If you walk Cabrillo Boulevard on a soft morning — the kind when the ocean seems to breathe with you — you’ll meet the familiar Santa Barbara cast: retirees with binoculars tilted toward pelicans, dog walkers negotiating treaties with their terriers, cyclists shimmering in Lycra, surfers greeting the dawn like an old companion.
And lately, you may see something new: young men on East Beach practicing their jawlines.
Not metaphorically. Earnestly. Hopefully.
They tilt their chins, adjust their posture, and follow the curious rituals of “looksmaxxing” — an online movement that promises self-improvement through optimizing one’s face and body.
Beauty becomes a kind of salvation, symmetry, a scripture. And presiding over it all is a livestreamer named Clavicular, part coach, part performance artist, part wandering parable.
Santa Barbara has always been a place for seekers. People come here looking for the perfect wave, the perfect breath, the perfect Pinot.
So perhaps it’s no surprise that some arrive seeking the perfect face — or at least a face that feels like a doorway into belonging.
At its gentlest, looksmaxxing is simply the desire to care for oneself:
- Sunscreen as an act of respect
- A decent haircut as a small courage
- A clean shirt as a quiet promise to the day
And then there are the more fervent practitioners — the ones who tap their cheekbones with spoons or chase stimulants to stay “dialed.”
But even in their extremes, there is something tender beneath the spectacle: a longing to be seen, to matter, to feel less invisible in a world that measures worth in angles and algorithms.
If you listen closely, you can hear the deeper longing beneath their rituals — not for perfection, but for steadiness. For a life that feels anchored. For a self that feels worthy of being carried forward.
These are not vain pursuits; they are human ones. Many of these young men are not chasing beauty so much as reassurance — the quiet hope that they might be allowed to take up space in the world without apology.
And before I get too philosophical about the young men on East Beach, I should confess that I inhabit my own version of looksmaxxing.
I don’t stand in the surf practicing jaw angles — at least not yet — but I do line up for Zepbound, that miracle/meteor of a drug sweeping across the country.
I insist it’s about health, about blood pressure, about staying alive long enough to see my grandchildren roll their eyes at me. And mostly it is.
But then I button the jeans I haven’t worn since President George W. Bush’s administration and feel a tiny, undeniable spark of vanity.
It’s hard not to wonder whether I’m not mogging, too, in my way — not out of arrogance, but out of the same human hope to feel a little more at ease in my own skin.
Mogging, one of the movement’s favorite terms, means to outshine someone so thoroughly — in looks or presence — that the other person seems to fade.
It’s a dramatic word for a very human fear: Am I enough? Do I belong? Will anyone notice me?
But the real mogging happens when:
- Someone remembers your name at the co-op
- A stranger helps you lift your kayak
- The barista draws a heart in your cappuccino foam even though you look like you slept in your car
These small gestures — unphotographed, unoptimized — are the ones that make a life feel less lonely.
So to the young men practicing their jawlines on East Beach: You are already on the right path.
Not because your jaw is sharper, but because you are seeking change — and change, when it begins from the inside out, becomes a kind of lantern.
It lights your way toward purpose, toward community, toward the quiet virtues that shape a moral compass.
Lift weights if you want. Moisturize if it brings you joy. Chase beauty if it helps you feel awake in your own skin. Gobble some Zepbound.
But remember: the most enduring form of looksmaxxing is learning how to be a decent human being.
A sharp jaw may turn heads. A steady heart can turn lives.
So here’s to the young men of Santa Barbara — earnest, anxious, hopeful and learning their way through the world.
May you feel the steadiness of your own heart, the quiet strength that doesn’t depend on angles or algorithms.
May your days be shaped not by the sharpness of your jaw but by the softness you offer others.
May your smiles of gladness remain — a lasting presence, a comfort, a small lantern you carry into every room.
May you find beauty in the places that don’t fracture or fade: in the morning light on Cabrillo, in the kindness of strangers, in the simple courage of showing up as yourself.
And may you discover, in this coastal town that holds more tenderness than it lets on, that you were already enough — long before you ever lifted your chin toward the sun.
