The New Glamour

“Welcome Madam,” says the beauty consultant, “please sit.” She indicates the closed lid of a toilet seat. I sit.

I’m here to check out Aqua - a new concept in pampering.

“Please choose from our menu madam.” She passes me a small catalogue. AQWA it says on the cover. Inside are illustrations of clothing and all manner of hairdos and make-up products. Aqua, you see, is a total makeover experience.

“These are our coats. And here are our gowns.” There are pictures of sumptuous Cindarella style garments. I indicate a couple that I prefer. “But first we will do your hair and make-up.” Flicking through we peruse the hairstyles. I choose one.

Now my consultant pulls and grips my hair into a tight bunch on the side of my head. It falls out a couple of times because my hair is still on the short side but she perseveres until she is happy with the look. To frame my face she adds a bright pink silk flower clip.

“Please choose a colour.” She sweeps her hand expansively towards a long rank of nail varnish pots - some are glittery, most are nearly empty. The slim shelf almost groans under the weight of its toxic load. I opt for a nail polish that I have brought myself. It’s a coppery pink by SpaRitual, one of the less hazardous brands. My consultant dabs it delicately onto my fingernails.

Make-up comes next. I choose a burgundy red lipstick. The lipstick is applied and the therapist inspects her work with satisfaction. “The most important thing about this lipstick,” she tells me, “is don’t do this.” She rubs her lips together.

“Why ever not?”

“Because it tastes horrible.”

Next, a brown eye shadow is applied. As a finishing touch she rubs some kind of pink light reflecting cream all over one side of my face. “Hmmm,” she says with a thoughtful squint, “I think it would look better if we put it on both sides.”

Makeover complete I am led to a mirror for the big reveal. I gaze at my altered image. An escapee from a locked ward stares back at me.

“It’s beautiful Eloise,” I say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome aunty Lily. Can we go to Pizza Express now?”

Colour me Beautiful

“Hmmm,” I peer at my reflection in the salon mirror, “I don’t think this is quite the effect I was after.” Malvina, a young colourist at Kell Skott Haircare, looks at me with a deflated and slightly puzzled air. My hair is a kind of cat’s-pee yellow with grey spots. “Shall I do it again?” Malvina offers.

On arrival I asked Malvina to colour my hair with vegetable dye. “OK,” she replied, “it contains no peroxide so it will last one or two washes.” I did a fast cost-ratio calculation, weighing up the pros and cons of vegetable dye. On the con side is the prospect of having to fork out for hairdressing every two weeks. On the pro side is the fact that vegetable dyes do not contain harmful chemicals, I think, though didn’t I read somewhere that they contain metals? And are the chemicals in hair dye harmful? At that precise moment I could not recall any specific information. I made a mental note to do proper research about the hazards of hair colours. “I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “We can do a semi-permanent with one per-cent peroxide,” Malvina suggested, “it won’t last as long but I think it will be safer to make it weak.”

Now, as I study the blotchy, bilious result, I do feel sympathy for her. Following chemotherapy baldness my hair is about an inch long all over but it is uneven in distribution, colour and texture. It is thick at the back and thin at the front, silver on the tips and dark underneath, quite wiry on top but soft as velvet on the sides. I guess it is a hair colourist’s nightmare.

Lottie, the admirably practical sister on the chemo unit, told me that when my hair grows to about three inches long I should have it all cut off again. “The first growth will be rubbish,” she informed me making decisive snapping scissor gestures with her fingers.

But for now, it’s all I’ve got and I intend to work it. “Why don’t you try it with more peroxide?” I instruct Malvina.

After another forty-five minutes of dyeing and washing and a lot of checking on the part of the colourist, I emerge from the salon with a chic, sleek head of dark, shiny chestnut brown.

I buzz home. Just as I’ve put the kettle on Issy is a-knockin at my door. She’s come for the latest instalment in a series of photos that she is taking as I progress through my chemo odyssey. “Oh my god!” exclaims Issy. “What?!” say I. “You hair. It’s beautiful.” “Really?” I reply, fishing, “you don’t think I look like Mr Spock?”

From her bag, Issy produces skull-print scarves in a range of vogueish colours. "I'm following your lead," she says, "everyone is getting skull scarves for Christmas." I accept the implied compliment like a hypocrite. I haven't bought one single skull scarf for anybody for Christmas.

Issy takes the photographs in the same manner every time – against a blank background, first with a bare face and then with make-up. Today I try to reproduce the dramatic eye make-up that the lovely make-up artist at the Made For Life day showed me how to do. I start with a peachy pink base then layer on a smoky brown, dark chocolate liner and then, hallelujah... mascara! My eyelashes are back. They’re short. They’re stumpy. But they are real and they are mine.

