If you have never heard of Dr Nick Lowe, you will have seen his influence on a
million pages of glossy magazines. He is the man behind the rise of Botox,
who has peeled, pampered and pricked a thousand famous faces. His clients
include the facially resculpted Anne Robinson, who says that Dr Lowe took
years off her face, though his treatments are strictly non-surgical. High
street customers are about to get the Lowe treatment too, with the launch of
his new skincare range.
But Dr Lowe keeps very quiet about his celebrity clients. The wood-panelled
walls of his office are plastered not with their pictures but “The Best
Doctor in America” and “America's Top Physicians” certificates, garnered
while working in the US. Alongside them are detailed academic papers on his
work investigating eczema, psoriasis, disfiguring birthmarks and skin
cancers. There's also an intriguing old picture of Dr Lowe from his Navy
days in tropical uniform sitting next to a young man who looks remarkably
similar to our future king.
In 30-odd years as an NHS-trained dermatologist working in both the UK and the
US, what's set Dr Lowe apart from the beauty therapists and cosmetic
surgeons who tempt us with visions of youth is that he has had science as
well as celebrity on his side. He's a lecturer at University College London,
who until recently treated NHS patients with skin problems as well as
private clients.
So it's surprising that this month he's joining a different milieu with the
national launch of his own range of cosmetics, exclusively available at
Boots. It's proudly proclaimed in its publicity as “the first UK Doctor
brand”, alongside familiar “visibly outstanding results” marketing blurb.
It's odd because Dr Lowe has been overtly critical of many cosmetics and the
way they are marketed. The existing “Doctor brands”, such as Dr Brandt
Skincare, Dr Sebagh and NV Perricone MD command high price tags, supposedly
reflecting well-researched scientific activity. This has gained them the
soubriquet “cosmeceuticals”.
But Dr Lowe is on record as saying that they are overhyped. “It's lifestyle
and genetics that are the main influences, and there's only a certain amount
that non-prescription creams can do,” he says.
So has the down-to-earth, Wolverhampton-born Dr Lowe gone over to the dark
side? I fear, with the launch of his new range, that he can no longer claim
expert independence from those who peddle their wares to us.
He looks good for a man of 64
Face to face, his own skin is nothing to write home about, though he admits to
having had laser treatment for spider veins, radiofrequency skin tightening
and Botox treatment every year for the past 20 years, usually injected by
one of his daughters, a trained doctor. He looks good for a man of 64, but
nothing miraculous - little crinkles around the eyes, the odd little red
patch.
But it's quite reassuring that he looks “real”. Dr Lowe says that Botox and
other non-surgical skin treatments have got a bad name because they've been
done badly. He did some of the first rigorous studies on the possible
applications of Botox for frown lines in the late 1980s while he was working
at UCLA in Santa Monica, where he is still clinical professor of
dermatology. This laid the ground for Botox's approval by the US drug
regulators in 1989.
As soon as Dr Lowe saw its potential, he started using it on himself. Botox
was first licensed for cosmetic use in the UK about seven years ago and he
says that much of current treatment is “a joke”, mainly because it is
administered by people who don't know what they're doing. “Botox is a
medical treatment and in Britain the regulations say it has to be given
under the supervision of a physician trained in its use. If it's done badly,
you can get problems such as asymmetry of the face that can last some time.
I'd say just 40 per cent of those having Botox are having it done properly.”
His own Botox treatment started when he noticed a drop of his brows and
eyelids. Carefully aimed injections in the forehead immobilise the muscles
that pull the brows down, allowing the muscles that lift the brow to have
more effect. But a jab in the wrong place, he says, can inactivate the
muscles that lift the brow, which, he adds, happens all too often.
Dr Lowe splits his time between LA and London, having set up his practice here
15 years ago to be nearer one of his two daughters, who had started medical
training in London. He has houses in Kensington and Santa Monica, which he
shares with his wife, a former physiotherapist, who helps him to manage both
private clinics. So why risk the considerable business and scientific clout
he has built up by allying himself with the product manufacturers? It can't
be the money.
“No false promises or miracle fixes”
“The motivation is partly financial,” he says. “But it's also because my
patients have asked why my products have been only available at my clinics.
