Facial massages are a 'wise investment' in age-proofing, says Armstrong. Photo / 123rf
Opinion by Lisa Armstrong
OPINION:
Thirty-three years ago I was in a meeting with Liz Tilberis, the late, great editor of British Vogue, where the topic for discussion was an upcoming beauty story about facial transformations (not yet Botox or fillers, but the facelifts, cat’s eyes and chiselled noses) that were becoming commonplace amongthe ultra-skinny, ultra-rich trophy wives of New York and Houston sitting on the front row at fashion shows.
Don’t be judgy, Liz told her young team. ‘Come back in 30 years’ time and tell me you’re against doing anything to your face.’
Three decades on, aged 61, here I am, ready to have that conversation. But it’s complicated. We have scores more options now than in 1990, and, if possible, we’re even more conflicted about ageing – what it means and how it should look in the 21st century.
Madonna represents one end of the spectrum; Miriam Margolyes the other. But in between there’s Robin Wright, another pin-up of mine, along with Cate Blanchett, Juliette Binoche.
Wright a few years ago gave an interview to the Telegraph in which she spoke about the ‘teeny’ interventions everyone in Hollywood is constantly having. She called them ‘sprinkles’, which made them sound innocuous, and she made not exploring the options seem like an own goal.
In a moment of near clarity, I realised that the older women I love looking at – from Christy Turlington to Sharon Stone – have great skin, and features that move. I pinpointed three main goals for myself: toning up my jaw line, keeping everything else as lifted as possible without an actual facelift, and not compromising my skin texture. I wanted a mixture of hippy-dippy therapies that I know work, and some hi-tech interventions.
Facial massages
I’ve been having monthly facial massages with facialist Alexandra Soveral, who combines a deep reservoir of scientific knowledge – she trained as a biochemist – and magic hands, since my mid-40s. It’s a luxury but a wise investment in age-proofing. Soveral’s clients are always amazed at how lifted, smooth and juicy (no other word for it) their skin looks after a treatment.
There’s science behind this. ‘When you massage your skin, you increase circulation, which brings oxygenated blood and a host of nutrients the skin needs to the surface. You’re toning muscles with mechanical stimulation,’ she says.
‘Keeping them taut and lubricated stops facial muscles from becoming like floppy elastic bands. It’s probably the best thing you can do for your face. You also drain lymph, which removes toxins and puffiness, radically improving your jawline and cheekbone definition.’
On Soveral’s recommendation, I began dry-brushing my face every morning, especially on the neck and jawline, using gentle brushes designed especially for those areas. Gradually this too made a difference.
‘People think their jaws are saggy because of excess fat or genetics, but often it’s a build-up of lymph, which massage and brushing can draw away,’ says Soveral.
The results look natural and not as ‘transformative’ as more invasive treatments. And you have to keep it up every day. Not everyone has the time, although Soveral offers up a DIY morning routine for the entire face that takes as little as two minutes.
Small things, big difference
In my mid-50s I grew more diligent, doing her routine most evenings in front of the television and later throwing in some gua sha techniques that I was introduced to by Katie Brindle, a Chinese medicine practitioner and a fount of arcane but practical knowledge. Gua sha is a traditional Chinese healing method using a smooth-edged tool, often crafted from jade or rose quartz, to massage skin.
I also discovered RevitaLash, a hormone growth serum for eyelashes. It sounds like a tiny thing, but as with fashion, small things – pockets; exactly the right length trousers; a new heel – can make a big difference.
RevitaLash makes my lashes thick, long and, importantly, believable. Every six to eight weeks, I get them ‘lifted’ (or curled) at Blink Brow Bar, which makes my eyes look more open. No need for the lash extensions or the blepharoplasty (eyelid lift) I was told I would need when I was still in my 20s.
Maybe this holistic approach would be enough if I didn’t work in fashion, where sitting on the front row twice a year can leave you exposed to brutal scrutiny, or if I hadn’t branched out into beauty writing and found myself invited to swanky clinics where they would take 3-D pictures of my face (always horrific) then show me how it could be improved.
Endless options
I’ve been offered a dazzling array of options, from the traditional facelift to electrical stimulation, light therapy, radio and sound frequency, Botox, lasers, peels and dozens of filler varieties all with slightly different objectives, as well as Profhilo, Ultherapy, thread lifts and micro needling (there will be blood, I was warned). Some seemed frightening and downright irresponsible. Others intriguing.
Dr Sophie Shotter, an aesthetic practitioner who can be relied on for honest advice and also has an ultra-light touch with both traditional and cutting-edge procedures, began by administering some Profhilo in my mid-50s. It doesn’t freeze muscles or evaporate lines: it’s not a filler. Essentially it’s a supersonic moisturiser that fast-tracks hyaluronic acid to the lower dermis.
With some practitioners, although not Shotter, who trained as an anaesthetist, it’s surprisingly painful, but it leaves an afterglow that always had people asking whether I’d just been on holiday. You’ll still have your wrinkles, but no one’s noticing them.
Everything seemed on an even keel – and then, lockdown. As for so many of us, my sleep, never brilliant, got worse. Seeing my face close-up on a screen alongside much younger colleagues made me think there must be a way of turbocharging my pick-and-mix regime without sliding down the slippery slope to the ‘too-far face’.
