Man Made [antikvár]

Man Made INTRODUCTION At 14 years old I was a real Ugly Betty. I had acne, train-track braces, a monobrow and wet-look 'fro. My yearbook photo shows a pained but smiling-through-it-all expression. By 16 my acne was even worse, and I'd graduated to styling my too-wavy hair into a hirsute helmet with just a hint of mullet. I found my first freak grey hairs when I was 19 - it happened almost overnight, like Rogue in X-Men. By then I had long locks, way past my shoulders, except it leapt out awkwardly in an angry cloud of frizz, as if it was trying to leave my head in search of a better life. I chopped it off and over the years experimented with some truly challenging looks: a mini-mohawk, spikes gunged with gel; I even shaved my head, only to expose a weird knobble at the back of my head like an extra nose. But now, I think I look pretty good. By that I mean I worked out how to make the best of what I've got, and started to worry less about how I look. As a former magazine editor, I've hit more than my fair share of grooming goals. I've tried and tested some tough treatments and upscale facials, had my face microwaved on Harley Street, and my love handles mishandled via a series of techy treatments that