Like most things I don’t quite understand (letters from the Inland Revenue, French art-house films, the appeal of ballet pumps on fully grown women), I have always been rather scared, not to say disapproving, of fake tan. What possible aesthetic advantages could there be to dying your skin an invariably lurid (not to mention malodorous) shade of orange? Why put up with the streaking, the tide marks and the tyranny of faking a permanently sunny demeanour?

Besides, it’s not like I haven’t tried. I speak as someone whose natural skin tone is the colour (and texture) of mushroom risotto. In natural light, it has an almost bluish fluorescence; the rest of the time, it just looks a dull grey. Lured by the promise of golden loveliness, I have over the years submitted to various brands and techniques: creams, gels, sprays; hands-on, airbrushed and trapped in a booth. I’ve suffered orange toes and lily-white feet, fluorescent knees, blotchy wrists and crease marks on my neck (the latter being particularly unattractive). I’ve even had to take a shower in the middle of the night because the smell of wet biscuit was keeping me awake. I’ve exfoliated, buffed and executed contortionist moves, and, at the end of it all, I have concluded that self-tan is not for me.

Then, quite by accident really, because I so rarely spend time on a beach, let alone a sunny one, I got myself an accidental tan. Still Persil bright by most people’s standards, but nonetheless a real tan. And since I was rather liking it, I decided to prolong it with Clinique’s new Body Tinted Lotion (£14.68), which I found in the beauty cupboard (I know I mentioned this before, but it’s so good it deserves to be namechecked twice). To my surprise, the results were a triumph: subtle, sunkissed and not at all smelly.

Now thoroughly overexcited by a workable solution to pallid calves but not wishing to seem biased, I decided to branch out. Once the Clinique had faded a little (after about four days), I tried Estée Lauder’s new Bronze Goddess Self-Tanning Milk (£19.57, left). This produced a slightly more intense glow, very pleasing especially for the legs and décolletage – although the wet biscuit smell was more intense. Unreservedly flattering was its Luminous Liquid Bronzer (£19.57), a fabulous oil-free liquid (a make-up, not a self-tan) that gives just a hint of shimmer to already bronzed skin: great for evenings and special occasions.

Last but not least, I tried Lancôme’s Flash Bronzer (£20.50) – but used the face formula for body (a top tip for pale complexions, since face formulations tend to be extra gentle). Also excellent: streak-free, very natural colour, lovely texture, minimum pong and, crucially, not a hint of Tango. Reader, I’m hooked.

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