When Guru Gill invited me to select some of my favourite things, I had to resist loading the entire site into my basket. I’m struggling to find anything VH that I don’t adore.
Except maybe Enterosgel, the drink that stops diarrhoea, because it reminds me of a pig farmer sitting next to me on a flight to Columbo who said, “Don’t worry…I have lots of lovely pigs at home. You are not my type.”
But I don’t want to be banished from the inner sanctum. The Guru has already told me off. At least she hasn’t taken the Wet Brush to me. When I beat the manservant, I use the pink watercolour detangler with the scary spikes. Disciplining him totally tones my arms.
Growing up in the Money family has (almost) made me too shallow to shop. Money doesn’t buy you happiness but poverty isn’t a blast of laughing gas either.
My mum Maddie inherited Grandfather Money’s fortune and spent it on dead glam hotels and taking sucky siblings for a ride on the QE2.
Grandfather Money, a slum landlord, had the decency or bad taste to live in one of his own buildings. Growing up in Glasgow with a view of the gas works, followed by a stint in Beijing where everybody including the lung disease doctor smokes, fuelled my addiction to fresh air. Fresh air is free, the old cliche goes, but actually the Dyson air purifier is quite expensive and a trip to my favourite Mayr clinic in the Bad Mountains isn’t cheap either. But ozone is everything to the shadow on my consumptive lung.
At home in Soho, the multi-talented Hydration Vaccine prevents pollution from sneaking up my big nose. Dip a cotton bud in HV then stuff it up each nostril. Just don’t count on it to block the stink of your Creepy Neighbour’s caramel muffins.
You will never need moisturiser again if you use HV on your face, but it can also be used on eyelashes, cuticles, hair, feet and dehydrated people who are a nuisance to the eye. It will probs make you a Martini if you ask.
Back in Sunday School when the nuns were going on about Mary Magdalene washing Jesus’s feet with oil, I never thought I’d grow up to put rose oil on my face. But I’m addicted to the scent, the texture, the results. The Ordinary’s Rosehip Seed Oil and Derma E’s Rose Cleanser remind me of my Aunt Rose.
Renamed in Dead Glamorous as Irene the Slut (name changed to protect the guilty), Aunt Rose escaped to New York and I fantasised about joining her until a garbage truck reversed into her red Ford Mustang in a freak accident between 5th and Madison.
Aunt Rose had lived a Valley of the Dolls life with no husband but plenty of admirers. I can still hear her say, “If you want to keep your looks drink vodka” as she admired her own reflection in the mirror.
If you want to improve your looks try Dermasuri Rice Milk. Just when you think the Guru can’t surprise you, she pulls off another miracle.
Maddie advised me to marry a minger, so that I’d look “better” by comparison. I didn’t plan to marry anyone since all the married couples I knew hated each others’ hair. (If only they’d been using Color Wow’s Dream Coat!)
But I met Dangerous in a lift and we were married after two dates. He is so not a minger but, like everyone, looks better after a long sleep wearing Voicemail Masque followed by a blast of SDSM 2.
I’m madly in love with SDSM 2 which is green, like my fitba team, and looks so cool in my water pistol which is the best way to blast it over your entire body.
Pneumonia, consumption and blindness didn’t kill me. I have survived my polluted past and am still accused of being 12 when I try to see a twisted movie at the cinema.
Skin is a living organ. It likes to breathe. I’m not a fan of SPF, which makes my face red, so I prance about Soho with a parasol. Some people laugh. Others ask where I bought it.
Normally I sit at my computer in a NIOD masque to protect me from screenburn, but since Survival 0 I’ve been saving the masks for the bath where I can double junkie my new Soapsmith Butter Bath Bomb addiction.
I love Survival 0 SSSFM that I may try Survival 20!! I love Soapsmith SSSFM I use all the bombs in one bath!!
Enough with the exclamation marks. It’s time for the serious bit. Politics is the new melodrama. Crazy K should really be PM. Watching the Daily Politics, Andrew Neil’s face tempts me to jump into the television and force him to try Flavanone Mud. In real life I keep all the NIOD masques for myself so Andy can order his own.
Look away now if you don’t want to read the next bit. I fantasise about rubbing Density Stimuli into George Osborne’s bald patch and watching it shrink. My perverse obsession with Gorgeous George pre-dates my plot to get a column in ES.
I already have two columns so why would I need another one? I already use four face masques but if a new NIOD appears my pore-free face will become hooked as fast as you can say Mastic Must.
Apart from Dangerous, who is not for sale on the VH website; I could have selected almost any of the products as things I thought I could live without but can’t.
Death steals things and memory returns them. The scent of Aurelia Body Serum, Julisis Silver Elixir and the de Mamiel Facial Oil make me want to go on living.
And top of my desert island wish list is perfect pout Lip, because nobody wants to be rescued with lips like a badger’s armpit.
I love you all. But bear in mind I’m two-faced.
Listen to Carole Morin’s evil twin read the Spying on Strange Men audio book