The rise of the spornosexual

Andy Penniceard, ex-builder, now owner of the Privet ‘body topiary’ salon in Notting Hill, says: ‘The thing about men today is that they’re discovering all the pleasures that women have been keeping to themselves! I mean, before I opened Privet, I’d never had a pedicure. Then I had one and it was incredible. I really think we’ve been missing out.’

Andy, chisel-jawed and toned in a fitted Ralph Lauren polo shirt, is discussing the meaningful socioeconomic trends that lie behind the ‘sports/porno’-inspired spornosexualism. This, in case you’ve missed it, is the updated version of metrosexualism, identified as such by writer Mark Simpson, who coined the term ‘metrosexual’ in 1994. The gist is, metrosexuals were men opening up to their own sensuality, and discovering how to express themselves with clothes and beautification; spornosexuals, on the other manicured hand, now do all that as a matter of course, and have also developed a rather tarty fixation with their own bodies.

Think Cristiano Ronaldo, Dan Osborne and his spray-tanned TOWIE wingmen, or Daniel Craig as Bond — the quintessential Brit hero once played by the walking shagpile carpet that was Sean Connery. Taking their cues from the hyper-buff looks of sportsmen and porn stars, they pump muscle, add tattoos and piercings, and display their bodies to best advantage by having regular all-over depilations. And it’s this hair removal — boyzilians, brozilians, manzilians, he-waxes, crackdowns and, yes, really, pejazzles — that has come to define the movement, much as moisturiser defined metrosexuality.

There are statistics and everything. Market research authority Mintel recently released a report showing that 13 per cent of 16- to 24-year-olds have depilated their chest in the past 12 months; 60 per cent ‘routinely groom’ their bodies; and a whopping 29 per cent have ‘removed hair from their pubic region’. In London, The Refinery, one of the capital’s oldest male grooming emporia, reports a 20 per cent rise in intimate waxing over the past 36 months. And now, also entering the mainstream, we have Privet, specialising in waxing and laser hair removal, but artfully designed with reassuring workbenches, masculine furniture and amusing names for treatments such as the Ronaldo (legs), the Cheeky Chap (bottom) and the Full Monty (use your imagination).

For Penniceard it’s part of the ongoing trend for men taking more care of their health and appearance. The majority of men coming for hair removal might be under 35, he says, standing in the gender-neutral reclaimed-wood reception area of Privet, but you’d be surprised how many older chaps come in to be tidied up downstairs. ‘Some of them just like the clean feel of a hairless body, some like the look, and a lot of them might be doing it because their partner prefers it. Some of the older men have divorced and are starting to go out on the town again.’

Has he been done? ‘Yes. It bloody hurts, but it feels great afterwards,’ he says. ‘You should try it.’ ‘Steady on,’ I say.

Is the spornosexual really ‘a thing’, though? Well, there’s no doubt that there’s been significant growth in the male beauty market over the past three years or so, and that there’s a new body aesthetic: compare David Beckham’s 2008 Armani underwear ads with Ronaldo’s for his CR7 line last year, and Becks looks almost flabby and fuzzy in comparison with the smooth, muscle-popping Portuguese football player (in his more recent ads for H&M, Beckham’s look is more sporno). I’ve seen the look cropping up more and more in selfies posted on Facebook by mates who go to the gym. Starting with gay friends, it has now spread to straight ones; last week one of the latter, a no-nonsense bloke in his late thirties, apologised in a status update because his girlfriend had posted a picture in which he was ‘really bloated’.

It’s also worth noting that in the hipster heartlands of East London there’s a noticeable increase in the number of men rocking cleaner, almost preppy looks in contrast with the big-bearded, retrosexual, artisan-ale-quaffing trendies — Craft Punks, you could call them. Historically, this makes sense: in recessions, men tend to revert to traditional and overtly masculine looks, hence skinheads in the early 1970s, and New Lads in the early 1990s. Following that logic, the beards and the muscling up would belong to the post-2008 recession, while the preening and hair removal signify the economic recovery.

Other commentators offer different takes. Deborah Gayle, general manager of The Refinery, notes that the upper-body depilation craze set in when footballers began celebrating goals by yanking their shirts over their heads, and suspects that women who were getting Hollywood waxes then encouraged their men to follow suit. The film critic Charles Gant cites Hollywood’s influence, pointing out that for the new Seth Rogen school of comedy, male obesity and body hair are routine gag material. He mentions, too, a widely held belief that a few years ago risk-averse Hollywood studios used market research to discover that hairless male torsos were more popular with audiences, and then began stipulating that male stars waxed accordingly.

Faced with such inconclusiveness, I decide to essay a little spornosexualism myself. First, instead of having my usual haircut, I have a full luxury treatment (shave, facial, beard trim, manicure) at Murdock in Covent Garden, where the barbers dress with reassuring Peaky Blinders style, while explaining the benefits of the various lotions and creams. It is very pleasant, and enlightening: ‘Men aspire to look like models — Ricki Hall, for example — rather than rock stars now,’ explains Nicky, my barber. ‘But don’t underestimate the influence of TOWIE. It’s massive. It’s made men think in terms of “outfits” rather than “clothes”.’ It takes time, of course — you wouldn’t want it to be quicker, but the two-hour man pamper (manper?) makes me realise that to do this properly you’d have to sacrifice certain things. Perhaps that’s why you don’t see many spornos at football matches.

After Murdock, I go to Privet. Not ready for the manzilian, I try the most popular wax treatment — the Spine Tingler (back) and Coathanger (shoulders), courtesy of therapist Erinah. It’s my first wax, and the first thing I notice is how chatty and friendly Erinah is. The second thing is that she chats to deliberately distract me from the searing pain, which reminds me of a Game of Thrones torture scene. It isn’t only pleasure that women have been keeping to themselves.

Erinah tells me about her clients. Some of them scream (‘I tell them, “Be quiet, people will wonder what we’re up to in here!” ’), but you can’t predict it. ‘I thought you’d be a screamer,’ she says, ‘but you’re brave.’