Oil of Olay Total Effects Moisturiser

According to theory, the lines on one’s mature face represent the expression(s) most often used during one’s youth. If this is true, then I must assume that as a young woman, mr-zeeman spent a heck of a long time looking puzzled whilst laughing hysterically and squinting. (Unlike Judy Finnegan who apparently sucked a lot of lemons whilst watching too much television).

Facial creases are euphemistically referred to as “maps of experience” ...
...and consider them to be about as attractive as a running sore. They’re definitely top of the league in the “problems to be rectified” category, for women hell-bent on pretending to be younger than they actually are.

One of the ploys used by firms pushing anti-wrinkle products, is the scary concept of *Premature Ageing*. What is that, exactly? Is there some unwritten rule about how many wrinkles, and how much facial sagging, is allowed ... more

According to theory, the lines on one’s mature face represent the expression(s) most often used during one’s youth. If this is true, then I must assume that as a young woman, mr-zeeman spent a heck of a long time looking puzzled whilst laughing hysterically and squinting. (Unlike Judy Finnegan who apparently sucked a lot of lemons whilst watching too much television).

Facial creases are euphemistically referred to as “maps of experience” by me. Cosmetic firms, however, refer to them as “wrinkles” and consider them to be about as attractive as a running sore. They’re definitely top of the league in the “problems to be rectified” category, for women hell-bent on pretending to be younger than they actually are.

One of the ploys used by firms pushing anti-wrinkle products, is the scary concept of *Premature Ageing*. What is that, exactly? Is there some unwritten rule about how many wrinkles, and how much facial sagging, is allowed for each advancing year? If you’ve lived for 40 years then surely it’s reasonable to look as though you’ve been around for that length of time … isn’t it? There’s nothing premature about looking like a 40-year-old if that’s how old you are. But we’re persuaded that we ought not to look like 40-year-olds until we’re around 50. Otherwise we’re letting ourselves go.

We all know from T.V adverts that Aussie singing sensation, Natalie Imbruglia, is already panic-stricken because she’s 27. Which is ~ shock horror ~ just three years off 30. Well, OK, so she’s 27 … just how young does she expect to look? 16? 4? In a vain bid to pretend that her 30th birthday is a long, long way in the distant future, Natalie has been busy slathering L’Oreal grease onto her face. Well, unfortunately for Nat, it hasn’t worked ... she still looks 27 (despite the use of soft-focus T.V camera-work). Thus, L’Oreal has been televisually proved to be a far too lightweight contender in the anti-ageing battle. It can’t even counteract the signs of ageing in a person who hasn’t actually aged yet.

So … what’s currently happening in old mr-zeeman’s no-nonsense beauty regime? Well, as I lunge toward my 54th year (October 25th … cough, cough), like Natalie I want to lob at least 3 years off my features. I want to be able to pass myself off as 51 again. I’m assured by Olay that this feat is a distinct possibility. Not only that, but I can obliterate all evidence of entire decades of ageing. Furthermore, I don’t need paralysing Botox injections; and I don’t need my jowls to be surgically hoisted up over my ears so that they become cheeks again. No … all I need is enough gullibility, and cash, to buy “Olay Total Effects Intensive Restoration Treatment”.

I saunter into “Savers Ltd” (Formby) with the air of a 20-year-old and the gait of a 60-year-old (that’ll confuse Olay). This is the sort of shop where grossly obese customers wear state-of-the-art sports gear, plus heavy gold jewellery; and leave a trail of fag smoke and chip fat smells behind them. After rooting around amongst familiar-looking shampoos bearing mysterious Eastern European ‘directions for use’, and products that pose every known threat to the natural environment, I chance upon three empty boxes of the elixir of youth: Olay’s Intensive Restoration Treatment. Empty boxes? I point out this phenomenon to a nylon-overall-clad member of staff. She explains that “expensive items” such as this, are stored behind the till, and only the packaging remains on the shelf. Ah … quite correct … we all know that women of a certain age (ie: the ones who will be interested in this product) are wanton shoplifters. It’s our hormones. (Or is it our lack of hormones?) I adopt an attitude of profound self-control, and proffer £13.99p for a tiny 30ml tube of goo to place inside my empty box.

On the bus home I examine my purchase. The black and gold tube is housed in a matching black and gold box, covered in text. I am reliably informed by the front of the packaging that this is an “anti-ageing cream” intended for my “most ageing prone areas”. Oi oi oi ... that’ll be my droopy, cellulite-riddled buttocks then?

The side of the box heralds the important information that the goo comes with a guarantee: If it doesn’t work I can have my £13.99p back. Good. The unfamiliar list of ingredients leave me confounded, but apparently the important ones are “Pro-Retinol and VitaNiacin”, which sound like Italian football teams. They’re mentioned several times, and I guess they cost a lot more than mere “Aqua”. “Sodium Hydroxide” is a worrying thing to be rubbing into my chin, as it translates to the lay-person as “Caustic Soda” … the stuff one would use to clear blocked drains. Ah well, it should shift wrinkles then … and probably the rest of my face too. And I particularly don’t like the sound of “Polyfluorotetraethylene”. Will it attract vermin? Fortunately, the print is so tiny that most of the myriad of ingredients will remain a mystery for ever. (I used a magnifying glass to spot the ones mentioned here).

