Why Every Hair Salon Instagram Looks the Same (And Why Yes, I Checked)
It started with a bang trim. Fifteen minutes of small talk and foils, and I was scrolling through my local hair salon's Instagram. And then the algorithm happened. Suddenly, I was neck-deep in balayage reels, head massages in slo-mo, and stylists with ring lights turned up to 11. It was soothing, sure. Like a digital spa day. Until I realised—with a growing itch—that they all looked exactly the same.
We're not just in a post-aesthetic era. We're in the clone wars of visual branding. Hair salons, nail bars, boutique fitness studios—they've all gone full beige-filtered, eucalyptus-on-the-counter, text-in-the-bottom-left-corner content. It's impossible to tell Auckland from Adelaide. Wellington from Wisconsin. What happened to weird? What happened to local flavour? And why does every salon now look like it's sponsored by oat milk?
Somewhere along the way, we traded originality for 'engagement'. Blame template culture. Blame the Canva industrial complex. But it runs deeper. There’s comfort in sameness, especially when bookings rely on aesthetics over actual scissors-to-hair skills. But good branding creates memory, and memory likes surprises. I remember the Auckland salon that posted a client's hair disaster recovery—complete with rubber ducks in the sink and '80s soul playing. That stood out. That got me to look twice (and book).
So here’s a call to arms, or at least to scissors. If you run a creative business, get weird. Post the lunchtime staff dance-off. That one customer who brought their schnauzer. The brutal honesty of a haircut gone wrong, then very right. Because when everything looks polished, a little mess is magnetic.
We're not just in a post-aesthetic era. We're in the clone wars of visual branding. Hair salons, nail bars, boutique fitness studios—they've all gone full beige-filtered, eucalyptus-on-the-counter, text-in-the-bottom-left-corner content. It's impossible to tell Auckland from Adelaide. Wellington from Wisconsin. What happened to weird? What happened to local flavour? And why does every salon now look like it's sponsored by oat milk?
Somewhere along the way, we traded originality for 'engagement'. Blame template culture. Blame the Canva industrial complex. But it runs deeper. There’s comfort in sameness, especially when bookings rely on aesthetics over actual scissors-to-hair skills. But good branding creates memory, and memory likes surprises. I remember the Auckland salon that posted a client's hair disaster recovery—complete with rubber ducks in the sink and '80s soul playing. That stood out. That got me to look twice (and book).
So here’s a call to arms, or at least to scissors. If you run a creative business, get weird. Post the lunchtime staff dance-off. That one customer who brought their schnauzer. The brutal honesty of a haircut gone wrong, then very right. Because when everything looks polished, a little mess is magnetic.