Peptides have slipped out of the lab and into Instagram feeds and college mini-fridges. In a lengthy piece for New York Magazine, Ezra Marcus dives into how they became wellness culture's latest everything-fix. If you don't think you're familiar with peptides, you actually are: The P in GLP-1 stands for peptide; insulin is a peptide as well. "Peptides are the body's messengers," Marcus explains, and while our bodies produce the chains of amino acids naturally, more than 80 have been lab-made over the last century and can be injected at home. "They can tell skin cells to make more collagen, spur muscle growth after exercise, or affect immune activity," Marcus writes. And he frames GLP-1s as a sort of gateway drug:
They got us used to the idea of self-injection "while opening the door—psychologically and commercially—for a wave of other compounds promising miraculous benefits." But what's emerged is a vast gray economy made up of US compounding pharmacies, Chinese factories, and the TikTok influencers who sell the vials. Amid feel-good anecdotes (one 34-year-old shares how her decade of knee pain vanished within weeks of taking peptides; she also describes brighter skin, more energy, and no hangovers) are real gaps: a lack of clinical data, inconsistent dosing, contamination risks, and the potential for real harm. Read the full story, which recounts Marcus' personal peptide use.