Issy tells me that I will be able to see all the photos at her MA degree show in March. In the beginning, when my hair was falling out, my confidence was at its nadir and I imagined myself being judged by friends and strangers, I was very hesitant about being photographed at all. Now I feel an interested and pleasant anticipation at the prospect of revisiting my whole journey through the medium of Issy’s photographs.

After Issy leaves I realise that I was so involved with admiring my painted lashes that I forgot to apply the pink lipstick. I pray that Issy will not fail her MA on account of this.

The next arrival on my doorstep is Justin. You may recall that Justin has had his magpie eye on my red skull scarf for some months. This morning I washed it and hung it on the radiator to dry. “This is for you Justin, happy Christmas,” I say, handing him the crumpled scarf. That skull scarf had become emblematic of everything that this blog is about. It was the totem of Chemo Chicness. I had considered buying an identical scarf at the Indian shop and palming Justin off with the duplicate. But now I see the error of that thinking. Justin positively beams at me. “Lily, are you sure? Wow. I’m made up!” he exclaims. The skull scarf has done its service with me. It feels right to pass it on.

Oh My God, It’s Nearly Christmas!

I have been consumed with the anticipation of finishing radiotherapy treatment today and then jetting off to the sunshine. I depart from Heathrow on Christmas Eve and arrive in Sydney on Boxing Day. Thus Christmas Day, for me, has been vaporised.

But not for you... I receive an email from Eleanor asking what she might give her breast cancer afflicted friend for Christmas.

Here are my top tips.

If your friend is having or is about to have chemotherapy she will probably lose her hair. A soft cotton or silk sleeping cap is a necessity both for catching falling hairs and for keeping her bald little head warm in the cold winter nights. Similarly, a cotton beanie is great for wearing around the house. If it’s freezing outside, she can don a cashmere hat over the top of the beanie.

Just because your friend has cancer doesn’t mean she can’t be drop-dead glamorous. Get her a velvet turban for topping off dramatic evening looks. If you want to splash out, an Hermès scarf is a gift that will be fabulous for a lifetime and then be handed down to her daughter.

Cancer treatments can be very drying to the skin. Here are three products that she will thank you for: Spiezia organic rose and vanilla face oil; enriched hand cream by Absolute Organics and organic foot softening balm by Saaf. I found myself keeping tubes of lip balm everywhere that I went - in my handbag, in the car and by the bed. Burt’s Bees do a three-pack of their lovely beeswax balms.

Your friend will be spending a lot of time lying on the couch. A pair of cashmere socks or a luxurious cashmere throw will make her feel more like a reclining princess that a languishing invalid. A subscription to Lovefilm is like giving a present every week.

There’s not much that you can do about the fact that everything she eats will taste revolting. But even at my most ill I could always manage to force down a bar of Green & Black’s Mint Chocolate. Alternatively, if your friend is of the 'all sugar is poisonous' camp then Sanchi Furikake Japanese Seasoning and Clearspring Ume Plum Seasoning are a couple of condiments that will lively up her brown rice.

What with feeling sick all the time and the thought of food being enough to turn one's stomach there are few pleasures left in life. Things that smell nice will give her a lift. Either a divine scented candle or a bottle of gorgeous Weleda bath milk is a sensory treat.

Reading trolley loads of cancer memoirs, cancer cures and cancer diets can be overwhelming, not to mention tedious. If your friend is the kind of person who likes to help herself there is one book that I would recommend: Your Life in Your Hands by Professor Jane Plant.

When your friend finally does haul her backside off the sofa, encourage her to go out dancing. To distract from the fact that she is bald a really bright lipstick and a pair of drop-dead chandelier earrings are in order.

If you're feeling super-indulgent, here are the most outstanding anti-cancer gifts that I have received. First, a Champion Juice Extractor (thank you Flossie). With this you friend will have life-giving, energising juice of the highest quality every day to keep her going. Add in a weekly organic fruit and veg box for good measure. And an aeroplane ticket (thank you Mr P), dated for two weeks after the end of her treatment will give her something to look forward to throughout her darkest days.

Finally, the best gift you can give is your friendship at a lonely and frightening time in her life. Make a commitment to visit once a week. Whilst you’re there make her a cup of anti-nausea ginger tea, cook her dinner, water the plants and take out the rubbish.

Gorgeous Organics

I just heard about something fabulous. It’s an organic pampering day for women who have been diagnosed with cancer.