The opposite side of the box provides “directions”. I’m to apply the product to clean skin in my age-prone areas … apparently these are my: "eyes, mouth, forehead and cheeks". Eyes? What ... rub it into my eyes? And mouth? After that, I’m to follow with my “usual moisturiser” … which just happens to be home-made stuff called sebum. There is a warning that I might experience “a slight tingling sensation” … ah, that’ll be the caustic soda dissolving my flesh, then? The back of the package assures me that seven signs of ageing are going to be reversed. (Seven? Crumbs ...I’m in a worse state than I imagined.)

The miraculous product:

1. Visibly reduces lines and wrinkles.
2. Noticeably smoothes skin texture
3. Visibly evens skin tone
4. Transforms skin dullness to a radiant healthy looking glow
5. Reduces the appearance of pores
6. Diminishes the appearance of blotches and age spots
7. Hydrates dry skin.

It will begin working immediately, and provide visible improvements after four weeks. So, in less than a month I will resemble myself before I started to age … ie: I will be mistaken for a woman roughly around the age of Natalie Imbruglia … who is already starting to worry about looking *old*. Eh?

Oh for goodness sake … inside the box I find a complicated chart which I’m supposed to fill in, so that I can track my own time-travelling progress. Is anyone THAT self-obsessed? I’m sure that as I lumber from the kitchen one morning, with the head of a twenty-something girl atop the body of a fifty-something crone, the look of abject terror on the lodger’s face will be enough to convince me that the product has worked – without the need for complicated chart-filling.

I also find an explanation of the terms “Pro-Retinol” [vitamin A]; and “VitaNiacin” [vitamin B3, vitamin E, and pro-vitamin B5]. There’s also a note to say that the cream should be used continually to maintain the results. And some adverts for other Olay products.

I squirt a small amount of cream from the tube. It is to be used sparingly, once every day. It is white and odour-free; and within seconds of rubbing it in to my ageing features, it appears to have vanished. This is disappointing … physically, the product is totally unremarkable, in every aspect.

~~~~~~

Well … it is now 4 weeks later. Has anyone noticed that mr-zeeman looks pre-menopausal … or even (at a push) pre-pubescent? The chap next door said that he thought I was 38. He was the worse for drink at the time, and viewing me from a distance. Also, I think he may have been referring to my bust measurement. Absolutely no-one has noticed that I have reversed the aging process. Even the dogs still recognise me as their middle-aged owner. My Mum did say that I looked nice, last Friday … but apparently it was because I was wearing a new blouse. Hmmm …

I refer back to “the seven signs of aging”. Has the product:

1. Visibly reduced lines and wrinkles? Errr … no.

2. Noticeably smoothed skin texture? Errr … my skin wasn’t rough to begin with.

3. Visibly evened skin tone? Well … my face was an all-over uniform beige to begin with. It is now a darker shade of uniform beige, as I’ve been exposed to the English Summer in Sunny Southport.

4. Transformed skin dullness to a radiant healthy-looking glow? I don’t think my skin was dull at the beginning of this time-travelling experiment. Every day I spend two hours wandering about in the sandhills near the beach. As there is a permanent sea-breeze in this part of Blighty, the effect of this walk is like having one’s skin sand-papered by a DIY enthusiast. So I glow quite a lot.

5. Reduced the appearance of pores? Errr … well, I still seem to have pores. Is that a bad thing?

6. Diminished the appearance of blotches and age spots? Good grief … I didn’t have blotches or age-spots to begin with. Not on my face anyhow.

7. Hydrated dry skin? Well … thanks to the miracle of mr-zeeman’s sebum production, I only ever found dry skin on the soles of my feet.

This is disappointing … Externally I remain looking about 53. And I still appear to have spent my entire youth being puzzled whilst laughing hysterically and squinting.

Luckily, I saved my till receipt … so I’ll request a refund and spend it on a bottle of alcohol. Dahlings ... absolutely everyone looks younger through the bottom of a wine glass. Cheers!

*IMPORTANT DETAIL*
parker-munn informs me that not only are Olay products tested on animals, but one of the ingredients in this spurious ointment is a hormone extract, obtained from mares' urine ... which is collected from the horses 24 hours per day, in a particularly painful and ruthless manner. The captive mares are kept in a state of continuous pregnancy ... the resultant foals being removed from their mothers at birth; and subsequently slaughtered for pet food.

I have asked Olay for a refund of my £13.99p ... the money will be forwarded to an equine rescue centre.

P.S Many thanks to LouZ for help re: the Natalie Imbruglia info.

 

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