In the 17 years I’ve been a beauty editor, I have tried fake-tanning in all its forms. I’ve been sprayed professionally in pop-up cubicles everywhere from Los Angeles to my London kitchen, slept in the deepest mousses (a frightening prospect for both my bed linen and my translucent skin) and sheepishly boarded flights trailing that dreaded fake-tan smell. I’ve tried waters, washes, drops, express formulas — the lot.
And while I can’t pretend I’ve ever much enjoyed the process — why would you? — I love the results. There is something about being bronzed that bolsters my confidence in a thrilling way. I feel instantly polished and pulled-together, which in turn lifts my mood. As I have grown older — and a bit softer — I’ve also noticed that a hint of warmth makes me look firmer and more toned, too.