The event, called Made For Life Day is being organised by Spiezia Organics, a Cornish company that makes lovely organic beauty products. The founders of Spiezia Organics have an ethos of giving back, so have established Made For Life to offer support and advice to women suffering from cancer.

At the Made For Life Day there will be mini treatments: massage; Reiki; hair and wig advice and organic beauty makeovers as well as cups of organic tea and, no doubt, much organic bonhomie.

Here are the details:

Made For Life

Supporting Women With Cancer

Friday 11^th December 2009

1pm – 6pm

Paul d’Auria Cancer Support Centre

20 – 22 York Road

London SW11 3QA

To book, contact Verité Reily Collins, tel: 020 7351 4434 or email: verite@greenbee.net

I hear that they have space for thirty women, so get in there quick.

Oh, I forgot to mention, it’s completely free!

Chemo Chic Videos

I’ve had a go at making some videos. The first ones are about make-up. Let me know if you like them and I’ll do some more.

About Brows

My hair is still just fuzz. But day-by-day the fuzz grows thicker.

No sign of eyelashes or eyebrows yet, despite diligent daily application of Revitalash. I manage to create an eyelash illusion by smudging a fine dark line of powder along my upper lids. I am amazed at what a difference eyebrows make to one’s appearance. They enliven expression. Without eyebrows one takes on the blank look of a sci-fi Alien. To see a graphic illustration of how important eyebrows are in defining one’s face have a look at the online version of the Times Chemo Chic article. Accompanying the article there is a photo of some show-offy woman with only one eyebrow applied. You can see the difference between the two sides of her face.

I have been smudging them on freehand using L’Oréal Brow & Duo eyeshadow which has a good palette of browns. It is tricky to get them beginning and ending in the right place, arching evenly and at the same height. A small, soft brush and a steady hand are essential.

I recall that Shavata do an eyebrow stencil kit. These are paper squares with cut out shapes that one places on one’s brow to fill in with a pencil or brush. The different shapes are named after the most famous brows of the century: the Kylie; the Liz; the Grace and, of course, the Brooke.

A friend of mine had her eyebrows tattooed on when she had chemo a few years ago. Now she has to have them refreshed every year.

A reader in Australia emails me with a link to a website called Chemo Chicks. After taking a few moments to get over my chagrin I click on and find a marvellous development for the eyebrowless. It’s a mask with cut out eyebrow shapes and an elastic strap to hold it onto one’s face. This means that one has both hands free to expertly apply eyebrows that will be at the same height as one other. Chemo Chicks is based in the USA so ordering the mask before you start chemo would be my tip.

I’ve left it a bit late so will have to persevere with my wobbly brush and powder method.

Watering Cans at Dawn

At 7.30 a.m. I am awoken by a text:

Are u up yet? I want to come over and water the plants.

Jamie has been my friend for a number of years and, until this minute, I have never known him to be out of bed before midday.

Full of beans and acting as if he springs joyously into life every morning at the crack of dawn, Jamie bustles around with the watering can whilst I stagger about in the bathroom. Once I’ve managed to struggle into clean clothes and apply make-up, Jamie has made tea. He squints a professional eye at me. “If you’re not going to wear mascara you should put some smudgy dark shadow along your eyelids.” I nip back into the bathroom and try it. He’s right, you know.

C15th Chemo Chic!

I decide not to wear mascara today. Nearly all my eyelashes have fallen out now. Painting two or three odd lashes here and there just looks silly. To make matters worse, I’ve lost more on the right eye than on the left. So applying mascara creates a somewhat Clockwork Orange effect.

I find that my eyebrows look more natural when filled in with light coloured powder and a soft brush. I just touch the brush very lightly along the brow line. An eyebrow pencil makes a harsher mark. When there are not many hairs to blend it into it creates a hard line that looks phoney.

Once there was a time when having no brows or lashes was all the rage.

Rogier van der Weyden c.1435 Lady wearing a Gauze Headdress

Rogier van der Weyden 1455 Portrait of a Lady

Portrait of Mary of Burgundy C15

Minnie's Make-Up Bonanza

The phone rings: “Darling! What are you doing? Come over for tea.”

My friend Minnie is a style commentator of some note. She has just returned from three months of travelling, working a punishing schedule on several continents. So obviously she feels the urgent need to empty and reorganise her bathroom cupboards.

By the time I arrive she’s well and truly stuck into it. The bathroom has taken on the atmosphere of Selfridges’ sale. Cosmetics are lined up in neat ranks on every available surface. Rows of bronzers fall in next to flanks of blushers. Lipsticks line up on the edge of the bath. Foundations march in formation across the floor. Minnie is nothing if not methodical. “I find this is therapeutic. In fact it’s a form of meditation,” says Minnie, “I don’t think it’s an illness.” She looks at me pointedly.

