As a 38-year-old journalist who devotes a good chunk of her time to writing about beauty, it might seem odd that I’m yet to have any ‘work’ done, despite being regularly offered it as part of my job.
There are many reasons for my resistance to injectables and fillers. But right up there is the fact that I don’t want to do anything to my face that’ll make me feel less... me. This is not because I think myself a vision of beauty, but primarily because I am finicky about details, and would be cross if anything looked off or, worse, stuffed. Equally, I am rather fond of seeing the signs of ageing. I find wrinkles charming. I like the face, neck and limbs to match in terms of their reflection of time.
That said, I am also a woman who wishes to age like a Scandi sage in a knitwear advert — all wrinkles and serenity, rather than having ravages of city life played out on my face. I love to look rested, and often get back from a holiday and wish that my skin could remain as unfurrowed for the next eleven months and two weeks, before I’m due to recline on the beach once more.
I was talking about this pickle at the launch of the Montrose, a sumptuous Belgravia clinic specialising in dermatology and aesthetics, where each of the practitioners works within the NHS and is a specialist. Then consultant plastic and reconstructive surgeon (and co-founder of the Montrose) Dr Georgina Williams said something which piqued my interest: "it sounds like the Morpheus8 would be a treatment you’d love — it effectively tightens and lifts without changing the essential character of the face.”
She wasn’t the first to tell me the Morpheus8 was worth sitting up and paying attention to: I’ve been hearing in beauty and aesthetics circles for well over a year now about its remarkable ability to render contours which have softened, tight once more, and to generally give skin a collagen and elastin boost — meaning that everything behaves better.
I’ve been hearing in beauty circles for well over a year now about its remarkable ability to render contours which have softened, tight once more.
It doesn't have this effect by injecting anything into the skin, but by triggering the skin’s own healing mechanisms via many little wounds, courtesy of gold-coated micro-needles, which pierce the skin along with giving it a whammy of radio frequency energy. This heats the tissue and thereby tightens. It can be used on the face and body, so is just as good at lifting knees, as it is wobbly chins.
Famously, Judy Murray has achieved quite astonishing results using it, and other fans purportedly include Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian.
I booked in, partly out of curiosity, and partly because I felt completely safe in the hands of Georgina, who administers this sort of aesthetic treatment as a “hobby” on the side of performing complex reconstructive surgery in hospitals. With my encouragement, she showed me a tongue she had fixed for a woman needing most of hers out, which made me feel reassured that I was in capable hands.
The process itself at the Montrose is very thorough indeed. First, you have a proper consultation, covering everything from medical history to aesthetic preferences. Next, a very realistic discussion about potential results (which of course vary from person to person) and risks (including who to contact and what to do should anything be of concern — every responsible clinic ought to do this, by the way). After that, photos from all angles for my ‘before’ were taken.
Once I’d consented to the treatment, my face was cleansed, a numbing jelly was applied, and I was left to wait with supervision for half an hour lest I forgot my skin was wearing a potent medical gel and rubbed my eyes. Then came the needles. I wish I could say the pain was minimal, but to me (admittedly a wimp), I found each pierce quite something, and my body writhed in the chair like a snake being administered electric shocks.
This went on for over forty minutes, and by the end of it I was sweating rivers, and my skin was red and, in some areas, pinpricked with blood. Once the ordeal of being stamped was over, my evening plans were promptly cancelled, and I went home to let my red skin - and ruffled nerves - recover.
The recovery has taken over ten days for me. For some, it is a matter of days, but I still have little tiny dots on my skin at this stage — though the overall texture has come down and the redness gone.
I can already see why people revere the Morpheus8: after a single pass (three or more sessions are recommended as the ideal number), my skin is lifted and my jawline is more pronounced. I am also a fan of the Morpheus8 for its longevity — you don’t need top up sessions because once it’s done its thing, your skin will resume the ageing process and the results only wear off naturally over time.
The pros are clear, but here are my cons: it’s expensive (you’re looking at £550 upwards per session), it creates trauma on the skin, so must be administered by someone with a lot of experience and not overused. Plus, in my opinion, it's rather painful.
On balance, I’d recommend this treatment to achieve specific goals, or if you’re feeling generally very droopy — but do bear in mind that everything, even something as thorough as the Morpheus8, has its limitations, so make sure that the cost is worth that shift for you. In my case, I’d have it again to target areas like my chin and anything that gravity had really snatched at, but might skip it for a ‘general’ overhaul.
