The Newest Skin Game

After years of encouraging women to cover their skin with layers of makeup, cosmetics chiefs have begun to place more emphasis on the skin itself. The care of skin, particularly cleaning and lubricating, is the fastest-growing segment of the industry. Companies are replacing the old jar of cold cream with complete product lines to firm crepy necks, nourish the skin and control trouble spots.

While Main Street Ms. America pays $2 for simple moisturizers and cleansers, the more affluent are willing to drop $235 on the complete La Prairie line of five Swiss-made "miracle" creams and lotions that are sold at some department stores. The $70 Treatment Cream contains live cells from sheep placenta, ostensibly to retard aging. Probably the most successful of the full lines is Estee Lauder's Clinique, consisting of seven products concocted with the help of dermatologists and priced from $6.50 to $7.50 each. In many department stores, the Clinique counter resembles a laboratory, where the saleswomen wear white uniforms and products are packaged in antiseptic green. On the counter sits a computer-like box that asks the customer eight questions about her complexion, which she answers by moving silver knobs. The answers are supposed to determine her skin type and thus the right group of Clinique cleansers, moisturizers and creams for her. Or him. Two years ago, Clinique started to market a full line for men.

Beauty clinics--notably those of Georgette Klinger, Elizabeth Arden, Christine Valmy and Adrien Arpel--cater to women who want treatments that they hope will keep their skin appearing young, smooth, wrinkle-free. Prices vary, but the average cost for a one-hour facial is $30. In Los Angeles, where looking good is an obsession, Aida Grey's baby-bottom-pink salon pampers 300 customers daily. They book their appointments as much as four months in advance, and their purses are lighter by $25 to $100 when when they leave. An ad for a $40 "Day of Beauty" at an Adrien Arpel clinic in Beverly Hills produced a waiting list of 140 names in 24 hours.

Some beauty-clinic owners are eager to demystify the treatments. Says Czech-born Georgette Klinger, who manufactures and sells 35 products for cleansing alone: "Magic creams don't exist. There is no magic in anything. It is absolutely not necessary to pay $100 -- that's just for prestige."

At Klinger's salons in Manhattan, Chicago, Beverly Hills and Bal Harbour, Fla., the $30 treatment is basically the same for anyone who walks through the door, but individual skin type determines which of Klinger's more than 300 cleansing creams, lubricants and masks will be used. While the customer lies back, her legs covered with a blue and white paisley quilt, a cosmetologist goes to work, cleaning the skin with unscented makeup remover and lotion. Then a lubricant is applied with a small hot iron, which is a doll-sized version of the kitchen iron, to soften the pores. This "face ironing" is followed by a herbal or seaweed steam facial, manual and deep-pore cleansing, a tightening mask and a makeup consultation. More and more men are showing up in skin-treatment centers too: 10% of Arpel's customers and 20% of Klinger's are men, while both Aida Grey and the Beverly Hills Neiman-Marcus are about to open salons exclusively for them. Reports Billye Newman, an Arpel's executive: "We're not getting the gay guy. We're getting the truck drivers and the men who do dirty work. A jackhammer doesn't do anything for your complexion."

It is debatable whether all the alchemy doe:s much more than remind customers to cleanse their skin thoroughly and regularly--a good habit, like brushing the teeth. At the very least the treatments massage the psyche. Says Arpel's Newman: "We're cheaper than a psychiatrist, we're more fun, we'll listen to all the problems you want to tell us, and you'll come out looking a whole lot better."

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