“Anyway darling, tell me all about it.” I cast my eyes around, uncertain where to start so Minnie jumps in to help me out. “Have you lost weight?” “Yes,” I reply, somewhat embarrassed. I’m about to add: “but I’m eating lots of cheese and chocolate to put it back on” however Minnie gets there first. “Well it’s fabulous. That anorexic look really suits you.” Minnie is well known and admired for her forthrightness.

“Do you find you’re wearing different clothes?” she asks. I consider. “I have a small number of outfits that I feel good in. They’re smart but comfortable. I’m wearing lots of leggings and dresses.” “What about your colours. Have they changed?” asks Minnie. “Well yes, I’d say they have. I hardly ever wear black now. I’m drawn to brighter, clearer colours and not so much to the sludgier ones.” I’m really getting interested in this conversation. It is fascinating to me to observe the way that Minnie dissects the pathology of cancer style with professional expertise, in much the same way as the surgeon dissects and analyses the cancer itself. No sentiment, just the facts: “And your tailoring? Is it softer?” Her insight is remarkable. “Why yes!” I reply. Only the other day I found myself wistfully fingering long, drapey cardigans in Phase Eight, a shop whose door I would never have darkened B.C.

Because of her high profile job, Minnie gets given stacks of freebie make-up and beauty products. In the end it is more than one woman could ever use. It’s more than the entire cabaret at Madam Jo-Jos could ever use. And it’s not the cheap stuff either. There are multiples of Nars blushers, Chanel eyeshadows, Dior lipsticks...

“Anyway darling, what would you like?” My eyes bulge with greed and confusion. “You’ll need something to give you a glow” says Minnie handing me a tube of Laura Mercier tinted moisturiser. “How about some foundation? I think this is your colour.” She dabs Crème de la Mer base under my eyes. “I think you should have a bronzer.” I’m hesitant, “I wouldn’t know how to wear bronzer” I reply, concerned that I’m going to end up resembling Dale Winton. She grabs a box of Hoola by Benefit. “I’ve been using it a lot lately. It’s great for those fagged out moments in the middle of the day. Always tap the brush so that you don’t overdo it. Put it on everywhere that the sun would hit,” she applies the brown powder to my forehead, cheekbones, chin and nose, “always put some on your neck as well so you don’t get that big contrast between your face and your throat.”

“Would you like some false eyelashes?” “Hmmm,” I reply, “I think I’d better not. I’d be worried that the glue might pull my few remaining eyelashes out.” “Darling,” she replies, “I had those semi-permanent eyelash extensions and afterwards nearly all my eyelashes fell out. What you must go for when this all over is Latisse. It costs $180 but it makes your lashes grow thicker and darker.” “Wow,” I reply, “does it work?” She bats a luxuriant eyelid at me. “There’s a risk that it can make your blue eyes turn brown. You could get Revitalash or Neulash. They only cost $100.”

As I write this it’s 2.30 a.m. and I’m still researching eyelash growth promoters. Here is what I’ve learned so far...

Latisse is only available on prescription. Latisse, Revitalash and Neulash all contain prostaglandins. Prostaglandins are hormone-like substances that, amongst other things, control the dilation and constriction of blood vessels. The particular substances in these products were developed to treat glaucoma but in tests it was observed that the eyelashes also grew excessively. So the prostaglandins were subverted for cosmetic use by Allergan Inc, the people who brought you Botox. By all accounts the products do work. People are raving about them on the internet. But one known side effect is that they can change the colour of your irises – permanently.

I come across a fascinating website: truthinaging.com. They’ve tested lots of eyelash products and done useful research on many of them.

These eyelash fertilisers are strong drugs. Before I even think about using any of them, I feel I should ask my oncologist, Suzy Cleator, for her opinion. If I get the ok I will try some of them out and get back to you with the results.

So back to the story... By now, Minnie has applied to my face: moisturiser; foundation; bronzer; blusher; lipstick and eyeliner, all on top of the make-up I was wearing already.

“Well if you can't have the eyelashes here’s a nice pencil to fill in your eyebrows.” She feathers on small strokes with a Givenchy eyebrow pencil. Minnie then gets a huge shopping bag and piles in a couple of bottles of St Tropez, “you need a bit of colour on your legs darling,” some Proto-Col facial gel, A bottle of Bliss Thinny Thin Chin “to firm up your jawline”, four Clinique lips glosses, Nars creme blusher “for emergency cheek colour,” Terry Peace & Glow draining concentrate, “you need this for those puffy bags under your eyes.” “What puffy bags under my eyes?” “Those ones right there,” she says, jabbing them with the Peace & Glow. Minnie throws in a tube of Sisley Eye Contour Mask and a phial of Benefit undereye brightening cream just to make the point.

