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.

Keeping up appearances

Hold up:  Senior Crones will appreciate the reference to the bulldog clip

First, apologies for a summer of silence.  Crone has been deep in the throes of ministering to her nonagenarian mother, who sadly fell and broke her arm in July. Senior Crone is now doing tolerably well, but things remain a tad delicate.  Hey, well.  There comes a time in almost all our lives when mothercare takes on a poignant new spin. All the more reason then, to exploit instant and easy ways of putting a brave face on it, eh?

So I’m amused, but not surprised to read Mintel’s latest research has found that (daffy Liz Jones apart) UK women prefer skincare to surgery -  just a teensy 2% resort to the knife these days. Six in 10 women over 65 use products to look better for their age says Mintel, who conclude that taking pride in your looks isn’t just a youth thing.  Well, duh!!!  What planet do they live on? Every Crone worth her creams could have told them that. They go on to share that 57% of women aged 55-64 use skincare to sort out their wrinkles and fine lines and that anti-ageing moisturisers are top of the to-do list . Double duh!!! (Actually, in all my years of beauty writing, I’ve never actually embraced the physiological difference between a line and a wrinkle. Especially when they call them ‘fine’ lines. Are they posher than your bog-standard creases - sort of Waitrose-grade facial fissures? Is a line just wrinkle-in-waiting, like it’s queuing to star in its own close-up? Is one straight and deep and the other, well… crinkly?  Or is it all just marketing semantics…)

Whatever. The range that’s been helping to raise Crone’s spirits (and jowls) over the past weeks is Estée Lauder’s Resilience Lift Firming/Sculpting Collection.  The anti-sagging technology purports to tweak skin’s Sirtuins (so-called longevity genes) into ‘supporting’ collagen, laminin and elastin - proteins which keep skin firm and smooth. Whether Sirtuins actually do increase cell life is controversial - a new study at University College London now suggests they may not. But what Crone finds so uplifting is that Lauder’s refreshing pink Face and Neck Lotion feels reassuringly substantial. The Eye Cream brightens and de-bags without attacking her contact lenses - a rare thing, believe me!  But the real genius is Instant Action Lift Treatment - extra-tightening help dispensed from a flexy rubber spatula which, stroked over your worst nightmares, really does shrink them - albeit temporarily - like cling-film for your wrinkles. Or fine lines. And I swear it keeps my makeup looking braver for longer. Because let’s face it, Crone needs all the help she can get right now… 

• Estée Lauder Resilience Lift Firming/Sculpting Collection. Face and Neck Creme SPF15, and Lotion, both £58. Sculpting Eye Creme, £40. Night Face and Neck Creme, £60. Instant Lift Action Treatment, £45. At Estée Lauder counters nationwide and www.esteelauder.co.uk

Sweet smell of youth

Can a scent make you smell younger,  or does your good old favourite spray give your age away?  This vexing question occurred to Crone as she sniffed new versions of grand old classics currently gracing beauty counters now. 

Thanks to a generous puthering of iris, Chanel No.19 Poudré is a softer and more, well…powdery version of the 1971 original.  Ah, 1971.  Biba,  loons (remember falling over those ludicrous, flapping 22 inch flares?) and the sad demise of Coco Chanel, just months after her 87’th birthday the previous year. 

A green and gamine chypre, Chanel No.19 (Mlle Coco was born on 19^th August) became the bra-burning kid sister to grown-up aldehydic floral No.5.  Nothing sissy about this - Gauloises-puffing intellectuals loved No.19  for its bracing, tomboyish edge. It seems an irony then, that this pioneering ‘youth scent’ should be powdered down for a post-post feminist generation raised on amorphous  fruity florals. But Crone reluctantly admits that pumping up the iris (powdery bit) has put No.19 back on trend in a beautifully suave, easy-on-the-nose kind of way

Around the same time as No.19’s launch, Crone discovered Guerlain’s magnificent oriental, Shalimar.  Created in 1925, the year of the International Exhibition of Decorative Arts (Art Deco) in Paris, exotic Shalimar went perfectly with the ‘20s and ‘30s frocks Crone snapped up from Oxfam. (Can’t get them for love nor money, not even on Portobello these days!).  Crone’s beau de jour never failed to point out that the billows of vanilla reminded him of custard powder.  (Was she apple crumble of his eye? She didn’t stick around long enough to find out). Yet according to Guerlain nose Thierry Wasser, his 17-year-old neice found the original scent intimidating. Fair enough, beneath vanilla’s sweetness lurks a darker, more hormonal vibe.  Vanilla is, after all, an aphrodisiac - Jacques Guerlain used to say that he made Shalimar like an outrageously low-cut dress.  Wasser’s redesign, Shalimar Initial, is simpler, lighter, a little bit fruity and even more powdery.  It’s that iris riff again.

