One of the many ways I procrastinate when I should be working is by going on the sites of expensive hotels and “planning” a visit. Even though I know it’ll never happen for real, the detail I go into is extreme – comparing floor plans of different rooms, planning what I’ll have for my breakfast and deciding what treatments I’ll have in the spa.
However, there’s one thing that makes me “cancel” my “booking”: if I stumble across a mention of “pamper” anywhere on the site, I snap my laptop shut and seriously ask myself what I’m doing with my life.
Pamper is truly one of the worst words: it conjures up images of an outrageously spoilt princess, reclining on a bed conjured from unicorn feathers, eating bonbons dipped in fairy dust, when all you might be doing is getting your ronnie bleached.
“Me time” – there’s another one, nearly as bad. It’s patronising and sexist. You’d never see a man being advised to take a little “me time”.
Colossally boring
Which brings me to face masks. They very much occupy “pampering” and “me time” territory. To add insult to injury, they’re generally colossally boring – obliging me to stay frozen in place, unable to read and banned from eating, while the unfragrant gunk hardens on my face. (Followed by an hour and a half, with a face cloth and gallons of hot water, removing it. And still finding bits along my hairline eight days later.)
But this Sisley Black Rose Cream Mask is entirely different: it stays soft and creamy so that I can move my eyes and eat rings around myself (should I so desire.)
Where it really comes into its own is when I’m on book tours and timetables are choppy and sleep is short. If I’ve had a long day and suddenly get 15 precious minutes to myself, I lie down and lash some of this fragrant miracle worker on my clob.
The best description of its effect is that it makes me “bouncy”. It takes my shrivelled skin and returns it plumped and thickened (in a good way). The beautiful smell restores my mood and the overall effect is that I look and feel more awake and alive.
Yes, it’s expensive, and I’m sorry about that. It really is an indulgence and I gift it to people I love who’re going through a hard time. Including myself occasionally. Because – ahem – I’m worth it.
