softboi, someone you might imagine will treat you better.
Which is perhaps why I’ve yet to hear the famous warning: “don’t date a boy with a bleached buzz”. Though I’m sure someone, somewhere, has reason to disagree.
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