10 CHICAGO READER | NOVEMBER 4, 2005 | SECTION ONE

Chicago Antisocial

By Liz Armstrong

A nyone who tells you shecan permanently shrinkyour pores is a big fat liar.

I know because plastic surgeonNorman Leaf and registerednurse Rand Rusher told me so,and they’ve carved up enoughcelebrity faces to have a cluewhat they’re talking about.

I met them last week at amedia preview of the new loca-tion of C.O. Bigelow, a New York-based beauty-products store, inWater Tower Place. The compa-ny began as an old-fashionedGreenwich Village apothecary167 years ago but was bought in2003 by Limited Brands, whichalso owns Bath & Body Works,Victoria’s Secret, Express, andthe Limited. The first locationstill has a pharmacy and a room-ful of surgical supplies, but itsoutposts are shadows of the orig-inal, carrying nothing but luxebeauty products yet callingthemselves apothecaries.

A supercute blond publicistnamed Kate ran me around the

stainless-steel prongs. When youroll it over your face, the prongsperforate your skin, supposedlymaking any product (preferablyLeaf and Rusher’s special serum)more potent because more of itgets to sink in, and deeper. DIYskin perforation is pretty creepyif you think about it too hard,but Leaf and Rusher gave meone and I’m using it and I lookradiant, so who am I to judge?

Dr. Leaf ’s face looked blurry,like he’d made a Silly Puttytransfer of himself, stretched itout, and wrapped it around hisskull. Nurse Rusher—decked outin forest green scrubs—had lipslike two plump, delicious hotdogs, gorgeous inquisitive eyes,and a few pleats of skin near hisears. “Maybe some light therapywould temporarily help shrinkpores,” Rusher said, but thosesebum-plugged craters are, sadly,hereditary.

The rep from the skin-care lineMurad concurred. “The onlything you can do is keep the

pores clean,” she said. Sheinformed me that a pimple and asunburn are almost the samething: both are angry inflamma-tions, and they’re treated basical-ly the same way. Who knew?

I was also told about DanielleRoches, a World War II doctorwho is supposed to have inventeda cream to help burn victimsregrow singed brows and lashes.Now the technology is availableto the masses thanks to a compa-ny called Talika, which alsomakes a fuzzy mascara wand thatattaches hairlike rayon fibers toyour lashes and a gel infused withthose fibers so you can paint oneyebrows. The mascara made melook like Tammy Faye BakkerMessner, but when I accidentallywashed the gel sample off myhand I begged the rep to paint itback on—I loved walking aroundthe fancy store with a hairy paw.

“Now watch this,” said the repfrom Kevyn Aucoin, the linestarted by the late makeup artist.“This is sick and out of control.”

Tightly holding my jaw with onehand—a move so saturated withconfidence that it always makesme feel safe—he dabbed sparklywhite highlighter on my face.One dot in the corner of each eye,one dot in the divot above my lip(“Just like Marilyn Monroe usedto do,” he said), and the mirrorintroduced me to a brighter,poutier version of myself.

Later, the Nars rep made meup with their new eye shadowduo, a combination of shimmerybrick red and lilac, smudgedsome black on top of that, andcapped it all off with a glitteryolive brown shadow calledNightlife. “Gorgeous,” she said. Ilooked like a zombie.

I spent four hours sniffing fra-grances and learning whichserums—it’s all about serumsnow—are supposed to do whatand why. I tested the gamut,from supergirlie shit thatsmelled so sweet it hurt mystomach to thick vegan organicsludge that looked like the left-overs from brewing beer. Ilearned about an all-naturalhair- and skin-care line based onpropolis, a nutrient-rich naturalantiseptic that bees line theirhives with. I gobbled up knowl-edge about lip plumpers andexfoliators, face volumizers, fine-line erasers, skin brighteners,glossing creams, amino acidchains, and cuticle sealants till Iwas dizzy. I think I was the lastmedia person to leave. If thestore were a bar, the lightswould’ve been on, the music off,and the bartender yelling at meto get the hell out of there.

C.O. Bigelow supposedlyencourages sampling—at leastthey did at the preview, thoughthey were germ freaks about it,using tiny plastic spatulas to dis-pense pinhead-size drops ofcream onto the back of my hand,never the palm. But I went totheir outpost in Schaumburg atWoodfield Mall last Thursday,the day it opened to the generalpublic, and I got the impressionthey really didn’t want me touch-ing their pretty things. Theemployees were sweet and help-ful, though a few seemed quitebewildered by all the productsaround them. But they weren’tkeen on handouts, and they werewatching me like they thought Imight steal something.

I’m usually a hippie when itcomes to beauty products—if it’smade from jojoba and cloveextract, I’ll take it. But now Idon’t know. This $100 Juvenaeye serum I’ve been using for thepast week, made with somethingcalled Skin Nova Technology,might seem like a rip-off—and itis—but it works, dammit. Threedays after I started using it I wasat a party and some 19-year-oldsasked me what school I go to.When I told them I’m 28 theyseemed almost grossed out.“Wow,” one of them said. “I thinkwhat makes you look so young isyour eyes.” When my free sampleruns out I might actually have topony up for more. v

store all day, introducing me tothe representatives of dozens ofunguent hawkers. I asked theMolton Brown rep if he had any-thing for a hangover, and hehanded me a sample of black-pepper body wash—one of thecompany’s top sellers despite itsspicy fragrance, which I foundunpleasant. I could hardlybelieve it: I was dressed, blow-dried, and having conversationsat 11:30 AM—and enjoying it.

When I said I was hungry theeffervescent Kate brought me asleek ceramic platter coveredwith little finger foods, garnishedwith a fresh-picked orchid. Yes,they were schmoozing me. Butsomehow it felt classy—nice andunnecessarily generous, lackingthe whiff of desperation thatcomes off a lot of start-ups.

Leaf and Rusher recently start-ed selling a beauty tool called theDermaRoller, a sort of GardenWeasel for your face. At the endof a plastic wand there’s a littlespool speckled with hair-thin

Clockwise from top left: Dr. Leaf and Nurse Rusher (in green), Kevyn Aucoin makeup, the house Apothecary Rose line, and Talika’s eyebrow improvement products at C.O. Bigelow

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antisocial@chicagoreader.com

The Product Whore of BabylonDrunk on youth serums, glossing creams, and face volumizers. Yes, face volumizers.

CHICAGO READER | NOVEMBER 4, 2005 | SECTION ONE 11