So the big question. If we loved the originals, will we embrace these new versions too? It’s been 85 years since the first Shalimar and 40 since No.19. During that time, many of the original ingredients used have now been restricted or banned.  So no, it’s not your hormones or failing sense of smell - your old favourite fragrance is almost certainly not what it once was.  Times have changed, too - and brighter, more vibrant new ingredients have given many old classics a new lease of life.  So can your scent make you smell  younger?  It’s worth a go…

• Chanel No.19 Poudré, 50ml Eau de Parfum, £61 available nationwide from July 15^th 

• Guerlain Shalimar Initial, 40ml Eau de Parfum, £37 available nationwide from August 1^st 

Liz accepts a lift?

Things are looking up for Liz. Think she's been photoshopped, too? 

Well, slap my thighs - 52 year-old Liz Jones has gone and had a facelift.  Gone is the familiar cat butt  scowl. Mooning out from today’s Daily Wail like a hyperventilating chipmunk are her newly wide eyes and preternaturally plumped skin. All courtesy of blepharoplasty, dermaroller, Botox and fillers, not to mention the lift itself.  Hmmm.  Let me get my calculator.  So that’ll be not a lot of change from £6,000, at my purposely conservative estimate.  That’s if she paid for all of it herself.  

For while she’s grease-lightening quick to bemoan the thousands she’s wasted on anti-ageing skincare -  ‘I used to spend £400 a month on creams and facials and nothing worked’ she trills - she’s curiously schtum about the price tag on her new improved fizz. And while she’s wagging a nibbled finger at the beauty editors she accuses of colluding with big name brands in the interests of advertising, Crone would love to learn how such a life-affirming newspaper feature actually came to pass.  Has Jones selflessly laid down her own flesh for a story?

But hey, that’s what she does.  Remember, this is the woman who sacrificed her marriage in the interests of truth and integrity and now has only four-legged friends to pay attention to her isolation, poverty, anorexia... Her emotional auto-evisceration is surely a lesson to us all. 

Don’t get me wrong, Crone’s all for sharing experience - it’s precisely what she’s done for the past 40 years.  Experience has, in fact, taught her that women who ‘do’ surgery rarely look younger, just tense and miserable about their age.  Surgery’s a high-maintenance programme. Liz Jones has now embarked on a costly process of Botox and filler top-ups which in time, may prove as great a financial burden as her extreme cream habit. Because there inevitably comes a point where reality leaves the house and takes with it the sense to see when enough is enough.  And while we're talking perspective - fix one thing and the rest looks odd. Jones has already noticed how crabby her hands are compared to that baby-smooth face…

So what’s next on her agenda?  Will she, like the French performance artist Orlan, embark on more shape-shifting ops in the name of her art?  Will her surgeon, Alex Karidis stitch her up with a perpetual 'Jack Nicholson does the Joker' grin? Oh, for the love of sanity,  give us the face cream…..

 Cat got your makeup?  The way she was 

Eye of the beholder

Oh, no Dell'Olio...

Couple of items in the Daily Wail caught Crone’s eye yesterday.  And she’s not just talking Nancy Dell’Olio’s braless beauties. Right below those untrussed puppies on the very same page, was a report that suggested women become invisible at 46. This bombshell comes courtesy of Clarivu Total Vision Correction, a lens replacement technique that corrects both long and short sightedness - a pesky visual oxymoron Crone knows only too well. Their poll of  2,000 women found that by the time we reach our mid-50s, many of us say we no longer attract admiring glances from strangers or compliments from blokes.  The rot sets in somewhere towards our late 40s, when a glitch in confidence isn’t helped by having to wear specs, the report states. 

