I didn’t want great hair. I just wanted to stop hiding.
I’m Matt. I started losing my hair at 17, spent eight years hiding it, made expensive mistakes fixing it — and the last ten years making sure other men don’t have to.
“Damn, my dad has more hair than you.”
I was 17. A classmate hadn’t seen me all summer, and he said it in front of everyone. Everybody laughed. I laughed too.
From that day on, whenever eyes were on me — a girl I liked, a new classmate, a presentation — I was sure they were thinking the same thing. I was never really present. I was busy managing what people could see.
Prom, 19. Ninety minutes of styling went into this hair.
The audience saw a guy having fun.
Music was everything to me back then. I wanted to be a musician.
What you can’t see in this photo: I spent an hour and a half styling my hair that night to hide my forehead and thinning corners. On stage, I wasn’t enjoying the moment. I was thinking:
“Please — nobody say anything about my hair tonight.”
That’s what hair loss takes from you. Not just hair. Moments with the people you love that you don’t get back.
By 25, I looked older than my friends’ fathers.
So I overcompensated, in every way I could:
- I trained harder than any of my friends.
- I tried to be the funniest, most outgoing guy in the room.
- I checked my hair in every restaurant bathroom — and pretended to wash my hands when someone walked in.
- I dreaded wind, rain and swimming pools.
- I was the last guy who wanted to be in a photo.
If you’re reading this, you probably know exactly what I mean.
Early 20s: the corners going.
At my worst, before my first transplant.
I trusted a friend instead of doing my homework.
A Turkish friend from my university came back from the holidays with new hair. I thought a transplant cost $15–30k. He’d paid $2,000.
I was 25, emotional, and done waiting. I booked the same clinic and skipped the research.
It changed my life. It also left me with double and triple grafts in my hairline that later had to be repaired — and, looking back, more grafts used than I really needed. Three procedures and one repair later, I know exactly where men go wrong. Because I went wrong there first.
Wind. Water. Nothing to hide.
The first three months were the hardest part — shedding, waiting, hiding under a cap. Then it started growing, and within a year my life looked different.
I stopped checking mirrors. Getting ready takes two minutes. I swim, I let the wind mess up my hair, and I fix it in front of people without a second thought — because I’m not hiding anything anymore. And I started smiling in photos.
Windy day. Don’t care.
Wet hair at the beach. Still don’t care.
Something else changed, too. I stopped overcompensating. I talked less, listened more — and people opened up to me more easily than ever. Out of curiosity, I later ran an experiment with two identical dating profiles. The only difference was my hair:
My hair isn’t perfect. In direct sunlight, you can see through it. But at 34, it’s better than it was at 18 — and I never wanted perfect. I wanted to look like a normal guy my age again.
Speaking to surgeons at FUE Europe.
Nothing I played on stage felt like this.
Nothing compares to the moment a man tells me he finally stopped hiding. So I made it my work — and became the advisor I wish I’d had at 25.
Speaker at FUE Europe Madrid 2025 & Warsaw 2026.
To help men get truly the best hair — for wherever they want to go in life.
What I want for every man I work with — and hopefully even more.
I advise every man the way I’d advise my brother, my father or my best friend. Sometimes that means saying “not yet,” “not this clinic,” or “you don’t need surgery.” I’m committed to your result — not to a sale.
— Matt
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