From Taboo to Trend: Women Who Challenged Beauty Norms with Armpit Hair

For over a cen­tu­ry, women have been told what their bod­ies should look like—and just as impor­tant­ly, what they shouldn’t.

Among the most per­sis­tent expec­ta­tions has been the removal of body hair. While many women still fol­low this unwrit­ten rule, oth­ers have cho­sen to ignore it alto­geth­er, embrac­ing their nat­ur­al appear­ance with­out apol­o­gy.

That sim­ple act of defi­ance has, at times, become a qui­et but pow­er­ful form of rebellion—especially when embraced by some of the world’s most vis­i­ble pub­lic fig­ures.

In the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry, the idea of women shav­ing their bod­ies was far from com­mon. A mar­ket for female hair removal sim­ply didn’t exist in the Unit­ed States at the time—it had to be cre­at­ed from scratch.

Researcher Chris­tine Hope Hansen notes: “The prac­tice of remov­ing hair from the under­arms and legs was prac­ti­cal­ly unheard of. In fact, hair removal was such a nov­el con­cept when it was first intro­duced that com­pa­nies had to per­suade women of the ben­e­fits, and demon­strate how to prac­tice it.”

The turn­ing point came in 1915, when Gillette released the first razor designed specif­i­cal­ly for women. By cap­i­tal­iz­ing on shift­ing fash­ion trends—sleeveless dress­es and short­er hemlines—razor and depila­to­ry com­pa­nies clev­er­ly framed body hair as a “prob­lem” that need­ed solv­ing.

Adver­tis­ing cam­paigns were sub­tle yet relent­less, care­ful­ly align­ing beau­ty with smooth, hair­less skin. From the mid-1910s through the 1930s, dozens of brands echoed this mes­sage, plant­i­ng the seeds of a stan­dard that still lingers today.

Ear­ly ads pro­mot­ing under­arm hair removal appeared as ear­ly as 1908, but they grew far more fre­quent after 1914. One strik­ing exam­ple was a 1915 Harper’s Bazaar ad for a depila­to­ry pow­der called X Bazin. It fea­tured a woman in a sleeve­less gown lift­ing her arm with con­fi­dence, paired with the cap­tion: “Sum­mer Dress and Mod­ern Danc­ing com­bine to make nec­es­sary the removal of objec­tion­able hair.”

The mes­sage was unmistakable—body hair had no place in the life of a “mod­ern” woman.

To make groom­ing sound less harsh, adver­tis­ers avoid­ed words like shav­ing and legs. Instead, they used more refined lan­guage: “smooth­ing” instead of shav­ing, and “limbs” instead of legs. These weren’t just ads sell­ing beau­ty products—they were lessons teach­ing an entire­ly new stan­dard of fem­i­nin­i­ty.

By the 1920s, under­arm hair was open­ly described in ads as “objec­tion­able,” “unsight­ly,” and “unclean.” Remov­ing it, mean­while, was framed as the mark of mod­esty, refine­ment, and even moral supe­ri­or­i­ty. Hair-free skin wasn’t just about hygiene—it was about being “dain­ty,” “ele­gant,” and “per­fect­ly groomed.”

Over time, this man­u­fac­tured norm became deeply ingrained. Today, more than a cen­tu­ry lat­er, the over­whelm­ing major­i­ty of Amer­i­can women—estimated at 80 to 99 percent—still reg­u­lar­ly remove body hair.

And yet, choos­ing not to shave remains a bold state­ment. It chal­lenges a cen­tu­ry of cul­tur­al con­di­tion­ing and rede­fines beau­ty on one’s own terms. That defi­ance has become par­tic­u­lar­ly vis­i­ble in pop cul­ture when­ev­er celebri­ties embraced it.

One of the most famous exam­ples came in 1999, when actress Julia Roberts appeared at the Not­ting Hill pre­miere with unshaven under­arms. The sight of nat­ur­al body hair—something com­plete­ly ordinary—sparked a media fren­zy. Head­lines weren’t focused on her per­for­mance or her red-car­pet look, but on the sim­ple fact that she hadn’t removed her body hair.

She wasn’t the first, nor the last. From Sophia Loren in the 1960s to Madon­na in the 1980s and count­less stars today, each moment of vis­i­bil­i­ty has chipped away at the taboo. For some, it’s an unapolo­getic embrace of their nat­ur­al selves. For oth­ers, it’s an inten­tion­al act of protest against rigid, man­u­fac­tured beau­ty stan­dards.

What remains clear is this: body hair, once weaponized by adver­tis­ers to sell razors and pow­ders, has become more than a mat­ter of groom­ing. For many women, it’s a statement—whether of rebel­lion, indi­vid­u­al­i­ty, or sim­ply com­fort in their own skin.