The aircon is cranked up to the max and it’s about -5°C in the office. So why are we sweating like we’ve just run a 5K? Stylist investigates...

Words: Moya Lothian-McLean

Rifle through my wardrobe and you’ll find only three long-sleeved tops, all in comforting, uniform black. This isn’t thanks to a colour phobia; my drawers boast an entire rainbow’s worth of vests. Rather, it’s my treacherous pits that are to blame. Let my underarms loose on any clothing affected by moisture and within minutes I’ll be the proud owner of two large, circular sweat stains. Structured blue shirt? Out of the question. Fitted red jersey dress? Fine if I keep my arms clamped to my side all day. Black’s the only shade that doesn’t betray me.

I’m not alone either. Anxiety-triggered dampness, sopping palms and forehead beading are just a few forms that sweaty insecurities take in my immediate circle of friends. All of us report feeling seriously hindered by the unpredictability of perspiration; living in fear of when sweat will strike stops us wearing certain outfits, eschewing high-risk activities (avoiding the Tube when you’ve got an important presentation first thing really is self-care) and even dents our confidence in the bedroom. If that seems excessive, we agree. But letting our sweat trickle free is a no-go.

In fact, sweat is one of the last major grooming taboos, the new pubic pelt if you will. There’s an unabashed stigma attached to what your pesky little sudoriferous glands produce and one that shows no sign of undergoing positive rebranding, à la body hair, anytime soon. Sure, a healthy ‘sheen’ is perfectly acceptable, even desirable: make-up artists at Anya Hindmarch and David Koma’s s/s 2017 shows deliberately sent out models sporting that ‘I just jogged here’ radiance. Exercise- induced sweat is a badge of honour; you positively want to finish your HIIT class awash in the proof of effort expended. But bog- standard sweat – the kind that drips down your face during a cramped commute, pools under your armpits when your boss fires a question at you, or leaves your post-cycle crotch in a disgustingly moist state – that sweat is neither celebrated nor acknowledged. Despite being as natural as the thick fuzz protecting our privates or rough skin on stiletto ravaged feet, sweat remains our soggy, secret shame.

So horrified are we at the idea of sweating that some are even resorting to Botox to stop perspiring altogether. It might be a legitimate remedy for the 3% of the world afflicted by hyperhidrosis (a condition that ups your sweat production to five times that of the average person) but for everyone else, it’s an extreme, normalised by outdated attitudes to a bodily function. Sweat carries embarrassing subliminal messages: “I’m dirty!” screams a wet back on the Tube. “I’m overweight!” yells a rivulet dribbling down someone’s neck. “I smell bad!” declare your deskmate’s damp armpits. Unsurprisingly, deodorants are big beauty business. Deodorant isn’t an optional item; where you might forgo lipstick on any given day, skipping the morning spritz of Sure is unthinkable for most. Because sweat isn’t sexy, is it? It’s not feminine to sweat. As the old adage goes: men sweat and women glow. Sweating males embody an enticing primal masculinity. Sweating women though? Well, a study in the science journal PLOS ONE found men perceived them as “less confident, competent and trustworthy”. And god forbid that the perspiration you emit might actually... smell. BO is the brush no-one wants to be tarred with.

Women don’t sweat, they glow, but what if this isn’t always the case? Stylist investigates