There was, said Shotter. Profound RF is a powerful radiofrequency treatment that kick-starts the body’s production of collagen (which firms up skin) and elastin (which improves its bounce-back). Would it erase the marionette lines that had appeared between the corners of my mouth and my chin? I was determined not to end up like one of my grandmothers, who, thanks to hers, always looked furious.
Profound RF would help soften them, said Shotter. Better still, the results happened gradually and continued improving over several years. It was the same treatment that Judy Murray had, and she looked completely natural – just more toned and lifted. In March 2021, aged 59, I took the plunge.
First thing to say: although Profound RF is not considered invasive because it doesn’t involve injectables or scalpels, it isn’t a walk in the park. My face was bruised for several days and swollen for weeks. Luckily most of us were still working from home. It’s also expensive, at £3000 to £4000.
A partial facelift could cost about £7000 and would probably deliver more dramatic results. But two years on, I’m very happy with my choice. My jawline isn’t perfect compared with the results of buccal fat removal so prevalent on TikTok and the red carpet, but it’s pretty damn toned and defined. The marionettes are softer. People talk about my bone structure, and I no longer need Profhilo.
What not to use
I don’t use retinol, a form of vitamin A, which accelerates skin cell production. Nor do I use vitamin C, which can reduce the appearance of dark spots. Sure they speed up the skin’s renewal process, which slows as we age, but according to Soveral, ‘Those baby skin cells, which should surface after 28 days, could be as little as 15 days old if you’re overusing retinols. They’re not yet equipped to fight off free radicals, which can lead to inflammation in the skin – the number one culprit when it comes to ageing.’
Instead, I’ve been trialling Soveral’s new regenerative skincare – a line of just two products at the moment called Soveral Bioactives – with traces of vitamin A, vitamin E, omega-3 and phytoestrogens. Unlike many other formulations, they’re designed to train your own cells to produce collagen and elastin rather than doing all the work for them and ultimately making them lazy.
After a month my skin felt visibly firmer – almost bouncy when I pressed it. This is key. As Shotter says, ‘Healthy skin with good texture is the absolute baseline for anything else you may want to do. You could have all the cosmetic treatments in the world, but if your skin isn’t glowy and strong, you’ll never be happy with the results.’
I should say I’ve been lucky with my skin from birth. I look after it. I don’t drink, smoke or sunbathe, and I try to eat healthily. In addition, Shotter, who’s also a hormone specialist, prescribed me bio-identical hormones that keep my bones healthy, my mood generally buoyant, my hair reasonable and my skin firm, and also improve my sleep.
Additionally, lightening my hair from brunette to pale blond has taken five years off. To be honest, it was doing it all by itself, albeit skipping the blond and going straight to grey.
EMFace
I could probably stick with this for a while. But recently I began trying EMFace, which was initially used to help victims of strokes and Bell’s palsy, and arrived in the UK as a cosmetic treatment at the start of 2023.
Over the course of a month, every week for 20 minutes or so, I’ve been going to the Urban Retreat in Harrods, where Dr Costas Papageorgiou pops some electric stimulating pads on my mid-face and forehead. EMFace produces 250 contractions per second in the facial muscles – you can feel your face moving while you lie back doing nothing.
Once you get past the weird sensation, it’s quite relaxing, thanks to the 42C of radiofrequency heat simultaneously applied to increase the results. Done wrongly, the facial exercises I flirted with in my 40s and 50s can actually deepen wrinkles, but EMFace won’t.
‘Normally when you apply electrical stimulation to the muscles, they go via the brain, but EMFace short-circuits this and that makes them more intense than anything else on the market,’ says Costas.
It can take up to 90 days for the results of four sessions to show, and they carry on improving for a year. This is another option that’s not cheap, and you’ll need refreshers every so often. Costas says EMFace isn’t a substitute for Botox and fillers or Profound RF, so much as an additional tool. At about £3000, it’s a pricey one.
But even halfway through, I’ve had a lot of compliments on how well I look – an achievement considering I’m writing this during fashion month, which is always exhausting and stressful.
For anyone who wants more defined cheekbones without any puffiness or injections, this is definitely worth considering. To keep up the toning, I’ve bought a £15 jaw exerciser on Amazon – basically dumbbells for the mouth – which I use daily.
Subtle maintenance
Ultimately, my approach is about subtle maintenance, adding a treatment here, eliminating something there. I’m wary of adding more and more from the buffet, which is partly why I’ve always hated the idea of fillers. But recently a few friends who I’d have said were not the type have had filler courtesy of Shotter, and they look great.
To my surprise, Shotter says if she had to choose a single procedure, it would be filler not Botox. ‘People think fillers will make their faces look fuller, but done properly using the right one –’ she loves HArmonyCa, which contains hyaluronic acid and lifts as well as volumises in a single shot ‘– they have the reverse effect. It’s about helping the skin’s scaffolding. You should never look different, just you on your best day.’
Costas is another fan. ‘Used correctly,’ he says, ‘fillers rebalance the face. The reason you’re so wary is that you’re only aware of the bad work. They won’t remove lines, just soften them. Everyone will say you look great and you can say you’ve been meditating.’
Soveral remains sceptical. Could I look smoother, more symmetrical? Definitely. But the most important lesson of all, I’ve learnt, is figuring out what you’re trying to achieve and how much time and money you’re prepared to devote to it. For now, I’ll take a realistically good version of me over an implausible ‘better’ one.