So that’s the ‘soon-to-be-50’ Dell’Olio syndrome finally explained, then. A deficit in the chutzpah department is hardly the problem. Yet were she able to focus, she’d of course agree that after a certain age, uplift should come less courtesy of 6-inch Louboutin heels and more  from strategic underwiring.  The trim waist is enviable, granted.  But clearly visible nipples drooping over your cummerbund ain’t a good look, girl.  At least she’s had the sense not to flash a crinkly cleavage - if, in fact, she has one. Her toned arms could give Michelle O’s a run for their money and approaching their half century, the pins are more lissom that Crone's were at 12.  You might call this envy - but the thigh-high hemline looks desperately naff.  In the name of elegance, just because your bits are still loved up doesn’t justify getting them out for all and sundry. Thing is, Nancy has a truly beautiful face that’s often rendered invisible by her truly blinding lack of taste. Compared to the old tousle, the short hair is a chic move - classic and fresh at the same time.  Now she’s moving in more artistic circles, Crone would like to suggest Nancy lives up to her new role as muse by embracing that good old ‘less is more’ philosophy that always leaves 'em wanting, well.....more. 

Friend of Crone watching Murray v Nadal at Wimbledon has just squeaked she’s spotted Trevor Nunn in the crowd. Let’s hope Sunday morning tennis isn’t a feature of his courtship with Nancy. They’re oddly matched in the first place, but imagining her outfit’s a call too eye-watering even for Crone. 

Staycation, fakation...

Well, it’s two days past the solstice and the sun’s still playing hard to get.  As we speak, a billowing grey mass of cumulus is obliterating the shard of great blue yonder Crone can just about spy through her window. Going, going….  If ever a break clause was needed, it’s now.  But, like the 40% of stay-at-home Brits outed in the press this week, Crone’s coffers are the driest thing about this summer’s long term forecast.  Looks like a fakation’s the only resort… 

Happily, the inconceivable has actually occurred - Crone has finally found a self-tanner she likes. Not that it comes cheap. Costing twice the price of an Easy Jet fare to the Costas but perhaps more dependable, Perricone’s No Sun Tanner’s virtually foolproof.  Just a smidgen of tan developer DHA (dihydroxyacetone) in the mix gives Crone’s beyond-the-pale limbs a subtle and convincing golden glow. The formula, designed to be built up successively (although Crone finds a single application does her nicely for three to four days) is creamy and easy to apply evenly, so streaking’s minimal if at all. Mind you, Crone doesn’t hedge her bets.  A serious buff around knees, elbows and ankles with an exfoliating Japanese wash cloth seems to avert those hideous orange stains that so characterise d-i-y do’s. And snapping on latex gloves not only looks professional, it gives a smoother finish that won’t Tango your palms. Most amazing of all though, is the lack of acrid, burnt biscuit whiff that makes so many fake tans visceral turn-offs. Okay, there’s a teensy hint of vanilla-ish something, but not enough to clash with your much-loved eau de quelque chose. 

However subtle, self-tans are strictly for bodies in Crone’s book. Faces, with their lines and wrinkles are tricky - then there’s the delicate matter of your eyes. (Sssh - but someone known to Crone tans her face  ritually, so her pores are like freckles and her skin looks seriously dingy!)  Coaxing a glow with a palette like Nars Blush Bronzer Trio is, on the other hand, a doddle. This little beauty co-ordinates best-selling shades white-gold highlighter Albatross with Laguna bronzer and thrillingly-named Orgasm blush to stunning effect. Don’t brush Laguna all over - just under your cheekbones, over your brow and along your jawline gives a sunny impression without overload. But after you’ve picked up colour with your brush, do buff it onto the back of your hand so the bristles are evenly coated. You’ll get a much lighter, subtler, easily-controlled effect on your face. Next buff Orgasm onto your cheek apples (smile if you’re not sure where they are) and without re-charging the brush, sweep it up onto your temples and browbones. Just a smidgen of Albatross highlighter swept over your cheekbones near your outer eye corners and finger-blended just under your brow arch and inner eye corners gives your whole face a lift.

The sun protection is, of course wishful thinking. But should we ever feel those hot rays again, Nivea’s Invisible SPF50 spray and handbag-sized SPF30 are simply genius blue sky thinking. Now, must mow that lawn.  Oh, pass the Pimms, do…

 Wish you were here? Close your eyes and you're on Devon's jurassic coastline... 

 • Perricone MD No Sun Tanner, £50,  0800 917 8698 and www.perriconemd.co.uk

• Nars Limited Edition Blush Bronzer Trio, £39, Liberty and www.narscosmetics.co.uk

• Nivea Sun Invisible Protection SPF50, £16.84 and Pocket Size SPF30, £5.10, Boots and Superdrug.

