Why Does Gen Z Look SO Old?

Gen Z themselves call it ‘aging like milk’

*Note, see the note from me at the bottom for a little update.

That’s me (on the left) and Shawna Faith on Tiktok. I’m 42, she’s 22. Yes, I look older (and she’s stunning), but I don’t think I look twice her age. It’s also worth noting she’s had filler and Botox, and I haven’t.

There’s a popular search trend amongst Gen Z’s, about how they’re ‘aging like milk’ compared to their older millennial counterparts. I’m not sure what we millennials are supposed to be aging like in this scenario. Cheese?

I’m a millennial, as I was born in 1983 — making me an ‘elder’. I still look reasonably young though, I think. Well, when I’m well-hydrated and have slept ok. Gone are the days of pulling all-nighters, dancing til dawn, and waking up looking fresh-eyed and bushy-tailed. Unless that bushy-tailed is a raccoon.

But I know I’m on the cusp. My crow's feet really cockadoodle-doo’d this year, the bastards. My previously fine lines are coming in a little grittier these days, and I’m sandpapering *ahem, exfoliating a little more these days.

But when I compare my millennial brethren to our Gen Z counterparts — I see where Gen Z is coming from.

For reference, millennials were born roughly (depending on who you ask) between 1981 and 1996, making us between 29 and 44 years old as of 2025. Gen Zers were born between 1997–2012, so they’re a max of 28 years old.

But we look much closer in age than we probably should.

Maybe the millennial magic was drinking from hoses. And their bacteria and legionella were a literal fountain of youth for us older generations. Or perhaps the chickenpox parties our parents made us go to helped weed out the weak, Darwin-style.

Experts, however, think it’s none of the above, but a combination of more science-y factors.

One thing the experts think is causing this aging delta is vaping. There’s a new term about the skin-based effects of vaping, called ‘vape face’. With the combination of heat, chemicals, and the blood-flow-restricting effect of nicotine, leading to skin inflammation, wrinkles, and skin dehydration.

However considering how many of us in the older generations smoked actual cigarettes instead of sucking on a USB, I personally doubt this explains the Gen Z-millennial aging quandary. Most of us were probably around enough second-hand smoke, that even if we didn’t smoke — it gave us the skin effects of it.

The asbestos everywhere probably didn’t help either. But again, garden hose water.

This is Jordan, he’s Gen Z and 26 years old. He’s handsome, but also looks my age. One time, he met The Rock, and Dwayne Johnson thought they were the same age. (Image from Jordan The Stallion on TikTok)

Another element that’s aging Gen Z like bananas, is stress. Stress and anxiety can cause inflammation and damage to DNA in cells, and Gen Z has anxiety unlike the world has seen before. I think it’s a mix of a clusterfuck of global issues like climate change and having a tangerine Palpatine in the White House, and all that screen time.

Albeit ever generation had their stressful issues. For millennials, it was Y2K, 9/11 and also global warming since Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth came out in 2006.

Beauty is Skin Deep or Whatever

I have my own theories on why the younger generation is aging like 3-day-old blackberries. And a lot of it has to do with the skin, since the skin is highly visible and one of the telltale signs of being on the primordial end of the age spectrum.

Firstly, makeup. Despite having the best skin of their entire lives, many Gen Z (especially females) are covering it up with heavy makeup. Heavier than we millennials wore, since we were limited to mainly drugstore brands vs their Sephora smorgasbord of quasi-professional makeup options.

This thicker, more decorative makeup gives them a ‘camera-ready’ look, so it shows up nicely on social media. But the cakey look makes you look older in real life.

Another theory is that the 97-step skincare routines that young people have now are aging them like avocados. We did very little back in the day. Too many cooks spoil the broth, and too much product spoils the skin.

Again, back in the day, we didn’t have many options. We definitely didn’t have skincare products from far-flung places like Korea. We had Vaseline and Noxzema. Or something cucumber-melon scented from Bath & Body Works if you were ‘fanceh’.

Now they have toners, serums, creams, exfoliaters, retinoids, niacinamide, hyaluronic acid, AHAs, BHAs, and eye of newt.

If your skin is already aged, sigh — like my elder millennial ass — then retinoids can help smooth your skin. But for the young peeps in their 20s using them, they may overuse to the point of inflaming the skin. I n your 20s, your skin is as perfect as it will ever be. One day, you’ll miss that baby’s-bottom skin.

There are endless products youngin’s can now slather on their skin, ranging from ‘meh’ to ‘wtf’. Not kidding, now, in some beauty products, there is yeast, caffeine, bee venom, and snail slime

I use soap and a washcloth. I’ll pass on the snail.

On top of all of the products in their 137-step skincare routines, the young generation is also doing fillers and Botox. While filler and botox can shave a few years off once your skin looks more like a topographical map of Utah — when you’re young, it can prematurely age you.

My Parting, Sagened Wisdom

Kiddos, as your elder, may I impart this advice: be kind to your skin. Unless you plan to make a skinsuit out of someone else's, you’re going to be in your skin a long time. That’s a lesson that I learned from the movie Death Becomes Her, be nice to your skin or you and your bestie will be spray-paainting each other’s asses for eternity.

Make friends with the skin you’re in.

I should know, I came from the era of tanning beds, where we fried under infrared McDonald’s food-warmer type lights. We’d use a Playboy bunny sticker to show our work. Shortly after that, we were told we’d all turn into The Hulk from all the radiation, or get cancer.

So I switched to sunless tanner.

I even used sunless tanner while I lived in the Caribbean in Mexico for over a decade, something my friends taunted me about relentlessly. I got the last laugh though, as the ones who fried in the sun like bacon have the snake-like skin to prove it.

A couple of especially bitchy ladies I knew, who mocked my sunless tanning, now look like old leather handbags. The combination of too much sun and being bitchy ages you, apparently.

So, in the words of the illustrious Baz Luhrmann — wear sunscreen.

I stockpiled sunscreen like it was the last roll of toilet paper in the apocalypse, or pandemic. And I used it, religiously.

As Baz says, wear sunscreen, and try to enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Even though none of us ever do. Youth truly is wasted on the young, and I should’ve appreciated my sweater kittens more, back when they still pointed up on their own.

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Hey peeps, I have an incredibly exciting milestone to share! I’m almost at a gross annualized revenue of $10K!

At first, I thought I wouldn’t share that since in my head it’s bragadocious. But then I remembered that to non-full-time writers, $10K annually for a fuckton of work isn’t a ton of money 😆. But to me, ooph—it is. Especially since writing is my full-time career and income.

It really means the world to me, more than I can ever say, to have so many of you supporting me in achieving my dreams of being a humor writer 💜.

But I’ve also been at 9,999 for four days and it’s driving me up the damned wall haha. So if anyone shares my love of round numbers, someone please add $1 to my total before my borderline OCD makes my fuzzy little head explode 😆😆.

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$1 per month (would picking the lowest option make you cheap? Nope, I’d love you)
$2 per month (equal love here)
$3 per month (ditto)
$4 per month (you rebel)
$5 per month (full price because I’d be dumb not to include it)

Don’t have any money? Don’t worry, me neither, and I still love you.