FACIAL
I had meat-eating enzymes on my face
Rebekah Kendal
Posted Tue, 13 Mar 2007

I have a few days off work and what better way to begin my short holiday than a nice relaxing facial? At least, this is what I thought, when my editor offered me a Danne Montague King enzyme facial.

I get up early, conquer the morning traffic and head down the intentionally quaint row of ‘houses’ that make up Cavendish Close, filled with keen anticipation. As I enter the International Skin Institute (a somewhat daunting name), I am greeted by the cheerful babble of what I think is a parrot. The courtyard is filled with birds and the prospect of an hour and a half in this relaxing environment is more than a little appealing.

After filling in the mandatory forms I am ushered into one of the treatment rooms by Corli — the friendly and immaculately groomed paramedical dermal technician. With its soft lighting, orange organza finishes and fluffy white towels, this room holds all the promise of a decadent treatment.

I slip out of my clothes, wrap the ‘boob-tube’ towel around myself and climb under the towels and blanket on the comfy ‘dentist’ chair, and with the ‘Mona Lisa’s Smile’ soundtrack playing quietly in the background, prepare to be pampered.

As she examines my skin under the microscope, Corli says, “This is not going to be one of those relaxing facials that you get at a beauty salon. This is a paramedical clinic, where we actually do something to your skin. It’s not all about pampering.” Oh dear.

I notice that I am suddenly clenching my toes and hands and that the keen anticipation has now become nervous anticipation. Perhaps this is not such a good idea after all – oh well, not much that I can do about it now, short of running out of the clinic in all my towelled wonder.

The facial gets off to a fairly standard start — cleansing, steaming and squeezing — then Corli whips out some ice to cool down then inflammation. The switches from hot to cold are startling, but not particularly unpleasant and the ice tickles a bit. This is followed by a detox. The cream used in the detox is odourless, but it begins to smell (rather bad in fact) as the toxin come out of your skin. So far, so good.

Next up, the ‘meat-eating enzyme’. The what? And this is the point where most sensible people would throw off the towels and run, but being the intrepid journalist that I am (and let’s face it, a little daft), I decide to brave the cannibalistic enzyme. And it’s not that bad.

Basically, the enzyme, which (like all Danne products) is a plant extract, eats away at your dead skin cells, thus ensuring regeneration of the skin cells. Corli assures me that this has anti-ageing benefits, but I am more concerned with the positive effects it will have on mildly damaged skin. Another advantage is that the ‘new’ skin is more receptive to any products you put on your skin, which means that that anti-ageing/ bleaching/moisturising cream that you smear all over your face, will actually have some effect.

Corli applies the enzyme and then covers my face in cling wrap and hot wet towels. Ah, this would be why they ask the question about claustrophobia in the pre-treatment questionnaire. I lie like this for about five minutes and feel nothing more than a slight tingling sensation. Not so bad after all really.

The towels come off and Corli makes approving noises. “This is fantastic, you can really see the striations on your neck and chest. This means that it is working well. Don’t worry, it is just the toxins and they will disappear in a couple of hours.”

She holds a mirror in front of me and I can see the striations — my neck and chest are covered in what looks like a bright red spider’s web. Yikes! I take her word for it and lie back down.

As she paints the ‘rebuilding’ mask onto my face, Corli explains that the mask will become tighter and tighter until I can’t move any muscles — not even to talk. To take my mind off this mini-facelift, which is scheduled to last 40 minutes, Corli organises a foot and calf massage for me.

Fabulous. I hardly notice the mask tightening and the massage is over all too quickly. The mask is steamed and sprayed off and then Corli applies a host of serums to my face — melanoplex drops, vitamin c and betagel (which gives the skin a boost). More cling wrap, more hot towels and I’m ready to face the world. Or to be more specific, the shopping centre.

With glowing face and spider web chest, I head for the airport and my holiday in Durban. That wasn’t so bad really. Yet. I arrive in Durban with a stinging face the colour of a ripe tomato. Ah, this must be the ‘wind stung’ sensation Corli mentioned. After a day, the redness subsides, but for the next couple of days my face is very sensitive as my skin flakes off — that darn ‘meat-eating enzyme’!

But, as Corli predicted, five days later my skin feels soft and fabulous. Somehow, that ‘meat-eating enzyme’ has rid my skin of rough areas and it has an overall smoothness, which I haven’t experienced as a result of normal ‘pampering’ facials. With the dead skin cells gone, my skin also has a glowing luminescence which wasn’t there before. And no, I’m not trying overly hard to find the benefits.

So would I recommend it? Yes, but only if you can afford four days of hibernation and are not too much of a wimp.