What's it all about, algae? Why, our clean and pleasant sand...

 

Alright, alright. The puns are truly terrible, but Crone just couldn't resist. And there are worse things - so to business. This Wednesday June 8th^h was World’s Ocean Day, honouring our seas and all who swim and sail  them. Co-ordinated by the World Ocean Network and recognised by the UN, this annual celebration encourages us not only to enjoy marine bounties, but encourages us to consider what we can do to respect and protect our seas.

To this end, Crone shimmied down to shingly Whitstable with thalassotherapy (marine beauty) experts Thalgo, whose detoxifying, anti-ageing treatments based on mineral-rich Brittany algae she’s long admired.  The mission was a spot of intensive beach cleaning, so rubber gloves snapped purposefully on and brandishing telescopic pincers, under the watchful eye of Helen Bennington, Environmental Promotions Officer at Canterbury Council an intrepid team of beauty colleagues braved salty gusts and jibes of ‘Where’s yer tags?” (Helen’s more usual task forcers are young offenders on community service) and filled a minor mountain of bags with assorted crap. We then paid due honour to a deliciously slurpy, juicy lunch at the world-famous Whitstable Oyster Fishery Company’s beachside restaurant.  

Job well done?  Hmmm. Here’s the thing, Why, oh why did we need to scurry around picking up after people too cynical, selfish or stupid to take responsibility for their own detritus?  Are they blind?  Did they miss the strategically placed bins? Oh, don’t get me started. 

Much to Mr Crone’s dismay, rubbish dumping is becoming something of an obsession with Crone. But her mounting fury is proportionate to the rise in routine tipping Crone sees just walking down her own North London street. But what’s really harrowing is the casual desecration of wild and beautiful places by those who evidently enjoy them, then make damned sure no-one else - and that includes vulnerable wildlife - can. It’s as if, diminished by the grandeur and spirituality of nature, your average tip-head is compelled to assert themselves by making a mark with their crass calling card. Or am I over-intellectualising this? Sadly, I suspect the real reason is, they literally don’t give a toss. Call Crone a litter fascist, but zero tolerance is too cushy for ‘em.  People who dump trash are trash, I say.

Top of Crone’s hit list is dog walkers who feel they’ve done their bit by scooping a poop….then parking it, black bag and all, under the nearest tree. What a spectacularly mindless act of double-dumping.  Oh, a parcel! For me? Someone has to pick it up, don't they... Last summer as Crone wandered peacefully though Derbyshire’s verdant Dovedale (well, it was a weekday) she was horrified to see what looked like mutant Gothic bunnies dangling from riverside branches as if sinister votive offerings to the National Trust. Well, we found some of that at Whistable too, in spite of the clearly visible pooper bins…

Apoplectic? Moi? Moaning Crone had better go dowse her BP in a soothing  Thalgo algae soak before Mr Crone speed dials the paramedics. But she’ll leave you with a couple of final thoughts. An inscription on the wall of the Marine Display in the basement of the magnificent palm house at Kew Gardens brings it home how precious and delicate the interaction between marine, land - and human life really is. ‘Without algae there would be no life on earth, the seas would be sterile and the land uncolonised,’ it advises. After all, algae provide 50% of the earth’s oxygen and absorb copious amounts of carbon dioxide in a spectacularly generous gesture of give and take. World Ocean day reminds us that, unless we all want to be in the soup, it’s up to us to practise a bit of the old quid pro quo ourselves. Responsibility begins at home and cleaning up after ourselves - whether on streets, woods or beaches - is an excellent way to start.

Sea view?  Shame wrappers, tissues, tins and plastic bottles are now the benchmark 

The Yellow horned sea poppy (glaucium flavum) brightens shingly British shorelines. Pity ice cream tubs and plastic beer cups do too….

Who you calling rubbish?  The beach-cleaning team lead by Helen Bennington (check shirt) hard at it

                  Marion Green, Thalgo’s UK MD with unidentified plumbing objet trouvé

Bin there, done it. So why can't dumpers do the same?

