Skincare

Complexion-wise, my teenage years were clear sailing:  good skin care habits, practiced since an early age, meant that I breezed past the plague of acne angst that affected so many of my peers.  You can imagine my surprise, then, when I became plagued with a palette of problems well beyond my control in my 20s.  Cystic breakouts, blackheads and discoloration replaced the smooth surface I had previously enjoyed – and appeared seemingly out of nowhere.  Like many adult women, acne, for me, is a problem that exists beyond puberty.  Shifts in hormones, lifestyle and age can all play a hand in this disruption; being someone who likes to tackle the problem at the roots and tired of hiding behind the cloak of concealer, I was quick to jump into my dermatologist’s chair for a diagnosis of this dilemma.

And saddened, oh TVC readers, I was, to learn that his best suggestion was to “keep my hands off my face” and “try Differin.”  Differin, if you’re wondering, is a retinoid-based product (similar to Retin-A) that costs $100 a month – with health insurance (really good health insurance, at that) – because it’s considered a “cosmetic” treatment (as opposed to my previous acne prescription, a topical antibiotic, which ran me $15 a year).  I gave it serious consideration – until the samples the doctor himself had given me to try caused my skin to erupt into a venerable Mount Vesuvius of pimples.

Since I don’t subscribe to the school of, “It’s got to get worse before it gets better,” and because I enjoy being a guinea pig for the sake of beauty, I dug deeper and tested a few other alternative treatment products worth sharing with The Vogue City.

iQ Derma Clear Skin Remedy System ($135 at iqderma.com)

“Ah,” I thought to myself.  “Another 3-step system that promises to cure every skin woe in the book.”  Having been warned of the dangers of everyone’s favorite mail order 3-step system – Proactiv – that my skin would become acclimated to such products and then go haywire if I stopped, I was wary to even test the waters.  Since I had nothing to lose but a couple of zits on my chin, I figured it was worth a shot.

Step 1, the gel cleanser, left a funky film behind on my skin that required a second washing by my stand-by Origins face wash.  Step 2, a salicylic acid treatment, did wonders for a crop of pesky whiteheads along my jawline and unlike its drugstore counterparts, didn’t dry out my skin.  It also helped fade some redness on my cheeks – bonus.  Step 3, a moisturizer, kept my skin moist, but not oily – but also contained more chemicals, compounds and additives than a transmission flush at Jiffy Lube.

The verdict?  I’ll stick with the salicylic treatment for now, used in between nights when I apply the prescription antibiotic.  Luckily, you can buy each product individually for far less than the cost of the full monty.

The ANSR Acne Starter Kit ($185 at ansr.com)

Shiver me lightbeams!  An at-home LED device, similar to the same one my dermatologist offers in his office at $150 a treatment, for under $200?  I was intrigued.  And so were my neighbors, I’m sure, when bright beams of blue (bacteria-destroying) and red (collagen-building) light shot across my window late at night.  The device is small, about the size of a deck of cards, and happily hums as you navigate the product around your face while in laser bliss.

I skipped the topical products and went straight for the LED, or light-emitting diode.  I knew I was to expect results “in about 2 months,” but I saw mild changes the very next day.  Deeply embedded nodules that were in my right cheek softened; mild scarring leftover from a bad breakout six months ago appeared lighter.  Within a week, my skin was softer, smoother, and more evenly toned.  I’m a cynic when it comes to this stuff, but I was honestly shocked, happily surprised and ready to call my mother to tell her I had met the love of my life.  Unfortunately, LED-human marriages aren’t legalized yet, so I’ll stick to using the ANSR once or twice a week for now.

