My first, unintentional foray into the world of skin rejuvenation was 13 years ago, aged 42. Despite living in London, my job required me to travel each month to New York. One weekend I arrived in Manhattan, a little jet-lagged, and my friend Andrew peered at me over dinner and said that he’d book me an appointment with his “dermo”. The following day I arrived at the clinic, which looked disarmingly spartan for a spa, and waited for my appointment. The dermatologist called me into his office, made some polite small talk and started peering very closely at my face.

Source: The Times May 14, 2021 16:07 UTC