Just so you know we scrub up well -  Thalgo’s detoxifying Bains Marins Thalassobath with Algae and stimulating Ocean Memory Deep Sea Scrub

               Sea you in the bar - the world-famous Whitstable Oyster Fishery Company HQ

                     Slipped down a treat - six of Whitstable’s finest native rock oysters on ice

• Thalgo is available in over 500 UK salons and spas. For stockists contact 0207 512 0872 or visit www.Thalgo.com

• The Whitstable Oyster Fishery Company, Royal Native Stores, Horsebridge Road, Whitstable, CT5 1BU. 01227 276 856 www.whitstableoystercompany.com

These little sweeties

Oh, I know.  Crone did a bit of a wince when she first saw these nail polishes. After all, bright comes as a bit of a shock after all those Chanel-a-like buffs and putties.  But then came the gauntlet moment.  Apparently, these juicy little Bourjois lacquers were made with the adventurous UK in mind, rather than the more precious Gallic market. Which made Crone think, well… French women may have chic stitched into their DNA, but we’re the one’s with the chutzpah. So, since toenails are the safest place to pilot a provocative (and let’s face it ,demanding) new colour, that’s where Crone’s flying the flag.  And although her teenage step-grand-daughter will almost inevitably inherit the chrome yellow option (shows up tough skin and cuticles!) Crone’s unaccountably taken quite a shine to the lime.  Followed closely by the violet.  But not together - that really would be trotters painted as piggies.

The giant jelly beans by the way - which just happened to match the polishes perfectly - come from the new range of party sweets offered by the beyond delicious Grocer on Elgin, in Elgin Crescent just off Portobello market and round the corner from Crone Central offices. These wickedly moreish munchables guaranteed to revive the inner child, set Crone thinking again. As this pesky recession trundles on, retailers reckon sales of old-fashioned sweets, puds and biscuits are rocketing. The positive cheer of simple pleasures?  Bourjois’ smiley, vynil-shiny  polishes with their chip-resistant 7-day finish could be just the pazzaz we need to get us through an uncertain summer.

• Bourjois So Lacque Ultra Shine, £5.99 available from June at Boots, boots.com and Superdrug (0800 269 836). Giant Jelly Beans 250g, £2.45 www.thegroceron.com

Just a little green...

Capturing scent’s sensory impact in words is one of the most challenging tasks a beauty hackette faces. Do you risk the Pseud’s Corner-style pretentiousness of waffling in fluent metaphysics like some farty pastiche of Proust? Try to sound impressive by talking aromachemicals and molecules? Or gush about the bottle because a hot designer label’s splashed across it?

Oh, let’s not lose the will to sniff. It’s Crone’s belief that emotional honesty’s the best policy. Never mind the label - how does the smell make you feel? That’s why right now, you’re gazing at a tranquil but hazy, green and pleasant summer evening scene, just as the dusk pixels down. (Actually, it’s Rutland Water in Leicestershire and the only thing missing from the frame is a long, cool Mojito but Crone was driving after all….)

So this was the image that flashed into Crone’s mind when fashionably edgy Maison Martin Margiela’s [untitled] l’eau arrived on her desk this week. A lighter,  more citrusy version of Margiela’s first [untitled]  Eau de Parfum (which, incidentally Crone adores) this fresh, slightly minty Eau de Toilette still has a tantalising dark side, thanks to a healthy whack of galbanum mixed with a deliciously dirty smidgen of patchouli. Now, galbanum is an intensely sappy, resinous gum with a slightly woody, mossy undertow which  is extracted from a fennel-like, Mediterranean umbelifer. In the tradition of Balmain’s fabulous 1945 classic Vent Vert, it gives scents an exhilarating rush of crushed leaves, while hinting at something much less immediate. 

For [untitled] eau, Perfumer Daniela Andrier (who incidentally is also responsible for a host of Prada ‘infusions’ including the lovely Iris) reckoned she ‘took the existing fragrance and drenched it in water making it even more invigorating and direct, while adding an element of mystery.’ Crone couldn’t put it better herself. She’s still not sure about Margiela’s strategically distressed designs - there comes a time when raw hems and unfinished edges just look dilatory. But if you fancy something green but not naïve, here’s your scent for summer.  Now about that studiedly minimalist bottle….

• Maison Martin Margiela [untitled] l’eau, £60 100ml Eau de Toilette, available exclusively at Selfridges from 23^rd May. 

