Facing the Price of Eternal Youth

There’s a sexy new world of nips and tucks, but the lifting still comes from your wallet

By Shana Ting Lipton
Published: Mar 01, 2008

In the not-so-distant future, physical and aesthetic well-being—not just finances—could be measured by how much we have in the bank. The stem cell bank, that is. A New York Times article last month described how a company called Cryo-Cell International intends to collect and store stem cells contained in menstrual fluid for future use. As a woman ages, she would have access to customizable tissue on-the-spot that could increase her longevity and—as some recent med journal articles indicate—rejuvenate skin. Talk about feeding off the blood of one’s, well, extremely young.

The anti-aging market has advanced and matured. The facelift has gone the way of acid washed jeans. Beyond the odd and alien denizens of Planet Jackson and Alpha CenTori Spelling, the look of even the most benign of nips and tucks just seems plain retro. The above-mentioned biotech treatments, along with the non-invasive surgery trend and natural remedies are ushering in a host of new anti-aging solutions. Would-be financiers and eternal Lolitas take heed: anti-aging products are part of the fastest growing arm of today’s cosmeceutical market. Not everyone is willing to spend $600 on a pair of Jimmy Choos, but on a round or two of Botox? Pull out the Visa.

Yet, were it not for its end results—facially and fiscally—the eternal youth biz might have the same macabre feel to it as a Stephen King novel. The wildly popular Cougar Classic, Botox is, after all, essentially re-rationed, re-branded botulism. Then there are the sheep embryo injections that celebs like veteran rocker Debbie Harry tout. Actually, Clinique La Prairie in Switzerland—an anti-aging Mecca for the elite—has been shooting clients up with sheep fetus for decades. Charlie Chaplin, a purported patient, was said to have, not so sheepishly, taken his shots to the derrière. In 2007, Quincy Bioscience introduced Prevagen, an anti-aging supplement made from jellyfish. At a time when reports of Domoic Acid and mercury in the ocean arrive daily, one can’t help but wonder about the wisdom of ingesting—or investing in—the invertebrate.

Not all the choices are so extreme. Medics and beauticians are also jumping in bed together in the name of anti-aging. Medical spas are the fastest growing segment of the multi-billion dollar global spa industry. Even the Chinese (despite all clichés regarding their eternally youthful genes) are getting in on the action. JJB/Jade Pharmaceutical just inked a deal to re-brand over 100 clinics in China as JPGreen Anti-Aging & Spa Clinics. Lead-based paint is apparently out; while Goodnak (their exclusive anti-aging product) is in.

Lately, the money-making, mogul-approved MonaVie seems to have more cache (emphasis on the cash) than a cabana at the Chateau Marmont. Its main ingredient: Brazil’s açai berry. Its main proponent: CBS and Viacom king pin Sumner Redstone, 84, who called it “a miracle drug,” offering samples to pals Bill Clinton and Wolfgang Puck. Its marketing platform—urging people like you and me to become resellers of the product— feels a bit like Herbalife for the wired generation. One friend of mine was recently invited to a “MonaVie mixer.” Another tried the purple berry blend and awoke the next morning with a rash. Not quite the “Brazilian” she had expected.

It all recalls the ‘90s comedy Death Becomes Her. Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn play vain actresses who discover a forever-young potion. But there is a spiritual price for immortality. While the two women fight, compete and literally wreck each other’s bodies to the point of no repair, their love interest (Bruce Willis) opts to age gracefully and happily. Moral of this story: if you consider yourself part of the era of conscious investment, the anti-aging market may not be for you. Ultimately, as the saying goes, you can’t put a price tag on happiness.

When she's not writer mooning, Nora Zelevansky also contributes to Salon, The Washington Post, C Magazine, Allure and more. "Print Presents"—commemorating the sweat and tears behind this article's publication—are the least you can do.

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