MORE THAN JUST A NUMBER

Crone’s back!  Older and wiser – or so she’d like you to believe. Apropos which, two features leapt out at her from the Daily Wail this week. The first, a curious admission by author Wendy Leigh that she has routinely lied about her age since she was 30.  Odd, since Wikipedia lists her as 64 for all to see.  Nevertheless, not only does she shave a few years off, but adds a couple on, depending on who she aims to impress. Giving varying accounts of her birthdate – anything from 40 to 75 -  ‘to suit the occasion and the vanity of the man’ comes in handy, she believes. Besides, ‘I truly believe it’s a woman’s prerogative to fib,’ she contends. ‘Once a person knows your age, they size you up, put you in a box and expect certain things of you – they are shocked if you don’t live up to their expectations.’ 

Guess my blurry age - 40, 64, 75? 

The second perspective Crone read couldn’t be more opposite. Ray Connolly 74, finds that, after a lifetime of trying to impress or seduce, getting old is liberating because you can finally be yourself. ‘I was like everybody else, trying to look right and sound right and fit in,’ Ray says of his younger self. Now older, ‘you are who you are. And happy, or at least reconciled, with yourself, you just don’t care what people think about you anymore. You can be as eccentric as you want to be.’

And there he is (or someone like him) gleefully frolicking out into the waves, endearingly bare bottom all a-waddle…

Cheeky!

This puts Crone in mind of a personal epiphany, 25 years ago.  Christian Dior had invited a bevy of beauty editors to Biarritz to celebrate the launch of their blockbuster scent, Dune. There we were, self-consciously posing on our Dune-themed loungers among the (ahem!) dunes, checking each other out from behind our Dior sunnies and artfully arranging our limbs to hide the cellulite. Crone left this choreographed bronzathon for a wander up the beach – and into a group of superannuated naturists.  There they were, tits and bits to the wind, mahogany bodies creased and seasoned by sun and surf. Everything was heading south and no-one gave a flying zut alors! It all looked so blissfully natural that, pausing only to confirm she was out of range of colleagues - Crone shed her swimsuit and joined them.  That was her first skinny dip – and it felt utterly liberating.

So two points here.  Firstly, if age brings confidence, why not exploit its perks?  Far from dodging the stereotyping as Wendy Leigh believes, lying about our age smacks of the tyranny of approval seeking -  a far cry from Ray’s liberation. Instead of getting hung up about it, let it all hang out, is the view of Crone, 64 – same as Wendy - since you ask. My second point is more prosaic. Even nudists need to wear something – and that something is a bloody good sunscreen. No point in any of us being more wrinkly than we have to. Perhaps if my marvellous old French role models had slapped on enough prophylactic such as Vichy Ideal Soleil Body Oil, £16.50 (had it been invented then) their bronzed bods would have been less leather handbag, more baby's bottom. If age is just a number, 50 is the one Crone's sticking to now.  That’s SPF 50…….    

 Ideal number...

Piaggi power

Sticking by her style: Anna Piaggi by David Bailey, AnOther Magazine, 2003

Crone is saddened by the news that Anna Piaggi died yesterday in Milan aged 81.  An influential fashion journalist, contributor to Vogue Italia  and sometime muse to Karl Lagerfeld no less, Piaggi was a rare thing indeed. Crone will never forget her first sighting, 30 years ago at the Paris collections (don’t ask me which benighted runway I was queuing for!) when Piaggi - a mere 50-something but already a legend aura’d by an army flashbulbs  - minced daintily past on the arm of her husband.  A diminutive figure, she nevertheless loomed large - a marvellously exotic burst of colour against the monotonously black, self-conscious fash pack.  What a relief, Crone thought, to see a flagrantly free spirit with the balls to suit herself.

Did she ever ask herself if her bum looked big or her thighs too chunky?  Did she ever torture herself with the notion that at her age, she might look a tad daft got up like that? Clearly not. Piaggi’s style was not contrived to make her look younger, sexier, taller or thinner, yet she evidently relished its sensuality. Her  liberated clash of colour and texture was strangely, thrillingly ageless.

Crone is reminded at this juncture of the much-quoted lines ‘When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple with a red hat which doesn’t go and doesn’t suit me ….’   by poet Jenny Joseph (a disappointingly tetchy, tweedy creature who reputedly resents that her most famous poem, ‘Warning’ has eclipsed her more worthy oeuvres). As one of the nation’s best-loved odes, it strikes a chord for suggesting that one of the privileges of age is the license to behave battily. But what made Piaggi so unique was that she lived her whole life in colour and made discord a performance art. ‘I think it’s best not to be too co-ordinated,’ she once said. ‘Simplicity and excess live very well together.’