Magic wands

As beauty legends go, Touche Éclat is up there with Eight Hour Cream and Chanel No.5. Perhaps the most copied make-up gismo in the business, this magic wand is the generic for highlighting click-pens.  Designed 20 years ago by the very sympathique Terry de Gunzburg (also creator of luxe range By Terry - a Crone favourite) when she was creative director at YSL, Touche Éclat is a maestro of multi-tasking that really does wake up grim and dingy-looking skin. Crone loves it’s instant eye-lift effect - a dot blended at inner and outer eye corners plus one for luck just under the brow arch lightens weary, blue-tinged shadows, hushes crow’s feet and generally perks up a dreary expression.  Blended around lip contours (with extra attention at the corners) it hides wrinkles, blocks lipstick bleed-off and visually plumps your pout. It can even help ‘soft focus’ smile and chin creases…

Ok, so Crone’s a fan - but she wasn’t at first. Like many of her contemporaries, she expected Touche Éclat to hide rather than hush her many blemishes. (True concealers rely on denser pigments which often contradict light-catching ones) Then there was the shade - a rather tricky pink which suited English rosy skin tones (the UK is traditionally Touche Éclat’s biggest fan base) but left more yellow-toned European skins - including, ironically typically French complexions - rather cold.

But now all that’s been sorted. Thanks to seismic leaps in pigment technology, Touche Éclat now comes in no less than seven shades of radiance to brighten and highlight all skintones - even ebony ones. The encouragingly coined ‘Ampli Light’ technology that makes this breakthrough possible has been nicked from the paint industry, where transparent, light-grabbing pigments are employed to give even deep colour an inner sheen, rather than a brash metallic finish.  

So to practicalities.  YSL’s Northern European makeup artist, Fred Letailleur advises us to finger-blend Touche Éclat for the most natural effect or use the built-in brush for intensified, ‘air-brushed’ radiance.  Mixed with foundation, it gives skin a subtle, all-over glow;  or swept on with a dampened blusher brush,  it gives cheekbones a diffused, heightened highlight or, if you brush a deeper shade underneath, a softly sculpting effect. Fred also mixes it with eyeshadow for a subtle sheeny, creamy. long-lasting finish. Which reminds me. One of Touche ´Éclat’s greatest virtues is its uncanny talent for neutralising red, crinkly-looking lids all on its own. And that really is a magic touch.

• Yves St Laurent Touche Éclat, £24.50, new shades previewing from May 19  in Selfridges, London, Manchester and Birmingham and Brown Thomas, Dublin, Cork, Limerick and Galway; launching nationwide on August 4.

Light bulb moment

Eureka!  Last week someone Crone hadn’t seen for well, must have been a couple of years at least, told her she was looking younger. Then, on the very same day, a colleague asked if she’d had Botox.  Not being a fan, she was able to raise an eyebrow. Why such glowing compliments?

Then I remembered I’d tried yet another ‘brightening’ serum for the first time that very morning. Now call me a cynical old Crone, I’m still not convinced that Estée Lauder’s new Even Skintone Illuminator can hog all the limelight on this one, but I’m willing to entertain its potential. This formula chucks the book at lacklustre complexions with instant glow-getting Triple Optics - three different grades of light deflecting pigments - that brighten, blur and even out blotchy, dingy-looking skin. Long term actives include sugar-derivative glucomsamine and vitamin C to ‘energise’ skin and gently exfoliate dark spots away, plus anti-irritants to help reduce and prevent redness. Now, this side of prescriptions and procedures, age spots are buggers to shift, so don’t expect rapid results from any strictly cosmetic formula. Really, your best bet’s prevention - an SPPF30 at least, which this serum doesn’t have because it’s designed to be worn under protective moisturiser. But the oil-free texture’s a silky dream and - ahem! - a brilliant base for makeup. (Crone’s wearing it under her trusty mineral powder foundation).  According to Lauder tests, it will take another week at the very least before Crone can expect to see any difference in the two brown splodges on her right cheek that she maintains for testing purposes. (Well, that’s her story…).  Yet already she’s inclined to agree with the 84% of women who agreed their skin appeared more even-toned. Perhaps the best thing about Even Skintone Illuminator, is that its well-balanced brightening optics suit all complexions, even black skin upon which some products leave a slimy-looking ashy film. Worth a glow? 

• Estée Lauder Idealist Even Skintone Illuminator, from £46. Previewing at Selfridges from 16^th May; nationwide and online at www.esteelauder.co.uk from 7^th June. 

