Monday, February 27, 2006
Face Masks and Fake Micro-Dermabrasion
Last week I had this horrible cold that left my upper lip and chin all red and chaffed from constantly blowing my nose. (You know how it is.) It was rather unsightly, so I decided to find some sort of a face mask at the drug store that might take away a bit of the red. I had a party that night to go to that would be full of people I went to high school with, and I didn't want everyone to talk about me.
I was out in Greenwich, so after the gym I walked over to the CVS, (oh, no one walks along the Post Road, so I've learned) which is ten times the size of any CVS I have ever seen. It's also bathed in low, gentle lighting and so full of products you could have a nervous breakdown trying to pick out a shampoo.
I, however, was in the market for a face mask. I needed something gentle that would exfoliate as well as moisturize. I figured the CVS in Riverside would be a great place to look. They have aisles and aisles of stuff.
Perhaps, though, too much stuff. Crap, at that.
Like I said, I wanted a face mask. I wanted a 20-minute, slather it on and laugh-at-the-fact-that-it's-green face mask. Kinf of like we used to do at slumber parties back in Seventh grade.
Instead of masks, I found boxes that looked like weird science-experiments. There were age-defyers and anti-wrinkle serums. In the back of the store were plush robes and slippers, to create that "spa feeling" at home. (Um, isn't the point of going to a spa to get away from home?) And this was at a CVS.
Then I saw the micro-dermabrasion kits.
Here's the thing: At home micro-dermabrasion is a sham. It's a sham that companies like L'Oreal are selling for $30 a pop and telling all these women that it's going to take years off their face. It's not, because a battery-operated machine simply cannot do that.
Real micro-dermabrasion happens either at the dermatologist's office or at a spa (never at a nail salon). A micro-derm machine is about the size of a vacuum and sells for a couple hundred dollars, if not a thousand. You also need to be trained on it.
A real micro-derm procedure basically takes off a layer of cells from your face and sucks out the crap that's in your pores. (Lovely, n'est pas?) It's a little rough at first but feels like a little vacuum going over your face. A micro-derm session is usually followed by a steam-cleansing facial, to wash all the junk off your face and to give you a glow.
When you leave, you hand your esthician or doctor about $200 and hide your face until you get home. Micro-derm can leave you really red. However, once it settles down, usually within a few hours or a day, you will look great. Rested. Renewed. I say, take advantage.
So how can these companies sell what is ultimately an effective $200 procedure for $30 in a box? All these products are the Easy-Bake Oven version of a real procedure. I was aghast. I couldn't find a decent mask because the shelves were full of fake micro-dermabrasion. Outrage.
I finally did find a mask. It was Neutrogena's Advanced Solutions Facial Peel. It claims to be a professional-level facial peel, without the acid. (Fair enough.) According to the box, if it tingles, it's working. By working, it takes away surface skin cells without irritation and redness. (For $26, the results were lukewarm, at best.)
I've also had fruit-acid peels at the dermatologist's office. No lie, they hurt like hell. It's essentially a controlled burn. But, like micro-dermabrasion, once the redness goes away, you look bright and glowy. It also costs about $100 a pop for a fruit-acid peel. If you have to look good for something, it's well worth it.
What makes me mad about the way the beauty industry is going is that they're trying to sell watered-down versions of effective treatments. Why spend $30 over and over when you could save up that money and get the real deal and probably have better results? One of these drugstore products hardly accomplishes even a tenth of what the dermatologist or esthician can do.
Ladies, why waste your money? You wouldn't take a half-assed guy or a dress that didn't fit right. Why settle for something just because it has a fancy, scientific name or is lit up under blue lighting at CVS.
I'm not hating...I'm just saying.
