Now We're Supposed to Have a Forever-35 Vagina?

21.09.2026, 17:36 allure.com

I have an old friend I’d like you to meet. She’s plenty post-menopausal, in other words, far from our culture’s youthful ideal, but she’s still delightfully employed. Unless you knew her when she was in her prime (as many did, she’d be happy to report), a casual observer wouldn’t notice a difference in her appearance, except for her now faded fleece, a bit more daintily tailored but still sporty. If she were to spruce herself up with a shot of color, say, in a rich, mahogany brown, she’d look at least as fashionable as she did 40 years ago.

At least as fashionable, but also probably out of place between a pair of 75-year-old legs—you know, like the hands that show the age against the youthful face.

My perfectly adequate friend, like all of us, has landed, somewhat bewildered, in the age of vaginal improvement, evidenced by a ferocious wave of products, procedures, and supplements drowning us in (mostly) unnecessary ways to enhance the appearance, performance, and even the microbiome of our vaginas. Moisturizers, cleansers, bath soaks, lubricants for our vulvas. A vaginal “melt,” an at-home red-light therapy device, an insertable mop for cleaning up more efficiently after sex. A doctor-prescribed cocktail of hormones designed to rejuvenate the vagina and generate a friskier owner.

Not unlike the arsenal of menopause marketing, which includes in its targets women pre- and post-, this exuberance about perfecting our vaginas is aimed at every woman who’s entered the life stage that includes menarche. From a press release I received recently: “…preventative vaginal care…the reality [is] that it’s never too early to start.” Preventing what? Aging, of course. But this is not only about “anti-aging” for the vagina. It’s about vagmaxxing. About the vagina that never dies. The vagina that, to borrow from the Joylux brand affiliated with the actress Halle Berry, reaches peak “juicy like a peach” ripeness and remains in that deliciously inviting state forever. We must not only maximize our “healthspans” and “hotspans”—now, also our “sexspans.”

The notion of vaginal rejuvenation isn’t new. The first surgeries—suturing vaginal lacerations post-delivery—were reported in 1050 AD. This modern version likely seems an offshoot of the looksmaxxing movement born in the misogynistic manosphere, along with support from the ultra-feminizing far right girls-should-be-girls culture. Among the currently available procedures are labiaplasty, vulvar liposculpturing, re-virgination with hymenoplasty, G-spot amplification, and something called a “labia puff” involving injections of either hyaluronic acid filler or your own fat.

Many of these procedures are referred to as vaginal rejuvenation or vaginal restoration. According to a review published almost a decade ago in the International Journal of Women’s Health, these multiple terms reflect the problematic commercial and marketing interests potentially associated with this surgery. I’d have to agree, especially after reading this particular article, written by six OBGYNs based in Italy (this is not only an American phenomenon) who point out that the increasing popularity of genital cosmetic surgery is the result of the desire for the pre-pubic “Barbie doll look.” As you might guess, that requires an invisible labia minora and a tight vaginal opening (if you can find it). Naturally—or, rather, unnaturally—the look includes total pubic hair removal. “This new female vulvar beauty ideal is like a ‘clean slit,’ such that after cosmetic surgery female genitalia appears small, smoothed-tight, and symmetrical, with little color and details, and nothing protruding below the labia majora,” according to a proposed concept of genital beautification described in the same article. “The perfect vulvar ideal seems to be what just ends in a perfect point of nothingness.”

“A clean slit.” “A perfect point of nothingness.” If those descriptions don’t raise the hair on the back of your neck (where, I hope, you still have some hair), I don’t know what would.

The American Society of Plastic Surgeons reported a 30 percent increase in the rate of vaginal rejuvenation procedures between 2005 and 2006 as they became more widely accepted, according to the International Journal of Women’s Dermatology; a 2024 review published in Annals of Plastic Surgery reports that the rate of female genital plastic surgery has increased by nearly 220 percent globally over the past five years. It’s true, as the 1,000-year-old surgeries suggest, there are good reasons for certain vaginal procedures. Various kinds of physiological anomalies can cause discomfort in the female genital area (uncomfortably large labia minora, pelvic organ prolapse post-childbirth, and the more ubiquitous dryness and fragile tissues after menopause to name a few)—any of which might require intervention. The problem is that the ferocious wave mentioned above includes not only surgeries and procedures most of us can’t afford, but all kinds of other flotsam and jetsam available at your local Target (or online), like supplements and red light dildos and “tightening serums” that have no proven benefit. The overriding message: Without this support you cannot compete in the vagmaxx Olympics. Loser!

And the money-making opportunities that message could fuel, well—half of us are eligible to compete in such an event. A recent Vogue article headlined The New Luxury Flex? Your Vagina reported that a company called Evvy, focused on vaginal microbiome testing and care, has raised over $20 million since its launch five years ago. (Its test costs $159, $129 if you are a member.) Last year, a Dutch startup raised 250,000 euros for a device that will measure vaginal pH and temperature. That story also highlighted one of the most shocking moments in the brief history of “vagmaxxing,” when billionaire longevity poster boy Bryan Johnson shared with the world on social media that his girlfriend's recent microbiome test had placed her in the “top 1% of all vaginas.”

I’m not saying our fancy article—one of my favorite 19th century pet names for the vagina—doesn’t require extra fact-checking and content evaluation as we age. Because, yes, you want this to be a high-performing body part for as long as possible. My 75-year-old fancy article requires a twice-weekly applied prescription estrogen cream and an occasional liberal shot of lube. But the difference between a light edit and a total rewrite is vast and expensive—one gynecologist treating the wives of Silicon Valley entrepreneurs reportedly charges up to $30,000 for an appointment—not to mention unnecessary. Vagmaxxing seems the logical offshoot of a trend that prizes unreasonable, unrealistic body modification to the point of impossible AI perfection and transhumanism—scary enough! But the notion that it is also the menopause marketers’ wet dream makes me want to hide my little love glove till after the maxxing trend reaches its climaxx.

I can wait.

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