“wine face”.
It all began like most of my wellness neuroses – with a Goop podcast. I’d zoned out as the guests chatted feverishly about bone broth and leaky guts ( this episode happened to be tackling the topic of the skingut connection), but suddenly I found myself wrenched from a daydream by two little words:
Sadly not a reference to the regrettable selfie pose we all crack out after tanking too many pinots, “wine face” was coined to describe the serious damage wine – and booze more generally – does to our complexion. And though I take skincare scare stories like I take my tequila – with a massive pinch of salt (no shade, Gwyneth) – this one cut deep.
It only takes the briefest Google search to discover this popular beauty fail is legitimate – and cosmetic dermatologist Dr Sam Bunting confirms there’s “no doubt” alcohol takes its toll on the skin. “Alcohol dehydrates, leaving skin dry, tight and lacklustre. It’s also frequently ingested alongside salty nibbles, and this can lead to facial puffiness, especially in areas of the face that are naturally prone to retaining fluid and swelling, like the under- eye area.” And the fun doesn’t stop there, apparently. “Alcoholic drinks frequently represent a sugar load, which causes insulin levels to spike, and this creates an environment that promotes skin inflammation – so common conditions like acne can flare up.” And so, with party season on the horizon and a will to keep my face at least somewhat in check, I do what anyone concerned about their health would do… I get sh*tfaced. No, really.
I start by enlisting the help of Dr Stefanie Williams, dermatologist and medical director at Eudelo, one of London’s leading clinics, to check out my skin’s vital signs (hydration, water loss, texture, redness, glow and more) on two occasions: once the morning before a heavy night out, and once after. Next? Reserving a place at the cocktail bar in London’s Smith & Wollensky for a night of raucous imbibing.
…And raucous it is. In the name of journalism, I research the topic at hand harder than anything I’ve ever researched. I research it to the tune of innumerable cocktails until my stomach feels like a hotel minibar that has been pushed down a flight of stairs. So thoroughly, in fact, that I barely make it to my follow-up appointment at Eudelo the next morning.
“That’s interesting…” the dermatologist chimes after my apologetic arrival at the clinic, chewing gum and clutching a Lipton Ice Tea. She narrows her eyes at the screen. My stomach drops. I’ve been checking my face in all nearby reflective surfaces and, frankly, things aren’t looking great. My skin feels tight, my cheeks are flushed and I somehow feel both saggy and puffy.
“Your hydration levels are better than yesterday’s,” she continues. “Your skin texture has deteriorated slightly, and you’re a little redder, but generally there’s very little difference.”
What’s more, the clinician remeasures my glowiness on the “glossymeter” (its actual name), which calculates how light reflects off the skin, and this has also improved. Perhaps this confirms my inkling that a “hangover glow” does exist?
A rude awakening
Dr Stefanie insists that alcohol is in no way beneficial for skin hydration (killjoy). “There are many different possible reasons why your skin hydration levels may have increased – likely totally independent of the alcohol consumption.” She suggests a change in cleanser or moisturiser might be enough to influence results.
My bubble continues to burst as Dr Stefanie explains that it’s chronically – rather than over the course of one night – that the long-term effects of drinking begin to show. She warns me that between cortisol (your “stress hormone”) stimulation and free-radical generation, frequent binge drinking very likely encourages premature
“My cheeks are flushed and I feel both saggy and puffy”
ageing. Plus, according to Dr Bunting, chronic heavy drinking can lead to inflammation, fixed redness and broken capillaries appearing on the face.
A few mornings later, I’m reminded of my experiment by a cluster of spots near my mouth and on my forehead (areas dermatologically associated with diet and stress hormones, respectively). Until my conversation with Dr Stefanie, I’d have ignored these flare-ups (just like I ignored the flashbacks of reclining on top of the bar like a crazed jazz singer as I ordered another margarita). Suddenly it dawns on me: though it feels like the jury’s out when it comes to “wine face”, it’s really a waiting game before effects begin to show, just like with sun exposure, too much sugar and smoking. The verdict? An extra round on a night out won’t prove ruinous the morning after (although my boss says I’ll change my mind about that in 10 years, when I’m 36), but over time, it might not be worth the risk.