Chapter Twenty-Six
The periodic table of elements
By the time Channing calls me the next morning, the online pro-ageing backlash has got even more intense. He reassures me that this is all good publicity and that I ‘slay’, but also encourages me to upload some ‘fresh, positive content’. So, I get dressed (a Cottage Core floral shorts co-ord from a recent Urban Outfitters haul, plus chunky trainers), and head to the Liberty beauty hall on Regent Street. I’ve hardly thought about what happened with Nandy last night with all this going on, and she hasn’t been in touch, but I’m not really expecting her to be. I’m not going to message her – I think she needs to apologise first for storming off like that.
Liberty isn’t that busy, but it’s Wednesday at ten-thirty a.m. so not exactly peak time. Once I’m in the door, I do a quick ‘panorama’ film of the room, making sure I get all the best beauty counters in, tag my location and then post a Story with the caption ‘At the Mothership’ with a heart and a smiley face emoji. This will get them all back on my side, and@Cheshire_In_Stilettoswill love it.
After the burst of energy involved in getting here, I realise I’m now absolutely starving, so I head up to Arthur’s Café on the second floor with Eggs Royale in mind – partly because it’s very Instagrammable, and partly because I had it before once with Merlyn and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted that doesn’t contain cheese.
I’m seated in a semi-circular booth on a blue velvet banquette, which reminds me of the sofas at Yuvana Labs. Which also reminds me, I’ve been expecting to hear from them with thedate of my next Youth Review but nothing yet. Weird – they’re normally so efficient.
I scroll through my phone while I wait for my eggs to see if there are any other comments on the WULT® Woman account. There aren’t any particularly interesting (or funny) ones, apart from someone asking if I have that ‘new face smell’ – but thanks to the backlash my followers are now at 183K. That’s nearly as many as@LuxeLooksWithLily– and more to the point… it beats Cassia Carver, a.k.a. the Job Thief, who is currently doing a live from her hair salon, wearing a t-shirt with the words ‘Kitchen Disco’ on it. Naturally, she has a celebrity hairdresser, Terence Tate, and they are flirting with each other in quite a nauseating manner while they discuss if Cassia should ‘go with the grey’. Naturally, Sonia et al are all sucking up to her in the comments, saying things like ‘Silver is the crown you’ve earned!’ and ‘Think of it as nature’s glitter!’. It’s putting me off my eggs.
As I’m trying to work out whether she’s had her lips done again (I don’t think she has), my food arrives. I dutifully snap a picture, making sure I get the tiled bar area in the background, and add it to my Stories before demolishing the eggs. I pause only briefly to reply to a message from Josie, which is just a link to a recipe for some Ottolenghi ricotta fritters. This is not really the kind of support I need, frankly, and the likelihood of me making these – and the accompanying hibiscus sugar – is beyond slim. I’m also not that keen on cheese in desserts, which I thought she would know by now, so I just reply with a thumbs up, order a flat white, and wonder why I don’t feel as elated as I thought I would that I’ve got more followers than Cassia now.
Walking back into the beauty hall twenty minutes later, I’m surprised to see a throng of middle-aged women, all beautifully dressed in Victoria Beckham and Erdem, with balayage toffee-coloured hair, and dare I say it, a fair few millilitres of Botox and filler between them. I’m not judging, I’ve had enough of it myselfover the years. I push my way into the crowd – there must surely be a ‘Gift with Purchase’ at the Omorovicza counter? – and attempt to navigate my way across the hall. That’s when I hear it.
‘There she is!’
I look round to see who they’re talking about.
‘WULT® Woman!’
‘Wulty!’
Whoops and cheers echo everywhere.
Turns out it’s me they’re talking about.
What.
The.
Hell.
Then I realise – of course, I tagged my location. Have these people really come along here to meet me? They certainly have, it seems, and they want to getveryclose.
‘Hi, I’m@FashionFindsWithFreya!’…
‘Can I touch your face?’…
‘Where’s your co-ord from?’…
‘Can I get WULT® for my husband?’…
‘I’m@DoesThisLookTooOldForMe! If I get the treatment with@BriannaLovesToBuy, can we get a group discount?’…
‘Is WULT® a con – are you actually young?’…
‘Do you ever get ID-ed?’…
‘Do you still pee when you sneeze?’
By now I’ve got my back against the Sisley counter and the women are asking for selfies and pawing at me like I’m an avocado in the fresh produce section. I’m fairly sure I have coffee breath and smoked salmon in my teeth and I’m absolutely certain I didn’t put on any deodorant, so it all feels a little too intimate. But I get paid for this – more than I’ve ever been paid, come to think of it – so I smile and pose for the photos and say positive things, which isn’t that hard because well, I’m the same age as these women yet I look like their daughters.
A few minutes later,@Gabi_glowshas her arm around me and is taking a photo when@UnforgettableFortiesasks if she can feel my tits. Tempting, I have to say, as they are incredibly pert and haven’t had anyone’s hands on them since about 2012, but I politely decline the offer. It’s all getting a bit much and I look over at the doors to see how I can possibly escape.
‘Thanks so much, ladies,’ I say. ‘But I have an appointment now, so I’m heading off. Great to meet you all. Don’t forget to subscribe to email updates to be the first to hear when WULT® becomes available!’
