The Screaming Mimis

I wrote about Omnilux Light Therapy in the April issue of the (sydney) and (melbourne) magazines:

I steer well clear of the armoury of needles, scalpels, lasers and other appliances that the cosmetic services industry deploys these days in its relentless war on the terror of aging. Going to the dentist is bad enough; I can’t for the life of me imagine why one would willingly pay for pain.

I’m suspicious of anyone touting the latest “weapon”. I’m a Pacifist, in all things, including beauty. I’m not impressed with the rules of engagement. An acquaintance had fifty years of freckles removed from her arms using IPL (Intense Pulsed Light) treatment. While she’s pleased with result, she admits it felt like hundreds of burning cigarettes being pushed into her arms. Some people enjoy being human ashtrays (James Dean most famously) but I don’t share that particular fetish. A therapist assured me IPL wasn’t more painful than having elastic bands lightly flicked over my face. And that’s a selling point? So I have chosen to go AWOL on the matter of IPL. I have learned to love my freckles.

When couple of friends raved about Omnilux Revive light therapy, I resisted trying it for a very long time, dubious about claims that it is non-invasive and pain free. In fact, I had to be virtually taken hostage to road test it. The Omnilux system was developed in Britain as a non-surgical light therapy to treat skin cancer, but soon its benefits for a variety of other skin conditions – such as acne and photo aging – became evident. The machine uses a head that emits thousands of LEDs (light emitting diodes) that do not contain harmful UVA, UVB or infrared radiation. With Omnilux Revive a brilliant red light is used on aging skin, reaching below the epidermis to give a deeper massage than possible with the human hands, stimulating the body’s own collagen to refresh the skin and reduce those pesky “visible signs of aging.” The Omnilux Blue for acne-prone conditions uses, unsurprisingly, a blue light, which stabilises three of the triggers for acne – excess sebum production, inflammation and the growth of bacteria. The twenty-minute treatment is usually paired with a brief salon facial. A course of nine or ten sessions under the lamp, three or four days apart, is generally recommended.

This is how it works: you lie on a bed and a lamp is placed about 10 cm above your head. Goggles are provided although I am assured the light does not damage the eyes. The first red light as the lamp warms up is not so bad. But then the full lamp is turned on and it’s not only bright, it’s so bright, screamingly bright, that you want to close your eyes – but, of course, they are already closed. There’s no escape, the big red blob invades your brain. In my case, I feel like Malcolm McDowell in the torture scene in A Clockwork Orange. I try not to panic and the therapist gives me a hand massage to distract me. The colours soon turn searing yellow and orange and hot pink, like the acid trip I never had as a teenager. It takes all my strength of will not to beg for it to be turned off.

As freaky as this is, there’s no pain factor. In subsequent visits my eyes become more accustomed to the brightness and I actually start to enjoy it. I’m told that many people fall asleep under the lamp and come away with mood uplifted. I find this impossible, but half way through the program I am beginning to see quite definite improvement in the luminosity, firmness and hydration of my skin, especially on my décolletage, which is the most sun-damaged. The full benefits are not experienced until the months after treatment so, as I write this, it’s too soon to tell whether the recommended outlay of around $900 for a 10-session course, taken annually, is worth it (shop around - some salons offer special deals). But that’s less than a series of facials and I like the fact that it’s your own cells doing the repair work. It’s almost natural – less a Star Wars weapon than a little nudge from Mother Earth.