It is increasingly hard to get an appointment with clinical aesthetician Pam Marshall at her London clinic, Mortar and Milk. This is partly because she is really damn good at her job, and partly because many of her clients are, like me, beauty journalists who just can’t shut up about how good at her job she is and therefore encourage everyone to go and see her.
My skin story goes like this: I had acne, lots of it, and as my teenage years grew ever more distant, my skin continued to misbehave with the slightest provocation. I had seen many experts who promised many great things and then failed to deliver, and had resigned myself to being a faithful foundation-wearer until the end of my days. Then Pam stepped in, and did the opposite of all those other experts; rather than tell me she could vanquish my acne forever, she explained that my PCOS was the underlying cause, and that topical skincare, treatments, and good habits would help to keep it under control — but that there was no ‘cure’, so I could get over that fairytale and ignore any marketing ploys telling me otherwise.
I took her advice and, five years later, my skin is better than it has ever been in my adult life, a situation I primarily attribute to Pam and her combination of patient schooling alongside acid-based treatments every three months (which I book far in advance, because of her aforementioned insanely busy schedule).
Over that time, I’ve grilled Pam on so many different facets of skin health, and learned that she is opposed to hype in the extreme, avoiding jumping on bandwagons to satisfy trends, steadfastly not adding new gadgets or treatments unless they are safe and proven to get results.
I was therefore surprised and quite elated on behalf of my skin when Pam called me and said, “Mads, we’re going to launch our first new treatment in years. It’s insanely good. Do you want to try it when you come in.” Yes, obviously I did. In fact, I was so keen that I forgot to ask what the new treatment even did. When I called her back for more information, she said this: “It’s called the Retinol Peel. First, it’ll reduce fine lines and wrinkles because it builds up collagen, elastin, and hyaluronic acid. Your pigmentation will come down, acne will be less persistent, and in general your skin will be bouncier and sort of a little more happy looking.”
She then tacked on a warning: “You will peel, and it’ll begin around two days after I’ve administered the treatment.” That bit wasn’t so convenient, but I decided that my skin falling off was a small price to pay for the superior sheeny bounce she promised, so went for it.
Not only was my skin plump, but my stubborn acne scars had diminished to the extent where I went out to a dinner party without make-up on
The experience of the facial itself wasn’t noteworthy. First Pam prepped my skin with a series of masks, then an infrared laser called Byonik to reduce inflammation and, finally, applied the retinol peel, which Pam asked me to keep on overnight, before washing my face as usual in the morning.
The next day, everything was calm on the surface, but things felt a little warm underneath, as if something was cooking somewhere. It wasn’t painful, though, and I just got on with life as normal. Two days later, I sat surrounded by beauty editors at a launch and had a persistent itch on my chin. When I pulled out a compact mirror to see what was going on, I realised a big section of skin had rolled off, and tried my best to patch it up with concealer, feeling a little like I was in Death Becomes Her.
The peel continued, migrating from chin to nose to cheeks to forehead. I tried not to pull it off (honestly, it was tempting), and used really gentle skincare (Lisa Eldridge’s cleanser, £43, lisaeldridge.com, the Mortar & Milk PHA Serum, £85, mortarandmilk.com, and SPF), and waited. The emerging skin was sensitive, red, new, and I left it to its own devices as it settled.
Fast forward a week, and I realised why Pam had told me it is an absurdly effective treatment: not only was my skin plump and healthy-looking, but many of my stubborn acne scars had diminished to the extent where I went out to a big dinner party without any skin make-up on (anyone who’s ever suffered from acne will understand what a big deal that is).
I would tell you to book in regularly but I am nervous that I won’t be able to get another appointment if you do. So do book in, but space out your visits, please. My skin thanks you in advance.