Tan today, gone tomorrow

These are Crone’s pins.  She wishes.  Crone cannot claim to own the doubles for such uber-svelte limbs, although the current sunshine has tempted her to flash a diffident ankle. Dumping tights for bare flesh is surely one of the year’s most liberating events, but the ‘daring to bare’ bit’s a tough gig. Easing rite of passage this time round is Guerlain’s Jambes de Gazelle. Naturally, the high camp name made Crone cackle with mirth, but the press demonstration - by none other than ‘Tanning King’ James Read was unusually encouraging. Unlike smelly, streaky self tans which stain your ankles an inelegantly Wagtastic orange, here’s a sweetly-scented, realistically-tinted and - joy of joys - predictable product that promises  flattery without the faff. Wash-off tans like these put you in conrol - what you see is what you get and layering up to your individual ideal tone’s a doddle. Consequently, Crone’s normally ghostly limbs are temporarily sprayed a sheer, matt, light amber - the most convincing fake she’s found. How she loves this no-commitment, no-risk, no-Tango tanning. Might even wear a skirt tomorrow…..

• Guerlain Terracotta Cooling Bronzing Mist, £36 available nationwide

Dior’s new scent couture

Crone is loving the way Dior’s deftly managing nostalgia these days.  Last year, the house  showcased sublime vintage fragrances Diorella, Dioressence, Diorissimo and Eau Fraiche alongside new ‘eclusive’ Forever and Ever Dior in the Les Créations de Monsieur Dior collection. Now, in-house perfumer Francois Demachy unveils his five year tribute project, La Collection de Christian Dior at The Maison de Parfums on Selfridges’ ground floor. These days, fashion houses with any scents are keen to flaunt their heritage with ‘collections privés’ set apart from the masses. All ten of Dior’s reflect events in the house’s history and although brand new, pack a powerful old-school evocation. New Look 1947 is a woody tuberose bouquet that begs to be worn with a cinched waist and shoulder pads. The honeyed amber incense of Mitzah evokes Mitzah Bricard, Dior’s feline muse with a fondness for leopard prints. Soft, optimistic Milly-La-Forêt captures the mill house where Dior entertained artist friends, such as Jean Cocteau; while fresh, aromatic Granville echoes his childhood home in Normandy, built on a cliff overlooking the English Channel on one side and pines on the other. Cologne Royale is a gloriously citrus nod to the 18^th century cologne tradition and the elegant European courts that so influenced Dior. Ambre Nuit is a suavely strident amber-rose chypre, while Bois d’Argent is almost weepily soft and powdery with an iris and incense heart. Three masculine scents round up the collection, although anyone who likes their scents with a bit of welly will doubtless want to dabble.  Crone is strangely drawn to Eau Noire, a dark lavender and liquorice beauty that reminds her of a hot night in Provence. Vétiver is a caffeine-laced, leathery brew redolent of smoking rooms in gentlemen’s clubs of the 1930s; and Leather Oud is full of middle-eastern promise. Stuck for choice? The best time to choose a scent is before lunch, Francois Demachy advises. When you’re hungry, your sense of smell is keener.  When you’re full, it’s down the tubes. Sniff first, then succomb to Yo Sushi (just off the Food Hall) is Crone’s best counsel.

Fragrances in La Collection Christian Dior at The Maison de Parfums, Selfridges cost from £120 for 125ml. 

Push me, pull me lipstick

Back in the days before we twisted, remember push-up lipsticks?  Guerlain’s Creative Director Olivier Echaudemaison certainly does.  The story goes, he was poking about in the company archives when he dusted off an Art Deco  lippie from 1936 called Rouge Automatique. So far, so nostalgic. But the crafty thing about the fully automatic remake that’s just hit the counters, is you don’t even have to take the cap  off - because there isn’t one.  With the single-thumbed dexterity you’d apply to a cigarette lighter (to light your scented candle, of course….) just slide down the tab. The top folds back and the lippie pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box. This of course had CC in stitches at the press launch. Endless entertainment - you could evolve an entire repertoire of one-hand gestures with this slick little baby. ‘I love the game of makeup, so flirty, so seductive when a woman applies lipstick in public,’ effuses Ollie E. Quite so. But I suspect the main advantage is to facilitate multi-tasking - makes you wonder, in fact, why twist-ups were ever invented. The 25-strong shade palette is pretty fine, too - the fiery lacquer red below is called Nahema after Guerlain’s fulsomely spicy-oriental scent from 1979. Best of all, the sheer, vibrant colours have a non-oily finish that won’t creep into your crinkles.

• Guerlain Rouge Automatique, £24.50, available exclusively at Selfridges from 3^rd April and nationwide from 1^st May.