The Clear Skin Prescription by Dr. Nicholas Perricone ($15.95 at Borders)

The “prescription” behind this treatment – which is a book – is really just common sense.  Eat well; drink a ton of water; incorporate yoga and exercise into your routine; reduce stress and get some sleep – I feel like my mother could have written this book in her sleep.  He (Dr. Perricone) does hit the nail on the head by presenting the idea of an anti-inflammatory diet, rich in omegas, antioxidants and other good-for-you vitamins and minerals.  Basically, a lot of salmon, berries and greens, and not so much McDonald’s.  My grocery bill jumped a bit – I don’t usually buy salmon or strawberries on a weekly basis – but that, combined with the cost of the book, cost less than the other two treatments I tried.  Plus, these are good habits that one can incorporate into her lifestyle for as long as she likes – no refilling or recharging required.

Above all, I learned that there is no magic wand or universal product that works for every single person.  Our skin, just like our personalities, is unique, and should be treated as such.  Treat it well, and you can rest assure that the only diva accessory you have to worry about are some killer stilettos – not a crop of acne on your forehead.

When the temperature heats up, skin kicks into overdrive, spewing out more technical problems than a 1989 Audi.  A perfectly temperate complexion may suddenly transform into a hot mess of oil spills, dry patches and irritation, leaving one to wonder if she needs to call her dermatologist or a mechanic for a fix.  While summer is welcome with open arms, problem skin is not.  A good face mask is like one-stop shopping for the skin, offering temporary relief from the throes of humidity and, with continued year-round use, the promise of more even skin tone, a subtle glow, and well-behaved pores.  I tested a few for the sake of The Vogue City readers’ inquiring minds (and even included a homemade favorite that costs pennies – literally) and budgets. 

Clay masks reign supreme in sopping up T-zone oil, and are goof-proof:  apply, let it dry, and wipe clean.  I like Best Bath Store’s Dead Sea mud mask for $19.95.  Its rich formula is chock full of minerals, nutrients and has a grainy, thick texture that feels glorious when swiped on the cheeks, chin and nose.  I use it about once a week, usually when I’m busy stalking, er, browsing, Facebook and sipping a cup of green tea.  Do-it-yourself relaxation, indeed. 

If your forehead is dryer than the Sahara and your chin might spontaneously combust from dead flakes, I recommend the Body Shop’s 3-in-1 Honey & Oat scrub mask for $16.50.  While my genetics have me destined for a lifetime of blotting paper and hand-held fans, I have friends with dry, sensitive skin who swear by this eco-friendly power product.  The option to apply twice a week is there – if your skin is sensitive, start with a once-a-week application and work your way up.  Kind of like the starter boyfriend you have mixed feelings about:  easy does it.

Now, if your skin is neither here nor there and is lost in the transit of being labeled (and what’s in a label, really?), look no further than your pantry for a cure.  Honey, that delicious sticky sap that sends my aforementioned tea into a tailspin, can be applied as is to dry skin for a tasty – and cheap – mask.  Honey is naturally moisturizing, but also zaps oil and provides a hit of natural antioxidants to calm even the sassiest skin.  Just be careful to wash, not lick, it off after about 10 minutes or so.

Masks:  summertime skin saviors or time sapping treatments better left for the birds?

-Karyn Polewaczyk

Browsing through this weeks random free and almost free publications, I noticed a variety of Mother’s Day spa specials. Doggie moms are moms too, right? And since my pooch don’t got no daddy, I treated myself to an early Mother’s Day present and booked a day of services Friday.

For $89 plus tip, I was promised a papaya mango body polish, a 30 minute massage and a mani/pedi. When I arrived at the spa, I was immediately turned off by the late 70’s style chairs they have at the manicure stands. My brain reminded my mind not to judge a book by the cover, and I moved swiftly past said chairs to check in. The staff were courteous and contained only a little of the New York edge I usually encounter at these spa special joints. I was offered a choice between a Deep Tissue, Swedish or Craniosacral Massage, which I thought sounded like only a doctor should perform. I chose door #1, then took my robed and slippers to change.

