SPF OBSESSION

For Gen Z, sunscreen is no longer that greasy afterthought your mom shoved in your beach bag; it’s the main character of skincare, the queen bee of the vanity shelf, the Beyoncé of bathroom products. If millennials associated SPF with awkward tan lines and forced summer camp applications, Gen Z has turned it into a badge of honor, a lifestyle, and frankly, a cult. Sunscreen is no longer about avoiding looking “dark” (a colonial hangover most of us are happy to cancel) but about protecting collagen like it’s the last iced latte on a hot day. The obsession started with TikTok, where every other skincare influencer had a “SPF reapplication hack” video, featuring sprays, sticks, and gels that promised to shield your pores while fitting perfectly in your tiny baguette bag. Suddenly, reapplying sunscreen every two hours wasn’t a chore, it was a personality trait, right up there with posting “hot girl walks” and oat milk hauls. Sunscreen became aesthetic, think pastel tubes, glossy packaging, and names like “Glow Screen” and “Super Shield”, because apparently no one wants to smear something called “UV Blocker 3000” on their face. Brands caught on fast, flooding the market with sunscreens that looked like serums, smelled like mango smoothies, and disappeared faster than your situationship. But Gen Z didn’t stop there; SPF became meme material. Forget zodiac signs– people started identifying themselves by their sunscreen brand: “I’m a La Roche-Posay with rising Supergoop, but my moon is Biore Aqua Rich.”

It’s funny, but also very Gen Z to romanticize SPF like it’s a star sign and trauma-bond over UVA/UVB exposure. At the root of this obsession is something deeper: the collective fear of aging. No one under 25 should be freaking out about fine lines, but thanks to dermatologists on Instagram repeating “Sunscreen is the best anti-aging cream,” SPF has become a preventative panic button. Wrinkle anxiety plus climate change-level sun exposure? Boom!!! Sunscreen is now the skincare equivalent of insurance, except cuter and with better packaging. And of course, Gen Z had to make it extra. We don’t just apply sunscreen; we layer, we reapply, we carry SPF sticks to brunch, and we side-eye friends who say, “Oh, I don’t really use sunscreen unless I’m going to Goa.” Excuse me? UVA rays do not check your boarding pass, babe.

Sunscreen shaming is real, and Gen Z is militant about it. it is as if, we might forget our keys, our deadlines, and our water intake, but not our morning SPF. And in true Gen Z fashion, we’ve also politicized it. SPF is not just skincare, it’s self-care, anti-colorism, and environmental consciousness, all wrapped into one chic tube. Mineral vs chemical SPF? That’s not just a dermatological choice, it’s a personality quiz. Reef-safe formulas? Obviously, because what’s the point of saving your skin if the coral reefs are dying? And if your sunscreen leaves a white cast, you can bet Gen Z will call it out for excluding melanated skin, dragging it harder than a bad contour tutorial. Ultimately, sunscreen’s glow-up from forgotten step to cultural phenomenon says less about the product and more about us. Gen Z is terrified of being unprotected, whether from UV rays, climate change, or bad vibes.so sunscreen has become the ultimate metaphor: a shield, a filter, a soft-focus layer between us and the world.

SPF is skincare, but it’s also identity, and honestly, a little bit of therapy in a tube. It truly is the main character, and like any true star, it demands attention, reapplication, and the occasional TikTok dance to stay relevant.