<\/p>\n
Because she happily admits she\u2019s never that consistent, she can\u2019t really know whether or not the product is worth it. It\u2019s either radical transparency on the part of its manufacturer or a brilliant marketing tactic.<\/p>\n
For those willing to put in the time, the supposed effects can mean a longer window between expensive dermatologist appointments (for the one-time cost of an expensive device). Laurence Newman, the CurrentBody CEO<\/a> and cofounder, admits that even the most sophisticated tools can\u2019t replace professional help, but contends that they \u201chave their own little space in the beauty industry\u201d. In my apartment, however, they\u2019re occupying considerably more than \u201ctheir own little space\u201d.<\/p>\n I squeeze the Ziip Halo<\/a> \u2013 a petite microcurrent device, which I enjoy meditatively running along my jawline \u2013 into my medicine cabinet. And the Laduora Duo<\/a> \u2013 a vibrating Swiss Army knife of a hairbrush \u2013 is discreet enough to keep in a high-traffic area. Unfortunately, bulkier devices are less easily stashed. The LED masks are piled high in a corner of my living room and the helmet sits on a sidetable looking like something out of a hi-tech production of Hamlet. Alas, poor Yorick. He would have loved cell rejuvenation.<\/p>\n I do too. But I can\u2019t keep this up: I\u2019m charging so many gadgets in the kitchen I have to unplug my food processor. Evan Rieder, a New York-based dual board-certified physician in dermatology and psychiatry, gives me permission to let most of them go.<\/p>\n \u201cIn general, I say if you have the time and the money, [these tools] are probably not going to hurt,\u201d he says, but most devices \u201cdon\u2019t have that much data behind them\u201d. He advises patients to commit to the most rigorously tested, potent and boring anti-ageing protocol around: sunscreen, a prescription retinol and in-office procedures such as Botox and lasers.<\/p>\n