But I agree; it's a delicate tightrope.” He says the market needed products
that were based on good science but were also reasonably priced (the
products cost between £9 and £20), and “offered no false promises or miracle
fixes”. What he dislikes about cosmeceuticals is that they suggest one
product is the answer to everything.
The new range consists of seven “anti-age” products, such as recovery creams
and line erasers to protect the skin against sun, stress and pollution; five
“anti-blemish” products, such as spot gels and oil control creams; and two
“skin solutions” products for age spots and red patches.
Do they work? Dr Lowe says that trials in independent labs using the most
rigorous testing techniques have shown both the safety and efficacy of his
products, though he acknowledges the size of the trials was smaller than
those conducted by the big cosmetics manufacturers such as L'Oréal and
Procter & Gamble. Unlike some skin creams, they have been approved for
their sun protection, with an SPF rating. Boots, he emphasises, is extremely
strict in its approval process. But, as with all cosmetics, the punter never
gets to see the research.
Like many other cosmetics, Dr Lowe's new products include “active” ingredients
such as retinoids, which have been proved to have a physical effect on the
skin. In high concentrations they are the basis of prescription creams to
heal the skin. They are allowed in cosmetics in lower concentrations, which
means that many products, such as Dr Lowe's, are at the blurry borderline
between a cosmetic and a pharmaceutical.
But what about the inclusion of ingredients such as pomegranate and raspberry,
which supposedly bring “superior antioxidant activity”? That doesn't sound
very science-based, given inconclusive evidence about the benefits of
antioxidants. Dr Lowe disagrees. They have a use in products that protect
rather than repair the skin: “There is legitimate research on animals that
if antioxidants are delivered at the time of UV radiation, you can reduce
skin cancer.”
Avoiding claims that go overboard
But how can the public possibly know whether his products are better than the
rest? He acknowledges that there's a problem. “I do think that's a concern.
But we have tried to avoid making claims that aren't factual,” he says.
“Look for realistic claims.” How do you tell a realistic claim, I ask.
“Claims that don't go too overboard,” he answers. Doesn't his claim
“Contains liquorice, which helps brighten and even out skin tone” sound
overboard too, if you don't have the research papers to hand? He thinks. “I
agree,” he acknowledges. “It's hard for people to be sufficiently critical.”
Dr Lowe tries hard to massage the scientist's outlook into the
superficialities of beauty. The fit isn't an entirely easy one. His slightly
barky Midlands accent rings more of the parade ground than the consulting
room. It's partly explained by the fact that he arrived where he did by
chance. The son of a nurse and a salesman, he funded his training as a
doctor through an Armed Forces sponsorship scheme. So after three years'
medical training at Liverpool University, he joined the Navy in the late
1960s as a medical officer at Chatham dockyard. Most of his patients had
skin disorders, servicemen returning from the Far East with sun damage,
dockyard workers with eczema, skin infections and rashes as a result of the
materials they were handling. That sparked his interest. While on a voyage
to the West Indies, his ship picked up the Prince of Wales, who was a
shipmate for two months. Hence the picture.
His debt to the Navy paid after five years, he became a senior registrar in
dermatology at a teaching hospital in Liverpool, and got a research
fellowship at UCLA in 1974, looking into animal models of skin ageing.
Unlike the NHS, the US offered an opportunity to combine clinical work with
research, mainly into the use of ultraviolet light and lasers to treat
disease and promote the growth of healthy skin. Handily, there were plenty
of film actors and affluent sun-soakers on his doorstep eager to try out his
rejuvenating techniques.
He admits to being obsessed about his health, perhaps as a result of picking
up Californian attitudes. He applies a daily sunscreen on his hands, face
and neck, which is especially important because he has an allergy called
polymorphous light eruption, which appears on his hands if exposed to too
much sunlight.
Yet while he has an obvious concern about his appearance, he says that he
would never consider having full-blown cosmetic surgery. “It should always
be a last resort,” he says. “I'm a great believer in treatments that are
safe and reversible.” All in all, surprisingly for a man so dependent on it,
he seems ambivalent about society's increasing fascination with staying
young. Isn't there a point, I ask, where people just have to accept that
they are going to look old? “I agree,” he says. “If I get to 70, I might
just quietly say I'll let it go. I've always thought I might go back to
academic dermatology.”
Dr Lowe skincare is available from larger Boots stores nationwide. Call 08450
708090
