Microneedling: Everything You Need To Know About Victoria Beckham’s Go-To Skin Treatment

Should we be booking in for VB's favourite beauty treatment?

Microneedling

by Annie Vischer |

Microneedling has been around for a while but how much do we really know about this skin treatment? What is microneedling and how does it work? A microneedling procedure involves a dermaroller, a skin tool that makes very small punctures in the surface of the skin. These tiny punctures cause your skin to produce more collagen (which is why the treatment is often called collagen induction therapy). The increase in collagen in the skin means that skin is likely to look firmer, smoother and more toned in time after the treatment. Microneedling is minimally invasive and only likely to cause a little redness and some irritation, which means zero downtime. How long does an average microneedling appointment last? Normally around two hours depending on your practitioner. It's worth noting too that most practitioners advise clients to book in for a course of sessions rather than just one for best results.

Microneedling is clearly a celebrity favourite, with the likes of Victoria Beckham taking to Instagram to rave about their sessions. VB visited Nilam Holmes this week, a renowned skin and beauty expert and consultant, for her most recent microneedling appointment. Her caption on Instagram stories read 'This is amazing! Microneedling with a vitamin cocktail! @nilamholmes and @dermaspa_mk'.

Nilam Holmes too took to Instagram to explain Victoria Beckham's favoured microneedling treatment further:

'The Skin Pen makes hundreds of thousands of micro holes into the skin which then induces a natural repair mechanism. (Our body rushes blood and growth factors to the skin to generate new collagen and elastin)..therefore the treatment is organic and relies solely on your body to do the work. It is my go to treatment for refining skin texture, excellent for improving scarring, pigmentation, fine lines, large pores, skin laxity and crepey skin. Here for Victoria I have 'needled' in a medical grade hyaluronic acid and vitamin cocktail into the skin to enhance results.'

I always advise microneedling is carried out by a qualified practitioner who will identify your concerns and tailor make your treatment to your skin and concerns

'The skin looks pink for up to 36 hours and no makeup or products can be applied for up to 24 hours. The skin can be dry and flaky for up to 7 days but clients start to see a beautiful glow after 10 days and real results within 30 days...with new collagen formation taking approx 3 months. The treatment doesn't hurt as a numbing cream is applied for 30 min prior to desensitise the skin. I always advise microneedling is carried out by a qualified practitioner who will identify your concerns and tailor make your treatment to your skin and concerns. The skin pen device is FDA cleared and carries medical certification.'

The Tweakment Tart: Microneedling Hurts But It’s Worth The Pain

Tweakment Tart
©Microneedling

Are vanity and shame connected? And what do they have to do with poreless, glowy skin? Polly Vernon investigates...

I’m getting my face microneedled by Renee Lapino, when the issue of vanity pops up. Microneedling is not a comfortable pursuit. It involves your face being repeatedly punctured by a system of tiny little needles attached to the nib of a whirring, buzzing drill-like contraption, which is wielded by an aesthetician who calls it a ‘pen’, because that’s nicer than ‘drill’. Nicer and less dental. Micro-needling starts off not hurting at all – partly because your aesthetician will numb your face with cream for a minimum of 20 minutes in advance (and if they don’t, they hate you); partly because they will generally begin by treating your cheek, where the skin is much thicker, less close to the bone and therefore less sensitive. So yeah. Early days microneedling: nay bother. A heavy, intense tickling sensation, at worst. Ah, but wait! After the cheek, comes the chin, which is bonier, and thus, ouchier, after that, the temples and forehead (bonier and ouchier still), and last of all, the under eyes and OH GOD MAKE IT STOP! The nose. THE NOSE!

‘You’re doing great,’ Renee reassures me. My eyes are streaming and I can’t remember the last time I properly breathed, but she’s got an incredible, soothing, deep South accent, and her dream of a sausage dog, Macy, snoozes enchantingly on my feet, so I reckon I’ll survive. Although actually, the thing that really gets me through the most excruciating moments of the treatment, is that I’ve had it before and I know it really works. By forcing the skin to heal around the punctures, microneedling forces a surge in collagen production which reduces pores, lifts and tightens anything the has had the audacity to sag and/or droop, and gives excellent glow (any product applied in the direct aftermath will penetrate better than usual, on account of those punctures). Five days after this treatment, once some sunburn-like redness has faded, and I’ve endured some flaking, my skin will look heavenly, for some time, and the thought of that alone takes the edge of the pain.

‘I’m so vain, I welcome pain,’ I tell Renee.

‘Brits are my only clients who ever talk about vanity,’ Renee replies. ‘No one else bothers. It’s just not a thing. It’s like, for us non-Brits, wanting to look nice is on a level with wanting good health. Nothing you feel you should apologise for, or explain. Why would you?’

I contemplate this, as she continues her infernal buzzing over the tip of my nose. Stressing about our vanity does sound like the kind of thing Brits – and only Brits - would do: a niche and unnecessary way to beat ourselves up yet again. It is also, clearly, an absurd thing to apologise to an aesthetician about. If I weren’t concerned by my appearance, I’d hardly be submitting to her attentions, would I now? Also, it ties into an on-going internal monologue I’ve been brewing with myself (who else?); one which concerns shame. The compulsion and social pressure to be ashamed and secretive about cosmetic tweakments specifically: but by extension, my experience of shame on a more general level. Lately, I’ve been wondering if maybe I’ve felt enough shame for a lifetime already – got it out the way early, as it were – and, now? It’s time to just… give it up. Should I? Could I? Can one just decide to mug shame off?

Renee finishes with the needling, congratulates me on my eye liner (it’s Pat McGrath Labs, and despite my leaking pain-tears for the last 10 minutes straight, it hasn’t budged), and pops me under the calming light setting on her UV face mask, which I realise is something else my vanity helps me to endure, because I’m rather claustrophobic, which means that UV masks can seem like they’re entombing my face in a tight-fitting, panic-provoking case of fear. Maybe vanity is useful? An unexpectedly vital support through pain and anxiety? Or is it just shame, all dressed up in mean girl’s clothing?

Microneedling costs from around £150-£500 per session: would I pay for it myself? Yes! It’s an all-rounder, a face-lifter, a glow-promoter. It does hurt – have I already mentioned that? – and it will leave you looking tomato sunburnt people-will-stare-at-you-on-the-tube-home red for a day or two afterwards (you can cover this really well with Oxygenetix post procedure foundation); after which, you may well peel for a day (I did), but after that… You will look good. For weeks. So yeah, I’d pay for it myself!

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