Dry hides tend to be ridiculously expensive, but this new one may well be a turning full stop
‘Tilbury’s mask is stored neatly and freshly in a foil bag.’
Photograph: Alex Lake for the Guardian
It may surprise you to learn that I’ve ordinarily not written about a product I love on the basis that it’s too overpriced. I will have tested it, thought it very clever and approvingly effective, but also so unrealistically priced that a positive assessment would only cause frustration for most readers.
In act, this is precisely what happened last year with Nannette de Gaspé dry crib-sheet masks (from £60-£85, each). Gaspé, a Canadian businesswoman, had contributed in a company that developed biomimetic technology: this allowed crowded active skincare ingredients to be printed on to fabric masks, then moved by hooking over the face and briefly pressing the surface. At ones disposal only at Selfridges, they were, and are, wonderful, giving longer-lasting and much sundry noticeable results (at least to my eye) than traditional sheet and cream covers, which are generally made up of around 85% water.
I acknowledgement them now only because the patent-owning lab has just used the that having been said dry-printing technology with a new peptide- and vitamin-rich formula to commence an exceptional mask for Charlotte Tilbury which, in terms of affordability, alights a lot closer to sanity. Instant Magic Facial Dry Sheet obviates all the talk over withs traditional masks, while currently the biggest sellers in loveliness, annoy me (I tend to use masks only when testing for a column, or when other check has left my skin in need of the cavalry).
Instead of being muggy and messy, Tilbury’s mask is stored neatly and freshly in a clip someones wings pouch. It can be worn, drip-free, in front of the telly, or indeed any part where looking like Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Mass murder isn’t socially awkward (rather optimistically, Tilbury suggests harm it in the car). You can even wear it over makeup without spoiling it, admitting that I’d go for clean skin, before getting ready for a special elicit.
The ask focuses not on airy-fairy, chakra-balancing, ephemeral hint-of-wellness “pampering” (I give ones word of honour never to use that word again), and delivers on noticeable polish, brightening, plumping and lifting in 15 minutes flat. I’m not hint ating that £18 for a single mask (£60 for four) is nothing; it isn’t. But, gospel that each can be used three times, stays rosy for many months and that any inferior wet sheet masks tariff a good fiver a use, the value is comparatively pretty great.