Piaggi’s passion for anti-fashion certainly burned bright. There’s this story about her involving fire extinguishers, when a fantastically feathered Stephen Jones hat she wore to Paloma Picasso’s wedding caught fire as she made her entrance, lit by candelabras. Did she literally belong to a dying breed?  Crone’s thinking of that other fabulous eccentric this time in Philip Treacey hats - British Vogue contributor Isabella Blow, who died in 2007.  Good thing we still have Zandra Rhodes and Vivienne Westwood - now 71 and 70 respectively - to remind us that individuality and spontaneity are the best looks in the style book.  Who, Crone wonders, will succeed them?

Mad hatter: 'It's best not to be too co-ordinated....'

Moi moi, Diorling...

Chypres and cheerful - Dior's latest scent sensations 

Crone is beside herself with joy.  Not one, but three cheeky chypres landed on her desk recently - and she can’t decide which she loves most.  All are from Christian Dior, the fashion house which celebrates it’s 65^th this month and in Crone’s opinion is the One To Watch for scents right now. For they’ve pulled off that everso tricky coup - launching heritage-style scents with both a retro vibe and exciting on-trend credentials.

 Witness the rebirth of Miss Dior, the Couture house’s first fragrance launched in 1947. At the time, the trend was for obviously pretty, powdery perfumes.  Well, there’d been a war on, and girls were understandably into being girly for their guys. So was this woody, mossy and tantalisingly green newcomer the first real feminist scent? The almost knicker-wrenchingly hormonal combo of rose, patchouli and oakmoss have earned chypres (after Cyprus, home of oakmoss) the reputation of sorting the women from the girls.  Miss D certainly defined a new and sophisticated era of chic - or at least that’s what Crone felt when she first caught up with it at the start of the stroppy ‘70s. Out went the Aqua Manda (anyone else remember those Radio Caroline ads?  And who was Christopher Collins?) In came the saucy dab between the braless cleavage under the brown silk Biba blouse. God, but Crone felt so up herself with elegant aloofness…

 So crackling the cellophane around her brand new bottle of Miss Dior Eau de Toilette Originale felt like a reunion long overdue. Now let’s be realistic. Good old scents like Miss Dior have undergone various edits along the way as key ingredients either become too costly, unethical or unsustainable. The chypre family have recently fallen foul of the infamous ‘IFRA list ‘ - the ever-burgeoning number of ingredients which scent watchdog, the International Fragrance Association consider should be limited or banned.  Apparently oak moss - the defining soul of chypres -  is an allergen, so must be restricted lest someone in Seattle sneezes. (If they start buggering around with patchouli Crone will be forced to book the one-way Swiss ticket….) So right, the current Miss Dior doesn’t have quite the bite (more lemon, less green galbanum too) as the version she remembers, but under the auspices of talented Dior perfumer François Demachy, the old girl still has some of her own teeth.

 Demachy has also worked minor miracles with new Miss Dior Eau Fraiche - a healthy dose of patchouli gives it welly without overwhelming its bergamot freshness, while the hint of gardenia in the background gives it polish. spritz? But star of the trio for Crone is the divine Diorling. First launched in 1962, it’s incisively green, wickedly leathery and drenched in patchouli with the merest hint of sexy, creamy jasmine.  A scent to make you feel it’s all still possible? Respect to Dior for introducing proper grown up scent to a fresh new generation - and reminding this old Crone that whereas it may not get her laid, chypre really does make her feel cheerful. Happy Valentine’s!

Miss Dior Eau Fraïche, from £49, 50ml, Harrods then nationwide from 5^th March. Miss Dior Original EDT from £35.60 30m; and Diorling, £69.50, 100ml EDT from Christian Dior counters nationwide.

Talon contest

                                           Polish potential: are politicians the real drips?

Has it been claws out over the cornflakes in the Gove household this week? First, the Education Secretary’s plans to disqualify vocational courses - such as Nail Technology - from counting as GCSE’s hit the presses. The very next day, the formidable Sarah Vine, Beauty Ed of the Times, bezzies with SamCam and wife of Gove published a beltingly brilliant defence of the UK beauty biz and all work in it.  “This assumption that all things beauty are just well, a bit silly, irritates me,’ she snarled. ‘It’s not just that appearance is something we all care about, whether we like to admit it or not; it’s also that beauty is a very serious and substantial business, and an important sector of our economy.’ Go Sarah!  Latest figures (Mintel, 2010) show the total UK beauty market to be worth a staggering £14.27 billion with makeup accounting for  £1.275 billion and nail polish alone, £179 million. 

