 The Struggles of a Gen X Hairdresser in the Content Creator World One thing I can do that genz or even millennial hairdressers cant do?...I can foil a head of highlights faster than you can say Balayage, however don’t ask me to “optimize my engagement strategy.” I’m a Gen X hairdresser, which means I grew up in an era where the only thing we posted was actual mail, and we had to lick it. Now I’m required to film a 15-second video, edit it with AI-generated captions, add trending audio, and somehow look fabulous doing it. And when I say required, I mean to keep up, stay current if you will. In truth, I’m squinting at my phone like my mom trying to program the VCR in 1987. Here’s the thing: Gen Z and Millennials were basically born with ring lights in their cribs. They can lip-sync to six audios, point at floating words, and somehow go viral before their oat milk latte even cools. Me? I just wanted to show you a cute bob I cut on Emily, but Instagram insists it needs to be a Reel, not a post, and I can’t even consider uploading horizontally because that’s basically a war crime now. And what exactly are trending hashtags? Once upon a time, the pound sign was how you knew you’d misdialed. Today? The expectation is to type out 30 variations of #hairgoals and #shorthairdontcare while praying the algorithm gods don’t bury me. Half the time I don’t even know if I’m shadowbanned or just boring. The latest trend? They want me to dance. No, I will not do a TikTok dance in the salon, Julia. My knees are 50 years old and have seen some things. If you want choreography, go to Beyoncé. What I can do is give you layers that grow out like butter—does the algorithm reward that? Not so much. And let’s not forget the tech side. “Just edit it in CapCut!” they say. Sure, let me just spend three hours learning a software program so I can get 127 views—75 of which are probably me, checking if it uploaded right. And the kicker? Some clients now come clutching screenshots of hair from influencers who live in LA, have three stylists on call, and probably wash with unicorn tears. And when their fine, over-processed hair doesn’t magically turn into Gigi Hadid’s, guess where their expectations lie? Not with the algorithm. Alas I soldier on. Because at the end of the day, I love what I do—even if it means hashtagging my way into oblivion. One day, maybe, the social media gods will bless me with viral fame. Until then, I’ll be here with my scissors, my coffee, and my ring light that still hasn’t been assembled because the instructions were in millennial.
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 Scissors, Spirits & Sobriety
I was scrolling thru instagram last night, in between my paint by numbers and my current obsession with Chicago Fire … thinking well this is a far cry from my old Saturday nights. I used to beat it out of the salon, and head straight for the liquor store, or the pub or the next “girls night”. I was scrolling to find a fun sober adventure. I was searching for positive, beauty functions. Something celebrating entrepreneurship, women and hair. Something where I could get outta town for an evening or two. A side quest if you will, something to get me off this beautiful but sometimes isolating little island of mine. Literally, I live in Victoria, on Vancouver island. Growing up in south eastern Ontario, I choose to move out here to get away from the nasty winters. One of the many good things about my trade. You can literally work anywhere. Regardless, searching for a function …every one I saw had a cute little saying. “Post and Pour!”.a seminar on how to be a “social media disruptor” a “creative strategist” cue social media photos of women drinking wine. Or things like “boss babe” and “when your surrounded by women who just get it” social media post of women doing hair education…next slide, cue the women engaged in conversation at a table with? You guessed it, wine. Fack off, and save it… Do other industries promote social drinking as much? Ugg maybe, I just don't notice it or actually I think I'm just jealous that a lot of people in this world can just have one or two glasses of wine. Not me tho…I never understood anyone who could leave a half glass of wine at a table. Like what? Who does that?! If I'm having wine, I'm moving on to vodka after that, then to stronger things…iykyk Being a hairdresser means living in the thick of people, energy, creativity — and often, chaos. The salon can be a place of transformation. We do gossip, therapy, laughter, and often tears. We’re the unofficial therapists, the secret keepers, the ones who pour love and life into others. We sometimes neglect ourselves. And for many of us in this industry, alcohol has long been our go-to escape — the after-hours ritual, the weekend reward, the social glue. So, what happens when a hairdresser decides to stop drinking? It’s hard. Really hard. The Culture: Work Hard, Party Harder We work long hours on our feet, rarely get proper breaks, and are constantly "on." We are exposed to all the emotions of every client who sits in our chair — the breakups, the weddings, the job interviews, the grief, the big decisions. After a day of giving out that much energy, it's no surprise that many of us reach for a glass (or bottle) to unwind. Add to that the fact that our industry is rooted in socialization. Events, product launches, fashion shows, behind-the-chair meetups — alcohol is always there, expected, even celebrated. The phrase “let’s grab a drink after work” is basically hairdresser language for “we survived today.” My Identity Crisis of Quitting When I decided to stop drinking, I didn’t just have to say no to the booze. I had to rewire my habits, face emotional triggers, and most painfully, confront who I was without it. Would I still be fun at industry events if I wasn’t drinking? Would clients think I was boring or "too serious" now? Would my coworkers feel judged if I stopped showing up for wine-fueled hangouts? The pressure to conform is real. Saying “I don’t drink” is often met with raised eyebrows, awkward silences, or even defensive jokes. You start feeling like the odd one out — like you’ve broken an unspoken salon code. Now instead of saying I don't drink, I say, alcohol doesn't agree with me. People actually accept that it makes me “physically sick” more than “I can't drink because it turns me into a raging lunatic…who makes terrible decisions and blows up my life” I mean when I put it that way I guess I understand. Alcohol Is Everywhere — And It’s Normal We live in a culture where alcohol isn’t just accepted; it’s glorified. I proved that to myself last night. Memes about needing wine after a tough day flood our social feeds. “Mom juice.” “Rosé all day.” “But first, cocktails.” And I have tried being sober and hanging out with old drinking buddies…the feeling that they are waiting for you to leave so they can get on with it is palpable. The truth is, not drinking can make people uncomfortable — maybe because it holds up a mirror to their own habits. Or maybe it makes them feel judged, my sobriety isn’t a judgment on anyone else. It’s a boundary for me. Still, that doesn’t make it easy. My Unexpected Grief Giving up drinking isn’t just about letting go of a substance. It’s about mourning a version of myself. I had to grieve the nights out, the laughter, the buzz, the illusion of connection. I mean ask anyone who used to drink with me. I was a fucking good time. Now I have to sit with my anxiety instead of drowning it. I had to learn to rest without relying on alcohol to “turn my brain off.” And that’s hard. It’s lonely. And some days, it feels like I’m swimming upstream in a world that’s floating downstream on a river of cocktails. But Then, Something Shifted I started to find clarity. Mornings feel easier. My skin looks better. I feel more me, I realized I can be present with clients, truly listen, and go home without needing to numb out. I had to discover new ways to decompress — walks, journaling, mocktails, therapy, or just sitting with the silence. Worst or best thing I noticed? which relationships were real, and which were built on shared hangovers. And slowly, I am building a version of myself that doesn’t need alcohol to be funny, charming, or worthy of connection. Slowly but its happening. To Anyone Trying to Quit If you’re a hairdresser (or anyone, really) trying to navigate sobriety in a world that romanticizes drinking — I see you. It’s brave. It’s raw. And yes, it’s hard. But the peace that comes with knowing you don’t need a drink to cope, to connect, or to create? That peace is worth fighting for. And you’re not alone in this. #SoberStylist #HairdresserLife #AlcoholFreeJourney #SalonSobriety #MentalHealthInTheIndustry |
AuthorLouisa Vukovic MA, RSE stylist, writer and salon expert with over 30yrs in the beauty bussiness Archives
November 2025
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