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YOUTH AT ANY PRICE
At North America's biggest anti-aging show, Allen Abel finds the fountain of youth. It comes in a syringe.

Text: ALLEN ABEL

DR. STEPHEN MULHOLLAND TAKES A SMALL HYPODERMIC NEEDLE IN his left hand and injects into the forehead of a middle-aged woman a clear liquid derived from an organism that, if swallowed in sufficient quantity, could render her grievously sick and possibly dead. Ideally, it will paralyze the surrounding facial muscles, making frowning and squinting - and the worry lines and wrinkles that accompany them - physically impossible.

"People come to me and say, 'I have a marital problem - Botox will fix it.' Or 'I need a promotion - Botox will get it for me,'" pronounces Mulholland, a cosmetic plastic surgeon, as he squeezes off another round of Clostridium botulinum.

"Well, it's not good for fixing your life. It's good for frown lines."

It's a rare moment of clarity on a weekend last January when Mulholland with his syringes, and others with their various treatments, transplants and ointments, are selling the fantasy of youth.

They’re in Toronto for New You 2002, the biggest consumer "anti-aging show" in North America. New You is based on a simple premise – that there is something fundamentally wrong with being plain Old Me.

For most of human history, elderhood was a rare blessing to be honoured and celebrated, not effaced. But modern society equates a wrinkled brow with obsolescence, not wisdom. Wielding a sharpened scalpel, 20th-century surgeons invented facelifts, tummy tucks and Cher. Now a less invasive day has dawned; it is the age of chemical treatments that eradicate wrinkles – the Holy Grail of the cosmetics industry.

Mulholland, a 41-year-old former trauma surgeon and minor-league hockey player (which are not necessarily the same thing) surveys the passing throngs and tells me, "They are looking for a magic bullet. Something that brings back the harmony between the way they look and the way they feel. They want to display the external cutaneous manifestation of internal youth." "What’s wrong with normal human appearance?" I ask him. "This is for Baby Boomers," he replies. "They want to control every aspect of their environment. To Baby Boomers, rules like normal aging do not apply."

New You 2002 features dozens of Canadian vendors proferring self-improvement products like the Wash ’n’ Wear Face, which involves injecting syringes of coloured mineral pigments beneath the skin to create the illusion of permanent eyeshadow, lip liner or eyebrows. LumaLight is a flashlight with seven screw-on tinted lenses which, when shone on the face, reportedly provides relief from a long list of maladies, including learning disabilities and undefined emotional and physical pains. Should this inexplicably fail, a nearby counter features the Magnetic Beauty Mask, a Hannibal Lecter-like contraption in fashionable mauve for the special show price of only $95.

Not young enough yet? A pill called ReviFace is said to (possibly, after two to four months of daily use) reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles. LexLips cream claims to (possibly, with time) produce "Full, Luscious, Kissable Lips." There’s also Oxygen Water ("Clean and Light Tasting!"), the Tibetan Treatment ("Ancient Rejuvenation Therapy") and the Magnetic Energy Cup ("Magnetize Your Liquids – Supercharge Your Health!").

One vendor hands me a free sample of Viacrème ("Helping Venus align with Mars"), to be applied to the female apparatus for two or three minutes prior to conjugal festivities, opening the nitric oxide pathway to fulfillment and bliss. The pitchman adds a personal testimonial that I record under the heading of "Too Much Information": "I will tell you that my wife is quite satisfied. She uses the product every day, whether we have relations or not."

But all of this is secondary to the real meat and potatoes of New You 2002: the injectables. Botox is hailed as a miracle by both patients and professionals: It works, and it doesn’t last very long. Return visits are required every few months at about $400 per shot. Sales of Botox are expected to reach US$1-billion – triple the 2001 figure – by 2006.

Other syringes of youth include collagen injections, which plump up unsightly creases with tiny globules of animal by-products (from cows or roosters) or synthetic chemicals. These go by a multiplicity of names – Artecoll, Restylane, Hylaform, Zyderm – but all come with the same non-surgical promise: a reversal of the calendar, a laissez-passer to the perfect face.

I discover that even men as antiquated as I am (and older!) can benefit from the stuff. During one demonstration, 58-year-old George Kouri submits to a series of injections at the outer corners of his eyes. (It will take a few days for any effects to be noticeable.) The fact that he has come to New You 2002 wearing a Versace overcoat, an Armani suit, a pure cashmere scarf and a Cartier watch indicates that Kouri is a gentleman to whom outward appearances are important.

"I like to spend the extra money to look good," he confirms. "If this stuff helps, I would definitely go back and do it. Why not look good and feel better for less than the cost of a pair of shoes?"