So that other bit of news this week - that nail bars are the fastest-growing businesses in the high street, making up 16.5% of all new outlets in the past three years -  seems curiously at odds with Grinchy Gove’s ‘pan the polish’ policy. There’s a recession on, dammit. Shouldn’t we be encouraging our youth by recognising skills that probably will keep them gainfully employed?  (As most of us will be working our fingers to the bone for the foreseeable future, it’s a moot point whether we’ll give a stuff if the technician rescuing our nails has a GCSE or not). But as Vine so rightly says, if the beauty biz was a male-dominated industry, like armaments or shipbuilding, we’d be trumpeting its successes from the rooftops. Instead, anyone remotely involved tends to be regarded as an air-head. Vine confesses that people are taken aback when she tells them her job’s writing about makeup. Shouldn’t she be doing something more serious?  Crone has literally inspired laughter from her own husband’s cerebral mates - while their wives have quizzed her covertly about skincare.  I could go on all night about how our pursed-lipped Northern European ethic regards physical sublimation either shameful or as a learning difficulty outed. But I’d rather quote Vindicating Vine one last time. The beauty industry ‘is a sector that offers great possibilities for employment and social mobility,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t matter which school you went to or who your parents are: if you’re good, you’ll make it to the top.’ Sarah, you’ve so nailed it.

Above: OPI Nail Polish in Dutchya Just Love OPI, £12 from the Holland Collection. For stockists and salons, call 01923 240 010 or visit www.lenawhite.co.uk

Barbie says no to tress stress

This is the lovely Barbie having a very bad hair day. So, speaking reassuringly in my most Concerned Crone tone, ‘Barb,’ I gently reasoned. ‘You’re so not alone, here girlfriend. Those bouff-heads at Charles Worthington reckon today’s the day when Brits are most in need of a serious hair fix, since stats show a 35% rise in sales of hair treatments each February 2^nd.’ Barbie’s limpid blue eyes widened in wonder.  I knew what she was thinking; how did I know such things? More to the point, how could she fix that blasted Barnett and fast? ‘Listen up, I said. First off, rake a Tangle Teezer through that mangy mane and you’ll sleek that frizz, no problem. It’s also brilliant at gently sorting dyed-to-death locks like yours, especially when it’s wet and matts up like wire wool.’ Barbie looked wounded for a moment, but I just knew she thought the new Compact Styler was rather fab. So I pressed on purposefully. ‘Charles Worthington Salon at Home Strength and Repair kit’s just the thing to restore dry, damaged and fragile hair. There’s a shampoo, mask and pre-wash Repair Oil that doesn’t half put back the shine and makes hair less brittle, too.’ Barbie was perking up now. She’d spotted my pink jumbo rollers - Poundland’s finest, don’tcha know. ‘Blow-dry your hair section by section. Then when each section’s still warm quickly roll it up and pin,’ I counselled. ‘Leave the hair to cool round the roller to set that smooth bounce. An all-over whoosh of Davines’ excellent Defining Glam Power Spray sheens as it holds that ‘oomph. Honestly, it’s what I do every day!’ I encouraged.  Fifteen minutes, a final Tangle Teeze and a root-zooming of hairspray later, Barbie was tossing the gloss like she owned it. ‘Where’s Ken?” I enquired mildly and she shot me a minxy kind of look that said ‘Who gives a ••••?” as she pulled out her crystal-studded i-phone. Dunno who she’s texting now. Surely not her hairdresser?

Charles Worthington Salon at Home Strength & Repair, £19.95, Boots and www.boots.com

Tangle Teezer Compact Styler, £12.24 Boots and www.tangleteezer.com

Davines Defining Glam Power Spray, £13.30 from leading salons nationwide.

Call 0203 301 5449

Creams not complications

Well happy new year!  Is 2012 looking good? Not perhaps, if ‘Implantgate’ has anything to do with it. Who doesn’t relish the frisson of long-held convictions vindicated? But hand on unaugmented breast, Crone is far from basking in schadenfreude after what must have been a harrowing week’s news for some.

Although I’m thankful it’s never been mine, I have always regarded cosmetic surgery entirely as a matter of choice.  Done expertly by conscientious and experienced surgeons, the uplift goes beyond physical. Yet now it appears that too many practitioners have confirmed the old stereotype of the venal, dilatory doc, cynically exploiting clients’ insecurities, bullshitting over slip-ups and surgical recalls and blatantly dodging the blame. Remember that wickedly wideboy portrayal of the plastic surgeon in Terry Gilliam’s eerily prophetic Brazil?  ‘Just a little complication….’ was the fob-off line swallowed by the gullible, bandaged Mrs Terrain, whose ‘complication had a little complication’ as her lift slid terminally south…

Crone so agrees with Times journalist Janice Turner, who last Saturday accused some cosmetic surgery clinics of behaving as irresponsibly as banks, cashing in on the boom with scant attention to long-term implications.  Now the spotlight’s turning on fillers (permanent ones for now, temporaries watch this space) Crone’s more convinced than ever that penury aside, we haven’t a clue what the ultimate effects of repeated procedures will be, because frankly we’re still in the guinea pig phase. As Turner says, we already know that ‘cosmetic surgery offers spectacular but unsustainable results.’  And if you can’t trust your surgeon’s judgement over what goes under your skin,  what’s the point of risking it anyway?

