The undone face
There’s a new approach to cosmetic procedures, and it’s the antithesis of the more-is-more aesthetic you see on social media. This is much more subtle; imperceptible, even. Meet the cosmetic doctor leading the charge
WHEN CLIENTS SIT ON DR VICKY DONDOS’ CLINICAL BED, the first thing she does is hand them a mirror. ‘Tell me what you see,’ she says. It’s less of an instruction; more a friendly inquisition. She watches as women (it’s almost always women) pore over their faces, pointing to a pigmentation mark here, an almost invisible crease there. But it’s when, and more crucially how, they speak about their faces that Dr Dondos (known to her regulars as Vicky) really takes notice. She will make notes. She will remember that Client X feels ‘sad’ when they look in the mirror. Or stressed. Or, God forbid, ‘too much like their mother’. That’s when things start to get interesting.
‘I’m fascinated by those people who come in, sit down and immediately tap into the emotional side of things. They explain that their face makes them feel a certain way, as opposed to coming to me with a highly researched shopping list of procedures they think they need.’ With these clients, she is more therapist than cosmetic doctor, as intrigued by the workings of their minds as she the voluminosity of their lips.
Dondos, who at 47 looks at least a decade younger, is one the UK’s pre-eminent cosmetic doctors. A practising aesthetic specialist for over 15 years, there’s nothing she doesn’t know about the ‘tweakment’ business – and there’s nothing she doesn’t know about how women feel when they submit their faces to cosmetic intervention.
It’s this that intrigues her. So much so that she has written an excellent book, The Positive Ageing Plan. In it, she explores the complicated niche between natural evolution and cosmetic intervention, offering multiple plans for women who fancy a bit of both. As part of the book’s research, she interviewed hundreds of women – including her own clients – about what beauty meant to them. ‘It’s not about looking younger,’ she says firmly. ‘It’s looking fresher, less tired – more like themselves.’
The book walks through the foundations of skincare, and what it makes very clear is that aesthetic procedures will only get you so far. Stress, sleep and how much sex they’re having are far more vital in determining how Dondos’ clients look in the morning than a sprinkling of Botox. (Though her ‘sprinkles’ are some of the best in the business).
‘Let’s be clear, Botox and fillers are what people come [to me] for,’ she says, matter-of-factly. ‘And they are the cherry on top; they do give that “wow” effect. But – and it’s a big but – there’s only so much you can do on the outside. You have to look at the inside, too.’
Curiously, Dondos describes her role as being as much about ‘holding the reins’ on aesthetic interventions as it is encouraging them. Which seems mad, when you consider this is her stock-in-trade. But then she’s not like other cosmetic doctors. If you’re one of the lucky few who manages to get a consultation (she now only works two days a week at her practice, Medicetics) don’t expect any quick fixes. In fact, don’t expect any procedures at all – you’ll have to wait at least two weeks for that. She likes to do what she calls a ‘download’, so clients can sit with the information first. ‘I will probably do myself out of business,’ she laughs. Perhaps. Or she might just be the answer the industry is looking for.
COSMETIC PROCEDURES HAVE COME A LONG WAY over the past 15 years. Once the preserve of the well-heeled over-50s market, worried about crows feet and frown lines, it has morphed into something else altogether. While it has always been an industry based on wish fulfilment – the wish to look fresher, smoother, sharper – now, it is enticing a younger generation with the promise of avatar-style faces honed and designed by social media filters. You can get lip fillers on Groupon for as little as £70, and filler is also being used to reshape noses, jawlines and cheeks. Tales abound of women handing over Snapchat-filtered images in the hope of recreating what they’ve seen on screen. Major surgery is no longer needed to craft an entirely new face. This is the age of quick-fix facial overhauls.
‘The thing is, I’m the client,’ Dondos says from her west London office. ‘I’m deeply conflicted about having “work” done, and it’s my day job! There’s a side of me [filled with] shame and guilt: Why should I put so much time and money into my appearance? Once I got around all that myself, I’ve tried to help people with their own feelings; to take away some of that head space. I only look after people who look in the mirror less after treatment. It’s a way of feeling OK with what I do.’
Dondos started her career as an NHS gastroenterologist. It was a vocation she was suited to: working at breakneck speed, yet ultimately helping those in her care. (She also has a PhD in psychology.) It was when her partner, Geoff – who works alongside her in their joint practice – began looking into a move into aesthetics that she became intrigued.
‘For research for the business, I agreed to pop to Harley Street. By the end of it, my entire face was covered in black pen from a host of male doctors telling me what I “needed” to fix. It didn’t seem right,’ she says.
From the start, Dondos developed a reputation for lo-fi work – stealth procedures, if you will. Her clients still had lines on their foreheads, while her use of filler was subtle; imbuing faces with freshness. She has a lightness of touch, and is renowned for the ‘undone’ look. It’s a bit Parisian; imperceptible but still dazzling.
Her own face is an example. It is older, sure. But the skin is immaculate, the lips ever-so-slightly plump. There are lines around her eyes and frown lines in all the right places. She is not perfection, but she wears her age well. ‘I’ve been having Botox since I was 34. I have it in my crow’s feet and masseters [the muscles at the back of the jaw]. I have a bit of filler every year and I’ve just had a skin-tightening treatment. But I’m always testing myself. I haven’t had Botox in so long, it’s good to see what my face looks like. I’m scared of getting on that slippery path, always scrutinising myself.’
She says cosmetic doctors are the most ‘at risk’ for too much work. ‘Not just because of accessibility, but from the pressure. We see it all the time at cosmetic conferences. It’s like, “Oh dear, she’s fallen, he’s gone… They used to be so beautiful.”’
The issue is, cosmetic doctors are often seen as walking advertisements for the work they do. Covid regulations have meant she must wear a mask when meeting clients, so she first insists on a virtual consultation where they can see her entire face. ‘For me, it helps. It’s really important that I show people I’m not about perfection.’
Instead, she is about ‘positive ageing’ – the ability to visibly age alongside a little medical intervention, if desired. Instead of a 15-step South Korean-style skincare routine, it’s one that includes an acid (a must), plus hydroquinone for pesky pigmentation. But, most of all, it’s about connecting mind and face. She tells me she is considering having a Big Brother-style Diary Room in her next clinic (slated to open in north London next year, reaching beyond the traditional enclaves of Belgravia and Harley Street) for clients to really reflect on what they’re getting from these treatments.
‘One thing I’ve learnt for sure is that it’s never about how people look,’ she says. ‘It’s almost always about how they feel.’ The Positive Ageing Plan by Dr Vicky Dondos is out now
“I’m deeply conflicted about having work done and it’s my JOB. There’s a side of me filled WITH GUILT”