A woman
and her money are easily parted when it comes to anti-ageing beauty
treatments. Or, to be more accurate, this woman and her money are easily
parted.
I’m
intelligent and educated, but tell me that you can knock ten years off
my face, no matter how daft the procedure, and I’ll be rushing to the
cashpoint quicker than Usain Bolt.
In
the past I’ve been lasered, Hoovered, scrubbed and had everything from
snake venom to leeches or flakes of gold rubbed into my face without a
moment’s hesitation.
Claudia keeps till as an ice-cold exfoliating paste made of nightingale droppings is applied
But, when it came to the prospect of my most recent procedure, I have to admit I did hesitate.
It
may be reassuringly expensive and loved by A-list celebrities, but the
problem is that it just doesn’t sound very nice. Why? Because it
involves having bird poo slathered all over my chops.
Sometimes
it is referred to as the ‘Geisha facial’, other times it’s known as
the ‘Nightingale facial’ (the species that provides the raw ingredient)
or ‘Japanese facial’, but no matter how it’s dressed up it all boils
down to one thing: having animal excrement smeared on your skin.
The
facial is said to have anti-ageing qualities as well as being highly
effective in the treatment of acne scars. Victoria Beckham is reported
to be a huge fan as is Tom Cruise and even One Direction’s Harry Styles.
The
droppings in question don’t come from any old nightingale — they are
collected from a particular type, native to the Japanese island of
Kyushu. So rare are the ingredients used that very few places offer the
treatment and, when they do, it comes with a hefty price tag attached.
Today
I’m at the only salon offering it in the UK — Spa To You at the London
Hilton Hotel on Park Lane, where clients pay £180 for a 90-minute
session.
My
therapist, Kehmi, tells me that nightingale poo was first used as a
beauty treatment in Japan back in the 17th century when geisha girls and
kabuki (Japanese dance-drama) performers discovered it helped repair
skin damage caused by the heavy lead-based make-up they wore.
A gauze mask containing more nightingale guano goes on
As
the ingredients used are entirely natural (albeit slightly gross) it is
suitable for every skin type including my own very sensitive one that’s
prone to flaring up with any product that’s too heavily perfumed or
chemical-packed.
The
nightingales are fed on a special diet of seeds and berries (no juicy
worms for them), therefore the droppings are organic and vegan. So
that’s OK then.
First,
Kehmi cleanses my face in preparation for exfoliation with my first
dose of droppings. I ask to see the nightingale poop and am relieved.
I
had envisaged a lumpy, gloopy grey mess similar to the one pigeons
leave on my windscreen. In fact, the droppings are powder-fine and a
soft yellow colour.
After
collection, they are treated with UV light to sanitise and dehydrate
them before being turned into a fine powder and shipped to salons. My
mixture is a combination of the nightingale poo mixed in with a little
rice bran.
Bird dropping paste mixed with water reduces eye bags
While
the nightingale’s song may be sweet, its droppings most certainly are
not. The exfoliator feels icy cold when applied to my face and smells
like the inside of a hamster cage: musty, ripe and a little mouldy.
Kehmi uses a steam machine to help the exfoliation process as it warms the skin, so the dead skin cells lift off more easily.
After
five minutes, the bird poop is wiped off my face. My face is then toned
with rose water before being massaged in order to heat up the surface
of my skin prior to the next stage — the application of a mask also
containing nightingale guano (that’s excrement to you and me).
A
barrier cream is applied to prevent the mask from sticking to the hairs
on my face and a series of gauze swatches are laid over the top. Kehmi
warns me that some clients find the mask procedure claustrophobic as it
sets and tightens on the skin and the mouth is usually encased.
This
time, the droppings have been mixed with a little water to form a paste
— which turns the yellowy powder blue — which is then painted on to my
face and neck.
Second
time around it doesn’t smell so bad, although I’m not sure if that’s
because I have grown accustomed to it or whether the water has diluted
the pong.
In
addition to anti-ageing your skin, one of the other alleged benefits
is that it helps to lighten pigmentation marks caused by sun damage and
reduce the effects of unsightly eye bags.
The nightingales are fed a special diet of seeds and berries so that droppings are organic and vegan
This
is because the droppings contain an enzyme called ‘guanine’ that’s
present in our own DNA. The amino acid works as a natural bleaching
agent, lightening dark circles and blemishes.
Urea
(a waste product excreted in urine) is also found in the droppings and,
while it’s another unappealing aspect of the treatment, it’s been found
to help lock moisture into the skin.
Grim
as it all sounds, if it works, it’s just what I need as, in my teens
before the dangers were fully known, I used sunbeds every weekend,
resulting in lots of unsightly brown marks around my forehead and on my
cheeks.
The
mask hardens after ten minutes, making me look like Hannibal Lecter.
After another ten minutes, it is lifted off in one piece. Any remaining
residue is then cleaned away with rose water while a layer of
moisturiser is applied.
Immediately
afterwards my skin feels and looks very soft and dewy but, in fairness,
it feels that way after any pampering facial treatment. The question
is, does it look and feel sufficiently good to justify the jaw-dropping
price and the ignominy of the whole thing?
On
balance, I think the answer is yes. I notice a definite improvement in
my dark circles and the sun damage marks on my forehead. I also have bad
scarring on my chest following an unfortunate incident with hot oil
and a chip pan some years ago and the marks there are also significantly
reduced.
Kehmi
advises me not to clean my face for at least 24 hours and explains
that, for best results, the facial should be repeated monthly. Little
does she know that, to get my money’s worth, it will be a lot longer
than 24 hours before my cheeks see any soap or a flannel — and with that
price tag it is unlikely I’ll be returning every four weeks.
Two
days later, I meet a friend for her birthday lunch and she tells me I
look glowing before miming a needle going into my forehead to suggest
I’ve had Botox. But I haven’t actually had any for more than a year.
Since
I reckon Botox takes around five years off my face and that my friend
thinks the nightingale droppings have done the same, that’s a result I
am more than pleased with.
The mask is removed and moisturiser is then applied
Of
course the bird poo facial isn’t that much cheaper than Botox but, as
Kehmi explains, the reason the price is so high is that the ingredients
are very hard to come by.
‘The
droppings come from one farm in Japan and are very difficult to import.
The birds are now protected and their droppings are no longer allowed
to be gathered.It’s only the existing supply that can be used and, once
it’s gone, that’s it — the nightingale facial will no longer be
available.’
She estimates they have about another year’s supply left.
It’s
been several days since my treatment and, although sceptical, I have to
say my skin has taken on a translucent quality that seems to have
lasted.
What
about my wrinkles? It hasn’t made any impact on the deeper lines, but
the fine ones around my eyes and lips aren’t nearly so noticeable.
At
£180 a pop, the nightingale facial will not become part of my regular
beauty regime but as a one-off treatment to brighten, lighten and
rejuvenate the skin — all I can say is, don’t poo-poo the idea.
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