Some trends hide in plain sight, and it takes a sharp eye to spot them. In a brilliantly observed and very funny piece for The Cut, published on 5 October as part of New York Magazine’s men’s style issue, Allison P. Davis turns her attention to glutemaxxing: the growing male obsession with building bigger, stronger glutes. It is the kind of story we admire, and would never have thought to look for.
A competition with a plaster-cast prize
In November, a group of around 30 men will crown the winner of the Great Cake Competition. Participants have been measured, photographed and training for months, tracking their progress on an app with 3D renderings and charts. They even have custom-made thongs. The prize is a plaster cast of the winner’s backside.
The contest was dreamt up by Jacob, 29, who began training his glutes because of hip problems. He brought in a friend, then others, until an entire group had joined. Along the way, he began speaking about self-acceptance, freedom from shame, spiritual strength and a new understanding of masculinity.
The Glute Max Guy
Another figure in Davis’s piece is Dylan, known online as Glute Max Guy. After ten years in the gym, he decided to focus on his neglected lower body and began posting daily videos, promising to continue until his backside no longer fitted in his trousers.
He trains six days a week, eats around 200 grams of protein a day and, by his own account, takes 10 to 15 grams of creatine daily. Otherwise, his content shows an ordinary man training methodically and watching reality TV with his wife. Men leave admiring comments, women ask for advice, and he has launched a subscription community, the Glute Max Club.
From upper body to lower body
The trend is not entirely new. As early as October 2025, the American edition of GQ noted men’s growing focus on their glutes. For decades, the ideal male physique was built from the waist up: broad shoulders, chest, arms and abs.
Television helped shift that. Heated Rivalry, the series about a secret romance between two professional hockey players, put the male body in the spotlight, with the actors’ bare backsides widely admired. In January, actor Hudson Williams told Men’s Health he wanted to build more muscle, acknowledging that co-star Connor Storrie had set the bar high.
Davis notes the interesting reversal: a queer romance has helped shape an ideal that reaches far beyond a queer audience. Women in her piece enthuse about the hockey players, while their husbands realise they are lagging behind. One married man admits the conversations made him insecure about his own flat backside.
Athletes as the new reference point
The desirable male body is now found more often on the pitch than the catwalk. Jude Bellingham, Frances Tiafoe, Carlos Alcaraz and hockey players with powerful thighs have become aesthetic benchmarks. The goal is volume, curve and visible strength.
High fashion is still catching up. Davis observes that many designers continue to show clothes on very slim bodies. Demna at Gucci and Prada have experimented with trousers that emphasise the backside, though their models remain far from athletic proportions. Stylist Ian Bradley notes that more options now exist for men with larger thighs and glutes, citing Thom Browne and Zegna.
The other side of the obsession
Not everyone feels like a winner. Tom, a 45-year-old gay man, once trained for the classic Fire Island physique. The pandemic interrupted his routine, and his body later changed while he was taking a GLP-1 medication. He now describes his backside as aged and flat, and despite training four times a week, struggles to restore its old shape. It is an anxiety that women and many gay men have long known, now reaching straight men too.
A new way of being a man
There is also a less obvious side. Men comparing glutes, posing in thongs and swapping tips are finding ways to talk about their appearance and enjoy admiration without apology. Jacob goes further, believing glute training can help men make peace with their bodies and move away from the aggressive masculinity of the manosphere.
The underlying shift, as Davis’s piece suggests, is simple: straight men are realising they do not have to be only the ones who look. They can also want to be looked at.
In November, one of Jacob’s 30 friends will take home his plaster cast. Our thanks to Allison P. Davis and The Cut for noticing what the rest of us had, quite literally, put behind us.
With information from The Cut