The body scrub was okay. This may sound petty, but I get weirded out when I don’t know the brand of products used. I’m fine going to Elizabeth Arden, Bliss or Aveda, but feel skeevy when random “papaya” lotion is lathered on my naked body. The woman scrubbed me all right. She damn near scrubbed this doggie mama raw; but afterward, I felt five pounds lighter and my skin soft like a baby’s. My deep tissue massage made me scream in pain. I request three times not sooooo deep, and eventually she lightened up. Word of warning: if you can’t take the heat, don’t go in the Deep Tissue Massage’s kitchen. Choose #2 or #3.

The mani/pedi concluded my treatment and was pretty standard with a little more scrubbing and massaging on my now nothing-but-bone calves. It was the same caliber you would get at a Bloomie’s but with uglier chairs. My overall rating for this service is a low B. I would probably give it a C if it weren’t so cheap and might even give it a low A if I knew the products used.

Is it worth it? If you need smoother skin and a massage, yes. But like everything these days, it depends on you budget. Should you give a Vada Spa for a gift for your mother? Probably not. But it is totally fine to get a friend or your brother’s wife. No, really.

Vada Spa 387 6th Avenue between Greenwich and Waverly Open 9a.m. to 10p.m. 7 days a week. 212-206-1572

Perhaps it’s my Type-A personality, or perhaps I’ve seen one Oompa Loompa-esque lady too many emerge from a Mystic Tan session, but I have little tolerance for underperforming self tanners. The tint must be natural; the scent must be non-chemical; and the ability to prolong must exceed the expiration date of my bottle of soy milk.

If cream rises to the top, then so must a hazy copper that’s mimicked only by a timeshare on an island. St. Tropez self tanner, $33 at Sephora, is hands down the best self tanner I’ve used, period. Venerable strangers approach me in the street after just one application to ask if I just came back from vacationing in Mustique with Diddy. Okay, so they don’t ask me that, but I do get a lot of compliments on how ‘healthy’ I look. The key with Saint Tropez is patience. You’ll need a pair of plastic hospital gloves (avoid latex if you can), a ratty towel, and a good two hours for thorough application and sufficient drying time. Available in a foam (my favorite), spray, mist, gel or liquid pump, Saint Tropez is not for the beginner. I repeat, not for the beginner. While the result is second to none, a rushed, novice application will prove fatal to your social life.

Origins The Great Pretender, $18 at department stores, is, like our sunny own Miss California, first runner up. The coverage is creamy and effortless and leaves behind a cool, minty scent; its major drawback is the subtle shimmer built into the formula. Loyal TVC readers will know that I’m not a fan of shimmer or sparkle in body products, unless it’s on a 5-carat Harry Winston ring. The good news is that any remnants of a life lived on the Yellow Brick Road will wash off in the shower and leave behind a Jamaican-me crazy hue. The bad news is that it won’t work if you’re aiming to be out and about within an hour post-application. While Origins hits a home run with this product overall, avoid using it on your face. No one likes a disco ball head.

L’Oreal Sublime Glow moisturizing mist, $9, is a build-a-tan product that takes the cake for gradual tanners and self tan novices alike. I find that one application every three days is enough; applying a self tanner every day (as the bottle recommends) will leave people wonder if you’ve been plugged into an electric outlet. Unlike the St. Tropez and Origins tanners, this spray goes on clear. Bonus: it won’t rub off on clothes. Yikes: since you won’t be able to see it until the magic self tanning chemicals do their job, generally about an hour to two after application, any posthumous mistakes will be hard to fix.

One of the biggest complaints I hear of any self tanner are the not-so-sexy Orangina spirit fingers that are the unfortunate by-product of going sunless. Using a pair of plastic (not latex) hospital gloves will do the trick, as well as wiping hands clean with a wedge of fresh lemon. If you’ve got the bucks to spare, I highly recommend the St. Tropez self tan remover, $16, a miracle in a pump which also exfoliates hands to a glove-soft touch.

Like Michael Jackson once sang, ‘Don’t stop ’til you get enough’ – but do wear your sunscreen.

-Karyn Polewaczyk