Dracula facelifts and the illusion of beauty
The thing is, there’s no getting around ageing – yet. And there’s no getting around weight gain, either, except by dieting. Unless you’ve had your stomach stapled.
Yet this very simple, only mildly trying truth about life and the body, continues to be totally ignored thanks to the eternal hope that expensive treatments that feel good and cost no energy will suddenly also turn out to do what those more tiresome measures really do. (Meanwhile, fad diets and other diet books fly off the shelves. Also meanwhile, we are addicted to food porn: who doesn’t love watching people cook on TV?)
This (almost endearing?) eternal hope – this self-deception that you CAN have your cake and scoff it too – is the only explanation I can think of for why an upscale beauty emporium in Notting Hill has begun offering Dracula Therapy – where a person’s blood in the thigh is sucked out, mixed into a cocktail with added vitamins, and re-injected into the face. The result is meant to be a quasi-facelift. Wow, crooned the PR telling me about this, it really makes your face look smooth and uplifted. But, but, but….the body’s job is to circulate blood so that it picks up the right amount of nutrients anyway, right? Sucking it out and re-injecting it into the face -as though it will just stay put there- seems beyond weird, fanciful, and certainly unbothered by science.
Worse, it sounds ancient, like some cruel practice we abandoned along with the stocks and other tortures. Oh, and leeches and maggots (which some people, including celebrities, do actually use these days to – you guessed it – look younger).
There are plenty of other therapies that are based on the short-cut fantasy, for example a non-invasive one where fat is pulverised in a machine as you stand there being pumelled – the idea being that you pee it out afterwards (surely exercise is the best pulveriser?). There are many more. You can get your capillaries constricted with a laser to reduce the appearance of blue veins – those unsightly devils.
Is there no limit to the modern chamber of horrors we will put outselves through in pursuit of skin that may look, oh say 6 weeks less battered, for a temporary period of time, or a body that looks, oh 3 Mars bars less plump?