“Many Parisian ladies….bind their faces with thin slices of raw beef. It may not be pleasant to contemplate, but it prevents and removes wrinkles as nothing else will.” Amy Ayer, Facts For Ladies (1908)
Since we’re on a French and food kick, I thought I’d give this one a try, because it’s been awhile since I’ve done a really challenging, possibly disgusting stunt. I used pub-style shaved steak, thinking it would be easier to mold into a mask. It wasn’t, because it’s meat and it’s not supposed to go on your face.
But Ian did a lovely job of squishing and layering it onto the contours of my skin, it’s cold, clammy greasiness filling up every pore. I immediately became an all-you-can-eat buffet for my cat, Bosco, and immediately regretted my choice. When you begin to believe that seeing R.I.P.D. was the BEST decision you made all evening, there’s a problem. Honestly, I thought it would be a nice way to relax.
Unlike a clay masque, I wouldn’t be able to sit up and read or relax in a tub. I would have no choice but to lay on my back, breathe deep and listen to some MST3K (episode choice: It Lives By Night) a luxury I don’t get very often. But since I couldn’t speak (for fear of it falling off my chin and down my shirt) I ended up feeling very isolated and sad.
I lasted all of about 20 minutes with it on and then it started to get warm and gross and flake off down my neck. I DID feel my skin tightening, maybe, but the creepy meat smell and the fear of salmonella was NOT worth it. We have lovely clay masks now, or oatmeal, or I can just age and accept my wrinkles with Ponds heavy cream and grace, the way all three of my grandmothers have.
And all that grease must have gone into my pores, because I woke up with a big mystery mound forming on my chin, as well as some clogged spots and blotches on my cheeks. THANKS FRANCE.