For Mary Munson, 41, her first foray into non-surgical cosmetic treatments wasn’t a premeditated decision, but rather a gentle nudge of curiosity. While at a clinic for an eyelash extension appointment, a staff member introduced her to a procedure she termed “baby Botox,” which was, in fact, standard Botox. This chance encounter led Munson to try it, and she hasn’t looked back since.
“It was just a starter to see what it was like, and I realised that I enjoyed it,” Munson shares. “And to be honest, I don’t feel like I see a huge change.” Munson, who was 37 when she began these treatments, attributes her naturally good skin to her Filipino and Scottish heritage. However, beyond regular Botox injections, she has also embraced other aesthetic interventions. These include platelet-rich plasma (PRP) therapy, often known as a “vampire facial” due to its use of a patient’s own blood platelets, and platelet-rich fibrin (PRF), a similar treatment designed to stimulate collagen production.
Munson, a teacher and mother of two, describes herself as “very generic and run-of-the-mill.” Yet, among her close circle of 11 friends, all in their early forties, three regularly undergo these procedures. Her experience reflects a broader societal shift: non-surgical cosmetic treatments, or as they’re sometimes more subtly referred to, “aesthetic interventions,” are moving beyond the exclusive realm of the wealthy and famous to become increasingly commonplace. This trend is actively reshaping perceptions of beauty for everyday women, making the natural markers of ageing, such as jowls and wrinkles, feel like optional rather than inevitable aspects of life.
The Normalisation of Aesthetic Interventions
“I’ve not tried changing the shape of my face or anything drastic. I would prefer not to be too wrinkly,” Munson laughs, adding, “I’m also getting married next year for the first time, so I’m trying to get my skin the best it can be.”
Observing the changing landscape, one might notice a dentist in a formerly working-class Sydney neighbourhood, now an aspirational area, advertising cosmetic injectables in a subtle font alongside more traditional dental services. Nearby, a clinic with drawn curtains, situated next to a pastry shop, boldly proclaims “real change, real confidence.” These scenes are increasingly replicated across shopping precincts and main streets nationwide.
The language used to describe these treatments has also evolved. In the waiting room of an inner-city dermatologist, the presence of terms like “relax” and “refresh” in a medical context initially seemed perplexing. This phenomenon highlights the co-option of the neoliberal concept of self-care to frame non-surgical cosmetic treatments.
Bianca Lorena Saldes, 38, an aesthetic nurse and clinic owner who first met Munson, likens the experience to other self-care practices. “For me, it is like having something nice or like going to the gym,” she states. However, Saldes is mindful of the pressures that might drive women to seek these treatments or feel they are indispensable. “I don’t want to think, ‘I need this to look amazing.’ It’s just like how we go and get a massage.”
A Booming Industry and Evolving Perceptions
The market for cosmetic injectables in Australia is substantial, estimated by Grand View Research at US$2.7 billion and projected to grow at a compound annual growth rate of 19.3% between 2024 and 2030. A survey by the International Society of Aesthetic Plastic Surgery revealed that 20.5 million non-surgical cosmetic procedures were performed globally in 2024, a significant 44% increase from 2020. This surge was partly attributed to the increased self-surveillance of appearance fostered by prolonged periods of video conferencing.
While regulatory bodies like the Australian Health Practitioner Regulation Agency have tightened guidelines, the decentralised nature of the industry makes comprehensive statistics challenging to obtain, and advertising regulations remain strict.
Tania Zanetich, 45, a finance professional, observes a noticeable increase in aesthetic interventions among her peers. “Women around me say, ‘if I had to choose between my Botox or buying groceries, I would [cut back] on groceries’,” she reports, underscoring the perceived value these treatments hold.
Historically, women have always engaged in “beauty work” and navigated societal pressures to maintain a youthful appearance, particularly in a culture that often undervalues older female bodies. While some public figures champion natural ageing, there’s also a palpable fear of “natural ageing,” as evidenced by the backlash actor Rachel Ward received for posting an unfiltered image of her face.
The Cultural Imperative and “Aesthetic Entrepreneurs”
Dr. Renae Fomiatti, a senior research fellow at La Trobe University, has been studying the uptake of aesthetic interventions. She points out their accessibility: “They’re easily available and people can go in their lunch break, there’s minimal downtime.” However, she cautions that this convenience overlooks “how invasive the cultural messaging and imperative is around ageing.”
Fomiatti, a feminist scholar, challenges the notion of a strict binary between “natural” and “unnatural” ways of ageing, stating, “The body is social. There’s always been aesthetic interventions.” She describes many contemporary women as “aesthetic entrepreneurs,” whose bodies reflect the market logic of the neoliberal system.
“So many women I interviewed described feeling sensitive around ageing, in relation to the labour force and working opportunities as they got older,” Fomiatti reveals. “People are using these treatments to mediate their experience of suffering around ageing, but by doing this, they are also becoming aligned with dominant norms of white, youthful beauty, and that makes people feel better.”
Furthermore, the current environment, saturated with data and virtual tools for facial analysis, creates a constant pressure to “optimise, improve, enhance” every aspect of one’s appearance.
Felicity West, who transitioned from a high-end cosmetic clinic to working in a Melbourne suburb, has witnessed the normalisation and increased undetectability of aesthetic treatments, leading to their adoption by a broader demographic. “It’s not a secret among women in their 30s and 40s; they are discussing it with their friends, they are comparing practitioners,” West notes. She also observes a growing male clientele. “It wasn’t that long ago where if you’ve had treatments… not a muscle moved on your face, but now we are leaning towards smaller, undetectable treatments, and there is literally no one I don’t see: young women, mature women, lawyers, social workers, cafe workers.”
Shifting Accessibility and Perceptions of Choice
Dr. Jasmine Fardouly, a senior lecturer in psychology at the University of Sydney, suggests that while these new procedures are intentionally presented as more attainable, this very attainability can paradoxically make women feel worse. The integration of aesthetic interventions into everyday settings like dental practices and shopping malls, rather than exclusively high-end clinics, has diminished their exclusivity. However, this positioning has also framed treatments as ordinary consumer choices, akin to a haircut or manicure.
“I think there is also a pushback against the amount of money and time women place on their appearance,” Fardouly adds. “It can create a class divide in that only women who can afford these procedures can meet these ideals.”
Munson, a relief teacher, acknowledges the financial commitment, stating that a day’s wage can cover a single Botox treatment. “It is a big number for us, but my partner looks after the household,” she says. “I remember as a teenager going to get my eyebrows waxed. As you get older, you hit 20, you start doing some more intensive facials. This is just what you do.”
Tania Zanetich, 45, describes her aesthetic interventions as a means of projecting confidence and competence, particularly in a corporate environment. “Joking the other day with my accountant, I said, surely Botox should be a tax deduction, because at work, I look like I can’t frown,” she laughs. “If someone says something in a meeting, I’m looking poised. I think in a corporate workplace, if you are a mother of two small children, when you present yourself with a certain decorum, that image translates to a level of competency that might extend to my ability to do my job well.”
Women who embrace or resist aesthetic interventions often find themselves on opposing sides of cultural debates. However, the gradual mainstreaming of these procedures points to a longer history of women navigating complex double-binds. What was once an exotic option is now being reframed as a personal choice or a professional statement.
“Women around me say, ‘if I had to choose between my Botox or buying groceries, I would [cut back] on groceries’ because of how it makes them feel, and how [they are] able to tackle the day to day,” Zanetich smiles. “I don’t judge anybody. I think society judges women enough for us to judge each other.”