Things I got for free today:

A huge bag of make-up and face creams, too numerous and fabulous to list.

Freebie Foundation

I’ve run out of my MAC Select Tint foundation. I like that one because it is easy to apply with fingers and has a slightly satin finish - flattering to the more mature visage. I don’t really have spare cash to be spending on expensive make-up right now. Luckily, I have my ‘Look Good, Feel Better’ freebie goody bag to hand. Inside there’s an Age Re-Perfect Vita Collagen foundation by L’Oreal. It’s quite thick and cakey compared with the MAC. But the colour is right. I dilute a dab of it with a squirt of Elizabeth Arden’s Let There Be Light Radiant Skin Lotion that I found lurking in the back of the bathroom cupboard. Perfection. So now I have a really nice new foundation plus the satisfaction of bragging that I invented it myself. For free. Thank you L’Oreal.

It seems that MAC don’t participate in the Look Good, Feel Better programme. I wonder why not? Perhaps I will write to them.

Perhaps you could write to them too?

Look Good, Feel Better

To Harley Street for a make-up workshop. The cosmetics industry has its own cancer charity Look Good, Feel Better. I’m sure that some Fleet Street whizz kid could come up with a snappier title but their intentions are honourable: to give women the wherewithal to look good and hence feel better even though their hair has fallen out, their skin is dry, their nails are brittle, they have acne and they feel sick all the time.

Anne at the Macmillan Centre booked me in a few weeks ago. At the time I hadn’t yet come to appreciate how important the timing of everything is in relation to one’s chemo cycle. It is fortunate that this has worked out well. My next chemo session is tomorrow which means that this is the last day of the cycle. So I feel quite chipper today. A make-up workshop is just what I need to pick me up after this week’s horrible hair trauma.

I am shown into a smart room where a gang of women in varying stages of baldness are seated around a polished mahogany boardroom table. One could be forgiven for assuming that the Addams Family have taken over the management of the HCA Hospital Group.

Helpful assistants show me to my seat at the table and provide me with a sticky name tag and a cup of tea. Conversation around the table is desultory. I get the feeling that most of the women here are not overbrimming with self-confidence. In fact, it is quite possible that they feel ashamed of looking the way they do. I know that I have those feelings. And that’s why we are here.

After attempting to strike up chats with the ladies opposite I busy myself by fiddling with the cotton buds and lip brushes that are laid out in front of us. We are each given a very large goodie bag and admonished not to open it yet. But some of the ladies simply cannot wait.

Stephan bustles in, an immaculately groomed gentleman of a certain age. He is the workshop leader-du-jour. His model arrives. She is pretty with smooth skin. I judge her to be in her late twenties. I guess that she has cancer too. Stephan has a good line in patter and begins to put everyone at ease. I feel the atmosphere in the room relax a notch.

Beginning with cleansing and toning Stephan takes us through the Look Good, Feel Better 12 Step Programme. It is a concept that is strangely familiar to me. Pretty soon we are all laughing and chatting and ripping the cellophane off our free beauty products. I may not necessarily agree with all of Stephan’s methods (too much blusher!) but that is hardly the point. Look Good, Feel Better is about giving women a lift in their darkest days. I leave the building smiling and feeling immensely cheered up.

Things I got for free today:

L’Oreal Re Nourish Cleansing Milk

L’Oreal Re Nourish Velvety Toner

Garnier Clean & Fresh eye make-up remover

Vichy Thermal Fix UV moisturiser

Lancôme Hydra Zen Yeux eye contour gel (always welcome)

No 7 Colour Calming make-up base (the green stuff)

Rimmel Hide the Blemish concealer

L’Oreal Age Re Perfect Vita Collagen foundation (great! I’ve nearly run out of my MAC foundation)

No 7 Perfect Light translucent loose powder

L’Oreal Brow & Duo Eyeshadow (really useful)

Clinique Colour Surge eyeshadow duo

Max Factor Flawless Perfection blush

Yves Saint Laurent Dessin Des Lèvres Lip Liner (I was wanting one of these)

Max Factor Modernist Pink lipstick

Chanel Sensation lipstick

Cover Girl Lash Exact mascara

Sarah Jessica Parker Lovely Eau de Parfum shimmer spray (will make an excellent prize for my charity tombola)