DAY 2,909 — or it feels like it — of lockdown, and my husband and I prepare for an early night. Amazingly, not in separate rooms. Not quite yet.
He brushes his teeth, has a quick poke about with his interdental brushes, pops his pyjama bottoms on and jumps into bed with a spring in his step.
I, meanwhile, do my teeth, cleanse, exfoliate, moisturise and unpack my brand new pearl and chrome Sensai Biomimesis Veil Diffuser as he waits. And waits.
‘Come on! Come on!’ he yells.
Jane Fryer tries the £700 invention that draws on the calm, unhurried, Zen-like principles of Japanese tea ceremonies and is said to promote calm and wellbeing and help one feel ‘enlightened deep from within
But a lady cannot be rushed through her evening ablutions. Certainly not when using this extraordinary £700 invention that draws on the calm, unhurried, Zen-like principles of Japanese tea ceremonies and is said to promote calm and wellbeing and help one feel ‘enlightened deep from within’. Oh, yes, and far more importantly, promises to make my skin look plumper, firmer and younger.
So, naturally, I ignore the impatient huffing and puffing coming from the boudoir. I shut them out and, instead, think calm meditative thoughts as I prep my skin with a blob of Biomimesis Veil Effector cream. Next, I hold the transparent eye guard in one hand and, with the other, hold the diffuser and spray lashings of a product inspired by Koishimaru silk — an exceptionally light and radiant silk once reserved only for the Imperial family — over my cheeks and forehead.
It does not go well.
In the demonstration video and accompanied by soothing music, the ‘veil’ lands in a soft foam in neat zigzag lines on a beautiful young girl’s cheek. I am not a young girl, and I am the first to admit my cheek could be smoother but, even so, my first Sensai experience is a disaster.
I press the chrome button and wait for the transformation but, sadly, there is no sense of ‘beauty deeply inspired by Japanese nature — subtle, refined and noble’, promised by the literature.
In the demonstration video and accompanied by soothing music, the ‘veil’ lands in a soft foam in neat zigzag lines on a beautiful young girl’s cheek. But this was not Jane’s experience
There are also no soothing white drifts of foam to transform into a fine transparent veil onto the skin. (Apparently, caused by the difference in electrical charges between the skin and the Biomimesis Veil Potion.) Instead, it looks like someone’s slathered my face in burns cream. And my husband is becoming quite irate.
‘What’s going on in there?!’
But on I press, because youthful skin — for the cost a family break in Paris — is just round the corner. And now is the big moment where I ‘adhere the veil’. Or, in layman’s terms, press it to my skin until it becomes invisible and — key to the success — locks in the moisture.
Mine does not become invisible. Some of it sticks to my hands, the rest sits on top of the skin, like a snake, part way through shedding its skin. And I’ve forgotten to pin my hair back, so now I have strange foamy cobwebs in my hair.
The mask is meant to become invisible in the skin, Jane explained, but this did not happen to her. She says: ‘Mine does not become invisible. Some of it sticks to my hands, the rest sits on top of the skin, like a snake, part way through shedding its skin. And I’ve forgotten to pin my hair back, so now I have strange foamy cobwebs in my hair.’
But no matter. Because this is where the real magic starts and the veil creates a membrane that not only nourishes the skin, but locks in moisture overnight and is sufficiently elastic to move with the skin.
It turns out it’s all about the precious Koishimaru silk which, Sensai researchers realised, has the exclusive ability to promote the production of hyaluronic acid — that Holy Grail of skin care, the skin-plumping ingredient that occurs naturally in the body, but can use a little encouragement.
So, at vast expense, and in conjunction with Panasonic, they invented this stylish product — lovely to hold and attractive on your bathroom shelf, and capable of spraying 200,000 metres of micro-fine silky fibres onto your face.
All of which is fantastically impressive. But, to be honest, on my first ‘morning after’, I was disappointed. I looked the same, but festooned in flaky tendrils.
This stylish product is lovely to hold and attractive on your bathroom shelf, and capable of spraying 200,000 metres of micro-fine silky fibres onto your face.
My sons asked what was sticking to my face. Our au pair motioned to her cheek to point out rogue bits of mask. My husband looked at me crossly. (By the time I finally made it to bed, there was an awful lot of detritus on my face and he took one look at me, rolled over in a huff and turned the light out.)
Apparently, it takes a fortnight to see results. Fourteen days of faffing around in the bathroom and waking up like a peeling snake?
(Today, there are many incredibly expensive DIY anti-agers on the market, from pulsating vacuums that boost lip volume (PMD Kiss, £85, currentbody.com) to microdermabrasion tools (GloPRO Microstimulation Facial Tool, £199, gloprobeauty.co.uk) that, thanks to tiny spikes rolled across your face, encourages skin to regenerate. Maybe the people who can afford them also have a dedicated staff member to help them use them.
But, driven by the technological expertise, vanity and the belief that if it’s expensive and has been fan-fared so loudly across the internet, and it’s sold in Harrods, it must be good, I persevered.
Eventually, I got the hang of it. I applied my veil in smooth zigzags, as instructed. I stopped mistakenly putting it on my chin. And I adhered it without a hitch, albeit after I’d snuck off to the spare bathroom to do it each night — because my husband is not a fan of the diffuser.
Jane said she didn’t have the time to apply the mask everyday, but she did notice amazing results
It is not a romance enhancer. Not with all that spraying, patting and pressing before bed. And not the following morning, waking up to a face covered in what looks like fake cobwebs — half of it on the pillow.
But if you lived alone and had your eye on someone — or, if you lived with your husband but didn’t fancy any marital action — it would be perfect. Because, while it’s a right old palaver, it really works.
As the days passed, I noticed my skin plumping and smoothing. It looks fresher, more hydrated. Even after an extended rosé wine session with girlfriends, and another night where I got about three hours’ sleep. People started commenting on how youthful and well rested I looked. I really did start waking up in the morning looking — if not quite the promised ‘youthfully radiant and intensely hydrated Silk Skin like never before’ — a lot better than usual.
Which is annoying. Because I am far too busy and slapdash to be applying Japanese rituals to my evening beauty regime. Or to remember to remove it each morning. (I had some pretty weird looks in the queue outside Sainsbury’s.)
So, sadly, I won’t have Japanese flawlessly silky skin. Or not for much longer. But you could — if you have a spare £700 to burn, are more dedicated than me, and don’t mind the odd cobweb on your pillow.