When the Price of Beauty Goes Up: How Trump’s Tariffs Are Squeezing Black Hair Care

The Salon Chair Revolution

On a breezy Saturday morning in Baltimore’s Mondawmin neighborhood, the hum of hair dryers and the chatter of stylists fill the air at Janice Lowe’s 5 Starr Salon. But lately, the lively buzz hides a quiet worry: How much longer can we afford this?

For Janice, the price of a pack of braiding hair has nearly tripled. The same bundles she once bought for $120 are now nudging $250—and that’s before she even picks up her scissors.

“It’s hard to tell my clients I have to raise prices again,” she says, shaking her head. “So instead, I just tell them: bring your own hair if you can. Otherwise, I’m not making any profit.”

An Industry on the Edge

For millions of Black women—and men—hair isn’t just hair. It’s identity. It’s culture. It’s an economy all its own, woven through barbershops, braiding chairs, kitchen sinks, beauty supply aisles, and late nights prepping wigs for the week ahead.

But now, a new threat has come for the hair industry—not from a new style or trend, but from a tariff code buried deep in Washington’s trade wars.

Back in 2018, President Trump slapped steep tariffs on thousands of products imported from China—including the synthetic and human hair that makes up the bulk of America’s Black hair market. The duties hit up to 145% at their peak, and even after partial rollbacks, they’re still hovering around 30%.

For the small Black-owned shops and stylists who rely on these imports, that’s an economic gut punch.

Baltimore’s Beauty Supply Hubs Feel the Pinch

At Beauty Plus in West Baltimore, Quintin and Megan Lathan have stocked the shelves with wigs, bundles, edge control, and braiding packs for nearly a decade. These days, they check shipment invoices with furrowed brows.

“A case of hair we’d pay $3 for, now costs $10,” Quintin says. “You can’t just triple the price and expect people to keep buying. So we’re eating it, piece by piece.”

They’ve watched some local customers drift to bigger chains or online mega-retailers—companies better equipped to absorb cost hikes. For independent stores, the choices are brutal: cut margins to zero, pass the cost to loyal customers, or close up shop.

Stylists Stuck in the Middle

Cory Holland, who braids hair from her small studio in Severn, Maryland, says she’s had no choice but to tack on extra fees—$5 here, $20 there—to cover rising supply costs.

“I hate it,” Cory says. “Some of my clients work two jobs already. They save up for this hair. Now I have to tell them it’s another $50? It’s like telling someone their crown costs double.”

For Cory, each new price hike feels like an attack on her livelihood and her culture.

“Black hair is our story,” she says. “When you touch that, you touch us.”