The worst year of my life in the fashion media was spent as a beauty editor for a new website. Time and again, I had to sit at various cosmetic brand presentations and listen to an unbelievable amount of crazy.
Our cream was made with spring water from Antigua. With bee pollen from Belize. With taro root. With freakin' caviar. With human hair, cropped from the locks of actual gingers in Ireland (OK, the last one is a lie, but wait a couple of years . . . ).
A lot has been said over the last few years about the bat-shit bonkerness of the face cream industry's premise, and how it coveys ageism and the hatred of women by women. Does that tonic water really contain "calming" rose water and "refreshing" cucumber drops? Does that eye cream really pack a hefty punch of Retinol C . . . whatever the hell that is?
Sadly, bogus pitches are becoming so commonplace that they rarely raise an eyebrow anymore. But then, every once in a while, something so outrageously silly comes along, it cracks the surface of indifference.
Brace yourselves, folks, because here comes . . . outer space cream.
That's right: A company called 111Skin, a favorite among the wives of Sheikhs and royals, has crafted a "celestial" cream priced at a cool $1,000. The aptly named Celestial Black Diamond Cream supposedly contains black diamond powder from an actual space meteorite that hit the ground somewhere around a South American country you've never been to.
The company, headed by Dr. Yannis Alexandrides, a Greek-born plastic surgeon who was trained in the U.S. and now works in London, is keen on promoting his creams as magic potions that have been tested in "extreme conditions." And wait, there's more! According to the company's website:
"Using groundbreaking research, Black Diamond micro spheres infuse the deepest layers of the skin with NAC Y2™, Arbutin and Hyaluronic Acid to brighten, plump and regenerate the skin. Celestial Black Diamond Cream is a restorative and brightening cream that improves the skin’s elasticity and firmness."
Confused? Scared? We sure are.
Several websites have already mocked the brand's usage of "space" in its branding, putting a picture of Sandra Bullock's Gravity character next to the unassuming jar. But we're mainly sad about the whole thing (OK, and a little amused). Have we really reached the point where women are willing to drop a thousand bucks on goddamn space cream to get rid of their woeful wrinkles? Is aging really so bad that we need an intervention from outer space?
Eight years ago, Nip/Tuck included a plot line wherein female characters started producing sperm-based creams. It was supposed to be satire. Yet somehow, year by year, it feels a little less funny.