Can a €1,000 facial really be worth it?
Electric shocks, an IV drip and more than two hours of pummelling . . .
THIS is beyond weird,’ remarks John the photographer as he snaps away. ‘Mmn nnngh,’ I reply from beneath the thick layer of alginate face mask that has been pasted from my hairline to my chin, across my eyes and straight over my mouth — and which is fast setting into a rubbery skin.
It feels weird enough on the inside of the mask, but I suspect it looks worse from the outside. John has seen me through some odd stories in the past few months, but this clearly takes the biscuit.
The mask is hooked up to an electrical current, which is driving the healing skincare ingredients that were applied before the mask deeper into the skin.
It’s also making the retinal nerves behind my eyes twitch, so the darkness behind my closed eyelids is quivering like a black-and-white TV on the blink.
Welcome to The Recharge, a new facial that costs over €1,000. It is certainly like nothing else I have ever experienced.
There’s more to this two-and-ahalf-hour beauty extravaganza than just a facial, but before I get into the details, we’d better have a look at that price.
No, that wasn’t a misprint. It’s €1,132 — which is an eye-popping sum.
You could buy a car for that. Go on holiday. Book a year’s worth of monthly facials at your local beauty salon.
Joanne Evans, the super-facialist behind The Recharge, sees things differently. She is one of the best skin-perfectors in Europe and has spent years building up a devoted clientele, who whiz around the world thanks to their high-flying jobs. When they manage to force a gap in their schedules and snag some time with Joanne (no mean feat, as she is usually booked up for three months in advance) they want to make the most of it.
So they have taken to booking a big chunk of time and asking for the works — not just normal facial stuff, but everything else that can be packed in, too — from lasers that disperse pigmentation to vitamin infusions to boost energy levels.
Joanne’s treatment rooms are tucked away in the basement of Bodyism, surely the most glamorous gym in London. Pippa Middleton buys protein powder here, while Game Of Thrones star Emilia Clarke and model David Gandy are said to be regulars. Once I have shucked off my shirt and wriggled on to the bed, I feel a rush of glee at the prospect of such appallingly expensive indulgence.
Before Joanne gets to grips with my face, nurse Colette Bateman steps in to administer a cocktail of vitamins and minerals, to boost my energy. ‘Do I need this?’ I ask. ‘I eat my greens.’
‘Most of us are deficient in vitamins B and C,’ Collette assures me, as she slips in the cannula with barely a scratch, ‘and you can’t overdose on this.’ In the IV bag, there is also calcium, magnesium (for tense muscles) and zinc (for propping up the immune system).
While that is all being set up, Joanne sets about my face. She cleanses, steams and massages.
There is ‘jetsteam dermabrasion’, a small device that scours away dead skin cells. It’s not uncomfortable and when, after a sousing with salicylic acid — a peeling agent that causes the top layer of skin to shed — she starts easing out blackheads from blocked pores, I hardly notice. That’s partly because she’s gentle, partly because the salicylic acid has softened the blackheads, and partly because Polly, a reflexologist, is working on my feet and exploring my general health. This, too, is hugely relaxing, apart from a few painful spots when she edges along the line that relates to my urethra. Apparently, this means I need to drink more water. I soon lose track of time. At some point, the IV is gently removed from my arm; I don’t even notice. There are hydrating serums, which are worked into the skin with a microneedling device — it pricks the face to allow the serums to penetrate further and to stimulate the growth of collagen.
There’s ultrasound treatment, to push rejuvenating plant stem cell serums deep into the skin.
JOANNE deploys two microcurrent devices to tone and hoist my contours into shape. She calms my face by massaging it with crystal wands, good for easing away stress and lifting the face, apparently.
Next is a session of quick blasts of intense pulsed light (IPL), a laser-like device whose beams break up pigmentation and stimulate my skin to renew itself.
IPL is usually compared to being flicked with elastic bands but ooh, this is more like being flicked with elastic bands by the school bully.
And then there’s The Mask. I can hear Joanne whisking up the thick, alginate paste before painting it over my face, starting at the top of my forehead and covering my eyes and mouth, all the way down my neck to my collarbone. I find it rather fabulous, a further level of being cocooned from the world.
It sets into a solid rubbery mass, at which point she clips on the electrodes and slips a conducting pad beneath my right shoulder, so that gentle electrical currents can pass through the mask and encourage the absorption of the vitamin serums beneath.
Apart from the flickering retinal nerve, all is serene, particularly as Joanne spends the next 20 minutes easing out the knots in my neck and shoulders that are a result of hours hunched over my laptop.
It is with great regret, when she peels off the mask and pats on some final serums, that I have to peel myself off the treatment bed.
I feel fabulous. Energy is zinging through my body, my mind is calm and my skin looks almost as clear and glowing as an A-lister’s.
But is it really worth it? Without winning the lottery, I’m unlikely ever to be in a position to say ‘yes’. And there are cheaper versions on the market, for example the widely-available CACI facial. It might not have all the bells and whistles but it still uses electrical pulses.
And, given that the ‘feeling fabulous’ effect had worn off by the next day, and that, after an amazing night’s sleep, I felt on the verge of a nasty cold, this may well be one indulgence even a beauty addict like me can’t quite justify.