So as ever, Crone’s sticking to creams. OK, the results aren’t likely to be spectacular, but with a bit of dedication, skin looks and feels better both in the short and long term.

I don’t usually blog about products that haven’t hit the stores yet, but what’s a new year for if not forecasting? I’m particularly excited about soon-to-be-launched formulas from old favourite names, which exemplify the spirit of consolidation rippling through the cosmetics industry right now. Instead of rushing out ‘the next best thing’ on a half-baked theory and shoe-horning yet another ‘step’ into an already heaving regime, smart brands are upgrading their star performers with cutting edge research. For 2012, Clarins have done it with Extra-Firming Day and Night Creams - the UK’s anti-ageing best sellers. When they first launched in 19778, little was known about how chemical messaging can influence stem cells to boost protein links that keep skin firm and flexible - or how green banana extract (really!) boosts results. Inspired by the BB cream trend, Lancôme have multi-tasked their 20 year-old Rénergie range so each cream lifts, firms and de-wrinkles on all skin levels, and brightens too.  Love the 2-in-1 eye tightener with brightening concealer built into the lid! Then there’s Estée Lauder’s Revitalizing Supreme Global Anti-Ageing Creme - a ‘one stop pot’ formulated around Lauder’s research into SIRT-1, the ‘longevity’ gene. This time black bamboo’s the master switch that turns on ‘multiple anti-ageing pathways in the skin.’ Specially designed for European women who can’t be arsed with faddy routines for this and that, its easy melt-in-the-skin texture has a pleasure rating of 20 out of 10. Bang on the money?  Keep it simple is Crone’s 2012 mantra - and don’t trust what you can’t sustain.

• Clarins Extra Firming Day Wrinkle Lifting Cream - All Skin Types and Special for Dry Skin, £46; Extra Firming Day Lifting Lotion SPF15 - All Skin Types, £46; Extra-Firming Night Rejuvenating Cream - All Skin Types and Special for Dry Skin, £48 available from March.  Stockists: 0800 036 3558 or www.clarins.co.uk

• Lancôme Rénergie Multi-Lift Day Cream, SPF15, £60; Eclat Multi-Lift, £39; Yeux Multi-Lift, £46; Yeux, £39 and Nuit Multi-|Lift, £60, at Lancôme counters nationwide from 1^st April.

• Estée Lauder Revitalizing Supreme Global Anti-Ageing Creme, £56, at Estée Lauder counters nationwide and www.esteelauder.com from April.

Whose bones on the throne?

 Cornwall.....

[With apologies to John Betjeman]

It’s awfully well done of Camilla

To think about all of our bones.

What a diligent, duchessly pillar

Of society’s fillies and crones!

Don’t diet!  she wisely advises,

Lest your BMD dwindle to dust.

Ignore skinny slebs in the glossies

Who infer that starvation’s a must….

Well, that’s enough of that. Sincerely though, thumbs up to the Senior Duch on embracing her role as President of the National Osteoporosis Society. As Crone’s know only too well, brittle bones are yet another post-menopausal risk we face - and yes, chronically poor nutrition in earlier life is a contributing factor.  As the Duch puts it in today’s Daily Wail, ‘the link between young girls, eating disorders and osteoporosis is a ticking timebomb,’ and magazines are to blame, she says. ‘You have all these glossy magazines which are read by young girls who then go on a diet and try to be thin to emulate the models they see,’ she believes, adding that mags bear a lot of responsibility in what they write.  Er, well yes, your Duchessness. Thanks for reminding us.  As a beauty journalist of some 40 years standing, I constantly curse my industry for having single-handedly caused national dysmorphia, if not our current anorexia epidemic. Or should that read obesity epidemic?  We in the UK do have the most shocking obesity figures in Europe after all….  

Reading the thoughts of  Chairwoman Camilla on the bus this morning (yes, I know I should have walked off my lard arse, but it was raining) made me wonder where was brittle anorexic fashion journalist Liz Jones? And bingo!  There she was, hating her bones and the business yet again on page 27.  No show without Punch, so they say. But moving swiftly to the crunch,call me a cynical old Crone but is the real baby elephant in Camilla’s room the increasingly willowy and winsome, glossy new Duchess of Dukan?  And do I detect a thinly-veiled swipe at old rival, Diana Superstar into the bargain?  Both have graced more magazine covers than Camilla’s had hot dinners. And do pardon my flimsiness, but I know whose bones I’d rather see on the throne. Now there's a ticking timebomb…..

.... or Cambridge?  You figure.