Dr. Ariel N. Rad is a board-certified plastic and reconstructive surgeon based in Washington, D.C.. He is the co-founder of SHERBER+RAD, a practice he started in 2014 with his wife, Dr. Noëlle S. Sherber. Together, they built an integrated model that brings plastic surgery and dermatology under one roof, with a strong focus on privacy, safety, and evidence-based care.
His path to success is built on depth and range. He earned a mechanical engineering degree from Princeton University, graduating magna cum laude. He then completed medical school at Duke University. During his training, he earned two Howard Hughes Medical Institute fellowships and did research at the National Institutes of Health. He later received an NIH F32 NRSA grant and completed a Ph.D. in immunology at the University of London.
Dr. Rad trained in plastic and reconstructive surgery at Johns Hopkins. He later joined the faculty there as Assistant Professor and Director of Aesthetic Plastic Surgery. Over his career, he has focused on facial aesthetic surgery and microvascular reconstruction. He has performed more than 3,000 facelifts, using refined deep-plane and endoscopic techniques developed over two decades.
SHERBER+RAD has grown through word of mouth. The practice is built around careful planning, natural-looking results, and long-term patient relationships. Dr. Rad’s career reflects a clear pattern: master the fundamentals, avoid fads, and execute with precision.
Interview with Dr. Ariel Rad
What does success mean to you now, compared to early in your career?
Success used to mean collecting wins. Get into the right school. Match into the right program. Publish the paper. Do the hard thing and prove I could do it.
Now it is simpler and harder at the same time. Success is doing high-stakes work with consistency. It is earning trust over years, not moments. It is building a practice that protects patient dignity and safety, even when that is not the easiest path.
I also think success is staying honest about what I do well and what I do not do. My focus is facial aesthetic surgery and microvascular reconstruction. I do not chase every trend. That restraint has become part of the definition for me.
How did your background in engineering and competitive swimming shape your approach to work?
Mechanical engineering trained me to respect fundamentals. If the structure is wrong, everything else fails. That mindset shows up in surgery, planning, and leadership. I like systems that are clear, logical, repeatable, and measurable.
Swimming taught me something different. It taught me how to build progress through boring consistency. You do not get faster from one heroic practice. You get faster from thousands of small, correct repetitions. That is the same muscle I use in surgery. The goal is not drama. The goal is precision, every time.
You did serious immunology research and completed a Ph.D. in London. How does that connect to your later career?
Research trained me to ask better questions. In immunology, you learn quickly that you can be confident and still be wrong. You have to test assumptions. You have to respect data. That shaped how I think about aesthetic medicine.
A lot of people treat aesthetics like a series of tricks. I approach it like a medical problem with a design component. What is the actual issue? What is the safest solution? What will still look believable in five and ten years?
In London, I also lived in a world where learning was the main job. That season made me comfortable being a student for a long time, which is important in surgery. The work is never finished.
What did professional Latin dance teach you about success that medicine did not?
Dance taught me that technique is not the same as outcome. You can do every step correctly and still not create something that feels natural. In dance, line, timing, and restraint matter. If you force it, everyone can see it.
That lesson carries into facial surgery. People do not want a face that looks operated on. They want a face that looks rested and coherent with the rest of their life. The best compliment is when the work disappears into the person.
Dance also taught me how to perform under pressure. You step onto a floor, you cannot hide, and you still have to deliver. Surgery is not performance, but it demands the same calm focus.
What has been the biggest driver of success in building SHERBER+RAD?
The biggest driver has been integration, not scale. My wife and I built SHERBER+RAD to combine dermatology and plastic surgery in one place, with a patient experience designed around privacy and detail. The private cabanas and confidential entrance are not decoration. They match the reality of who many patients are in Washington and how they want to move through care.
We also grew through word of mouth. That only happens when outcomes and experience stay consistent. It forces you to care about the whole journey, not just the procedure. It also forces you to say no. If a request would compromise safety or push someone toward an overdone result, we do not take the case.
One practical thing I do is treat every plan like a three-part system: structure, skin, and schedule. Structure is the surgical plan. Skin is the dermatology support and recovery strategy. Schedule is timing, logistics, and protecting downtime. When those three align, results improve and stress drops.
Can you share a behind-the-scenes challenge or mistake that shaped how you define success?
Early in my academic career at Johns Hopkins, I tried to say yes to everything. Teaching, operating, research, administrative work. I thought success meant being indispensable.
What it actually did was stretch my attention. And in surgery, attention is the currency. So I made a change. I got more disciplined about focus and about protecting time for the parts of the work that mattered most.
Another lesson came from reconstruction work and volunteer surgery. In places like Jolo in the Philippines where I spent a week with Operation Smile and The Healing Hands Foundation performing free cleft lip surgery for the locals, you learn that good outcomes do not come from fancy tools. They come from preparation, teamwork, and humility especially in places where poverty and squalid living conditions are unfathomable. That experience reinforced my bias toward basics: careful planning, safe environments, and clear follow-through.
Today, I judge success by whether my standards stay intact when things get busy. If the work is still precise, the environment is still respectful, and the patient is still treated like a person, not a slot on a calendar, then we are doing it right.