This month, our columnist goes in search of a new beauty climax
Our columnist ponders the existence of an orgasmic facial
HELP! I’VE LOST MY GLOW! Hung-over, no sleep and too much vodka is what my early-morning face suggests these days. I look shattered, and yet the only liquid to pass my lips last night was a peppermint tea. Slathered in Sisley’s brand new anti-ageing eye cream (it’s the bomb, btw) and in bed by 10pm? The old Mademoiselle would be rolling her eyes and drawing squares in the air.
‘I feel like crap, I’ve lost my glow,’ I tell a girlfriend over dinner. ‘Want to find it?’ she asks, leaning closer. ‘Want to reconnect with your clitoris?’ ‘Err, what?’ ‘Orgasmic Meditation. I could stroke your clit for 15 minutes, or you could get HIG to do it, or you could see Naomi, my teacher; she’s very nice.’ I choke on a courgette and someone calls an ambulance.
No prude, I call Naomi Cambridge to discover more. Orgasmic Meditation (OM) is when ‘women connect to their power and magnetism through pleasure’, she tells me. OM, a 15-minute ‘partnered practice’, combines meditation with the ‘electricity of a prolonged orgasm state’ – without actually climaxing, I hasten to add (v important to note in a group scenario, I imagine). Cambridge reckons her daily Orgasmic Meditation connects her to an ‘inner radiance’, which essentially has nothing to do with what she looks like – it’s how it makes her feel. Being in an orgasmic state releases oxytocin, the ‘love’ hormone that makes us happy, which may explain why my friend looked so glowy without the assistance of strobe make-up the other night. Cambridge talks me through a 12step process, but I lose track around step two: ‘make a nest and spread your legs’. I imagine HIG massaging my clit before the school run – will there be time to iron the kids’ shirts? I hang up and stare at my crotch. Could daily Orgasmic Meditation practice really lead to a lifetime of happiness, fulfilment – and glowing skin?
Cambridge’s description of her inner glow gets me thinking: we’re all going to end up in an old people’s home wearing our dinner down our front, so how do we get from ‘peak glow’ – in my case, 2008, a year of thigh-high boots, musky perfume, mussedup hair and multiple orgasms, juicier than an over-ripe melon, I’ve never looked better – to, well, The End? Sex boots and hearing aids all the way, eh? I look less Rihanna more Widow Twankey in thigh-high boots these days. It’s time for plan B.
If the key to my inner glow lies within my pants, I’m lying on a bed in a small room on the fourth floor of a building on Wimpole Street in the hope of finding my outer glow. I’m in the right place: Dr Prager is well versed in rejuvenation, and I’m about to have the facial actresses have before braving the red carpet. A woman with a calming voice smothers my face in Skinceuticals cleanser before giving my face a much-needed vitamin C peel. ‘When was your last facial?’, she enquires. ‘Seven years ago,’ I reply. Tumbleweed whistles past the couch, as an ultrasound tickles my face. Nippy little shocks run up and down my cheeks. My skin is treated to a cocktail of vitamins and botanicals, which makes a nice change from vodka. Then lashings of serum is massaged into my dry skin for what feels like forever. After an hour, I look like a new woman – lines are softened, tired eyes gone, even my cheeks feel plumper.
‘Time for a little light air-brushing, perhaps?’ quips Dr Prager, in a gentle German accent. He takes a 3D snap of my face. I look like an ancient Greek bust, ancient being the operative word. ‘The face is all about shadows and reflections,’ says Prager, before filling my under-eye area with ‘extremely light filler’. He hands me a mirror. It’s not quite 2008 marching through Soho in sky-high boots, but the difference is nothing short of orgasmic. I wonder whether HIG will notice. The following morning, my boyfriend stares at me. *Long pause* ‘So that pile of blankets in the corner of the bedroom?’ he finally pipes up, between mouthfuls of Bran Flakes. ‘Oh, darling, that’s just our Orgasmic Meditation nest.’ ‘Come again?’ Dr Prager’s Illuminator Facial costs £295; fillers start at £895 (drmichaelprager.com). Naomi Cambridge’s OM costs £480 for three private instructional sessions, or £199 for a one-day class (naomicambridge.com)