Plastic surgery: What does ‘I haven’t had any work done’ really mean?


Dolly Parton once famously said ‘there’s a reason the Hollywood Hills are in the same part of the country as Silicon Valley’. But in an era where laser hair removal is considered a part of everyday grooming, ‘I haven’t had plastic surgery’, seems to translate to ‘I’ve never sliced into my face’. For most people Botox, fillers and laser treatments don’t count.

Read more: Daily Mail/MailOnline


Trout pouts are out: The chin is in

article-2300195-1530C50B000005DC-9_306x423Nightclub And Bar ConventionThe ‘chimplant’ is not as simple as walking in with a Mr Potato Head profile and asking for the Christina Hendricks cleft.

Read more:Daily Mail/MailOnline


From Nip/Tuck to American Psycho

I’m writing a feature for The Guardian about Life In Los Angeles, and finding that the hard part isn’t coming up with weird stories, it’s editing them down! Case in point: A dating story that probably won’t make the cut.

I was out with a girlfriend at Boa, eating some AMAZING steak tartare, and we spotted a gorgeous handsome stranger sitting at a table near us. So far, so good: Little did we realize that this was one of those men who was MUCH more attractive before he opened his mouth! After introducing himself as a plastic surgeon, I mentioned that I’d read an article in New York Magazine about how plastic surgery can give women baby-faced Madonna/Angelina Jolie hybrid looks.

I was just teasing, but he looked at me, scrutinizing my face, and said: “You know, if I put fillers into your cheeks you could look about eighteen.”

Me: “No thanks, I’m happy to look good for my age.”

Him: (really not understanding) “You DON’T want to look eighteen?”

Me: “I don’t think trying to look eighteen after thirty is natural. But thanks anyway.”

Him: “Really? I would kill to turn back the clock. In fact, I inject myself. Do you girls think I need more?”

At this point, he started looking at his reflection in my knife. I’m not kidding. It was surreal. At that moment his ‘date’, a pneumatic blonde with huge implants, walked in the door.

Him (out of earshot of her): “That girl and I aren’t dating. She’s a porn star, but we’re just friends. I’ll be back later.”

He walked away, and proceeded to hold hands and make out with her in full view of us for an hour. When she went into the bathroom, he rushed back over, pulled out his phone and asked me for my number.

Me: “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Him: “Why not?”

Me: “Because you’re obviously on a date. And honestly? I’m not sure that you have a soul.”

Him (angry, to my girlfriend): “I think your friend has issues with men.”

He left with his date, shooting us the Evil Eye the entire time.

Me (to my girlfriend): “Oh my God, we just met the real-life American Psycho. Only less stylish.”