I’ve got braces at 53 — so I can smile for the first time in years!

ThIS smiling photo is, believe me, a worldwide exclusive. A lifelong phobia of my front teeth (thanks to an embarrassingly obvious filling on my incisor when I was nine) has, for the past 25 years as a beauty editor, caused me to wear a ‘downward smile’ frowning at the edges, never exposing my teeth and ensuring the early onset of super-ageing, marionette ‘puppet’ lines at the sides of my mouth.

Yet, here I am, aged 53, spontaneously smiling with more confidence than I have had my entire adult life, and all thanks to braces. They’re not even off yet, but ‘train-tracks’ make me look and feel younger. Almost teen; the age we assume we ‘ought’ to wear them.

And it’s not just me. Adult braces — defined as those worn past the age of 35 — are ‘on trend’ and up by about 70 per cent in the UK alone. More than a quarter of us have had some form of cosmetic dentistry in an industry that is worth more than £2 billion.

A confident smile is now seen as an ultimate anti-ager, a longer-lasting solution to injectables.

‘The lower half of the face is the most ageing part,’ says Dr Uchenna Okoye, aesthetic dentist and clinical director of London Smiling Dental Group. ‘The collagen and bone density that naturally lift and support our features rapidly diminishes with hormonal changes throughout a woman’s life.’

Cover the bottom half of your face and chances are your face looks OK; cover the eyes and nose and you can add on another ten to 15 years as all you notice are the jowls.

‘I think of teeth as like a picket fence falling in: straighten them up and it gives support as well as a younger, fresher appearance,’ says Dr Okoye.

To make matters worse, a year ago, as if from nowhere, a gap appeared between my front teeth. It became wide enough to fit my thumbnail and even to wedge the tip of my tongue. I saw it as more ageing than any harsh vertical line etched in my face. So I booked in with Dr Okoye and her Italian orthodontist, Dr Leone Giacosa.

First off is the hygienist, as care for the gums is paramount in order to be deemed eligible for braces. At one point, I suspect I’ll never get them fitted as every appointment involves a ‘deep clean’.

‘With age, hormones, pregnancy and the menopause, women’s teeth are more prone to gum issues than men,’ says Dr Okoye.

‘Everyone benefits from better brushing with an electric toothbrush, stopping smoking, and vitamin D supplements to boost bone health and get gums back in order.’

Finally, and I do mean months later, my mouth and I are ready. I lie back for Dr Giacosa. he’s a specialist in the three most common braces — lingual braces (hidden brackets), Invisalign (the popular new clear alternative to braces worn 23 hours a day that can’t be seen, however you need to remove them to eat and drink) and cosmetic braces (the classic ceramic-style brackets, which work faster to tighten gaps).

I’m having a ceramic one called a Damon brace and, due to the fact I’m at a top London clinic, it is eye-wateringly expensive — £5,000 — but prices elsewhere in the country start from £1,500.

Lip balm smeared on my lips (buttermilk flavour I think), goggles on, and no anaesthetic required, this is my kind of dentistry. The entire process of pain-free poking, prodding, and fixing on 14 tiny brackets with dental superglue under a UV light, then tightening a wire between, takes 40 minutes: less time than a blowdry.

Effortless. But not for long: ‘Your teeth may be sore for a few weeks, and your lips and lining of the mouth scratched by the braces,’ warns Dr Giacosa.

‘Your speech may be affected and you may end up with a temporary lisp. Eating may be a challenge. A definite ‘no’ to chewy foods like sticky gums, nougat and toffee. Avoid hard nuts and baguettes, and cut back on red wine, tea and coffee.’

Three minutes later, ordering my espresso, because I simply must have my fix, it’s alarming how many times I have to repeat my order to the confused barista.

My ‘teeth’ suddenly seem overwhelming in size for my poor mouth. My top lip curls, catches and scratches on each bracket with every syllable. I officially have ‘the lisp’.

My mobile rings, I pick up. ‘Ejow?’ They hang up. It dawns on me that I may well be spending the next few days at home, adjusting — possibly weeping. Once home, my husband, who much like me, fully under- estimated their very real appearance in the cold light of day, smiles and says, ‘Oh.’ Long pause. ‘Will they be there long?’ I won’t deny the first ‘careful’ kiss felt less than spontaneous. Curiously, my children, aged 22, 20 and 16, didn’t notice until the next day, partly because, by then, I had adopted an awkward ‘hand over mouth’ pose from embarrassment.

BEYOnDthe initial howls of laughter and ‘why have you bothered at your age’, my son, who also grew up with braces and still wears a retainer, encouragingly said: ‘good for you’.

My girls on the other hand, who have pretty, healthy teeth and never any need for braces, all exclaimed: ‘I want braces too!’

It takes about two weeks for the deep- seated nerve pain in each tooth (that comes with teeth being moved against their will) to gradually ebb away with maximum-strength paracetamol.

The rubbing and cutting of the lining of my mouth caused by rough edges and exposed wires is the worst sensation, but Dr Giacosa gives me a little box containing a small lump of clear orthodontic wax. This breaks off into tiny pieces, and when warmed and pressed on to any rough edges proves to be a lifesaver, acting as a barrier to protect delicate skin.

Dining out is a confidence zapper. I can chat and slowly chew food for ten to 15 minutes, then spend the ensuing 20 picking out quinoa and kale.

In the privacy of my own home it looks gross; in public, I abstain rather than reveal my supper in all its splendour. A toothpick and a magnifying mirror at all times now replace flossing until I later try the Waterpik water flosser, from £46 at amazon.co.uk, that addictively deep cleans. If in doubt, I stick to soup.

Three months on, I wear braces with ease. There is no pain, until they need tightening again, and I use less wax as my gums become used to the chaffing.

I’m smiling more than ever. A deep line on my upper lip has vanished thanks to the temporary ‘ trout pout’ effect of wearing braces; but more importantly the gap between my front teeth has completely closed, while my twisted incisor stands straight for the first time ever.

Strangers still stare when I speak, but I no longer care. The average length of an orthodontic treatment is 12 to 18 months, but I should be done by June as my teeth have already reshaped. But I will have to wear a retainer every night to stop them from shifting back.

My husband says supportively, ‘You’ll be pleased in the end,’ but I am already.

And as for my son’s ‘why, at your age’? Why not? Our parents may have accepted lousy teeth as the classic sign of ageing, but more and more of my generation aren’t. After all if you’ve got another 30odd years on this planet, you might as well make sure you can smile your way through whatever life throws at you.