In the never-ending quest to reclaim what was taken for granted on our youthful faces, we have come to embrace many forms of facial—the zen paraffin massage, pore-busting workover, chemical shedding, laser zap cell-stimulation and various combos of the aforementioned. And in Los Angeles, an age-vague populace constantly calls into question just what regimen works short of head transplanting and witchcraft. As a frugal middle-ager with hefty nightlife and sun history, I seek the most bang for my buck, and therefore am intrigued by lasers. Anything that carves diamonds, eyeballs and ambiance on the dance floor is magic.
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