The Gentle Grooming Shift: A Mom & Son's Moment

Harinath

Strategy & Growth – Reliance Retail; EI Outlook Editor

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A Simple Face Pack and a Quiet Revolution

As a millennial South Indian who moved to Mumbai 10 years ago, skincare wasn’t exactly part of “what men do.” But times change.

My parents, firmly rooted in our hometown, don’t visit often. Most times, I travel to see them. But recently, they came to stay with me in the city after three long years.

One evening, I was in the bathroom, casually applying a face pack. It had become a quiet part of my self-care routine—nothing elaborate, just a way to give my face a break from city stress. My mom walked by and saw me, brush in hand, face half-covered in earthy brown clay.

She didn’t say a word. No raised eyebrows. No classic “What’s happening to my son?” line.

But in that silent moment, I knew she’d registered a shift.

Two days later, we packed our bags for a four-day road trip through Gujarat. A classic, open-road family adventure—food, dhabas, temples, and lots of sun. By the second day, the weather had taken a toll on all of us. Our skin was tanned, tired, itchy, and visibly protesting.

On the morning of our hotel checkout, I was half-zipped into my backpack when she pulled out a familiar little yellow tube—Vicco Turmeric—and placed it gently on the table. The kind of product that, in my childhood, was advertised with classical music and promises of natural healing.

My mother, who I had only ever seen using plain cream her entire life, slid it toward me and asked softly:

“Do you want to apply some?”

I froze.

In my 40 years of life, this was the first time she had offered me anything skincare-related. A first.

I smiled and declined—more out of surprise than reluctance. I just wasn’t ready for this level of bonding.

But inside, something softened.

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If this had happened 10 or 15 years ago, the reaction might have been different. She might’ve worried. Asked questions. Maybe even discouraged me.

But now? She didn’t flinch. She understood that things have changed. That her son wearing a face pack wasn’t a threat to masculinity—it was a sign of self-care.

In that small gesture, I felt something powerful: acceptance.

And that made me wonder—what is this shift telling us?

In many South Indian households (mine included), topics like grooming, skincare, and beauty have often been considered feminine spaces. For men, these weren’t dinner table conversations—they were whispered indulgences or simply ignored altogether.

But maybe that’s changing.

Maybe we’re reaching a point where men can talk about skincare and grooming without shame. Maybe our parents are no longer gatekeepers of old gender norms—but quiet supporters, ready to evolve with us.

It’s not about face packs.

It’s about letting go of old rules.

And sometimes, change doesn’t come with a fight. It arrives gently—with a turmeric tube, a smile, and an unspoken nod that says,

"It’s okay. I see you."

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What do you think?

Are we finally ready to normalize self-care for men, especially in traditional households?Have you had moments with your parents where quiet gestures said more than loud conversations?

I’d love to hear your story in comments

Let’s keep this dialogue going—one face pack at a time.