I feel like my face is sucking a lemon.
Per instructions, I’ve pumped two squirts of Allurica Clinical Strength 4 Minute Facelift onto my fingertips and rubbed it in vigorously from chin to nose, then pumped another two to cover my forehead and scowl lines.
Now I’m to sit still and wait for it to completely set and magically lift my face.
Mindy Miller Berg, my pusher, says, “it’s a temporary fix, but there’s nothing like it for special occasions; when you’re going out to dinner or being photographed.”
Check, check, check . . .
Sounds like a wedding, which I just happen to have coming up, my daughter’s, in fact. On April 18. And, oh man, do I need work.
If Mindy’s name is familiar, by the way, the 51-year-old New Jersey-based marketing pro, editor, stand-up comedian and sometime photographer underwent a physical and emotional overhaul courtesy of “Today” show nutritionist Joy Bauer and her Get Fit Club last year.
Mindy tripped across Allurica when a friend asked her to take before and after photos at a conference, and watched as one after another guest slapped on the product and sat in front of the camera. “I finally got up my gumption and tried it. I said, Holy crap! I don’t buy into hype but . . . ”
That’s four minutes of typing, excuse me while I go check my face.
Well, how interesting! The marionette lines that have etched themselves from the corners of my mouth to my chin are gone. My forehead is, I think, 50 percent smoother.
Since Mindy cautioned me not to use anything too heavy or oily, I can now put on moisturizer, BB cream, a little bronzer, mascara, lipstick and, hey . . .
I look a tad tighter, but not plasticized. Better, though not incredible. I could be deluding myself.
Let’s just go and ask my husband’s opinion, although this is frequently a mistake.
Sidling bravely into his office I say, “Honey, does my face look any different?”
“Than what?” He says, looking up from the paperwork he was shuffling about on his desk.
“Than it did yesterday.”
“You’re wearing makeup.”
“It’s not the makeup.”
“I’m not supposed to notice the lipstick?”
“This is a little tricky,” he says warily, suspecting a trap.
“Just be honest. Do you see anything different?”
“You don’t usually have lipstick on in the morning.”
“It’s not the lipstick.”
He studies me in a way he hasn’t studied me in years and says: “You did something to your eyebrows?”
“No, I didn’t do anything to my eyebrows. Do I look at all different?”
“You have color right here,” he says, rubbing the apples of his cheeks.
“Yeah, but it’s not the color.”
“Did you get implants?” (I’m surprised that he says this so calmly)
“No,” I say, resorting to hints. “Does my face look any tighter . . . or less lined?”
“Since yesterday?” A lengthy period of facial study ensues. “Well. Your cheeks look full and firm, is that what I’m supposed to notice?”
“Maybe. How about my forehead?”
“I see furrows in it.”
“Hmmm, okay,” I say with, I guess, a hint of disappointment.
“Was I not supposed to see them?”
“How about my chin?”
“No, I don’t see anything; did I use to see something?”
I laugh a small, aha! laugh and return to my brow. “Do my forehead furrows look the same?”
Another studied pause: “Basically . . . you look less furrowed than you usually do. What is it, an overnight serum?” (He knows from serum since there are bottles of various brands falling off the bathroom shelf.)
“It’s a four-minute facelift.”
“My goodness,” he says. Which in retrospect is an oddly mild reply. Possibly he’s relieved. “So, how long does it last? Four minutes? Walking down the aisle takes longer than that. ” He laughs soundlessly, which for him is uproarious and always an unsettling sight, rather like viewing a silent movie.
Three hours later and the grooves below my mouth are reappearing, although my face still appears softer–like a smear of Old Hollywood Vaseline on the camera lens. Maybe I could make it through the wedding. Mindy says she sometimes reapplies Allurica to trouble spots a few times a day, but the longer she uses it the less she needs. “You don’t have a lot of time to rest in bitch face. Even though it’s temporary, it’s muscle memory.”
At $90 for a one-month supply, one would hope there was some incremental improvement. Well . . . Mindy says with regular use you retrain your face to–not scrunch so much. Used with Botox, she says, the smoothing effect of that powerful injectible, which usually lasts around three months, is strengthened and prolonged.
The Allurica Clinical Strength 4 Minute Facelift was developed by Gregory Kelly, who brought Dermasilk’s Five-Minute Facelift to market in 1994. Dermasilk is sold for $29.95 on Amazon, and has a 3.7 out of 5 star rating.
Is this four-minute version $61.05 better? I have no idea. Kelly was not available for comment.
Allurica is not yet available in the Washington area, and will be sold only by dermatologists and at spas (like a high-end Mary Kay or Avon). The company is so new that the web page is still in development, but more information and lots of before and after shots are available on Allurica’s Facebook page. And they are quite remarkable (which is how I got sucked into trying it).
“It’s truly revolutionary,” says Mindy, whose experiments with various face firmers border on the heroic. “Nothing else does what this does.”
Perhaps I just need better training, but the only lemon I want to be sucking is at the wedding, in a gin and tonic.
More Mother of the Bride struggles coming up soon (before the wedding!).