Columnist John Katsilometes: Stranger among skin care set

John Katsilometes' column appears Tuesdays and Sundays. Reach him at 259-2327 or [email protected].

One morning last week, unexpectedly interested in the finer points of skin care, I attended a moisturizer function at the Chanel boutique at Bellagio.

Hey, I was invited.

Also on hand were a dozen or so lovely and well-preserved women. I was the only guy, aside from one person who, according to the biological definition, was a "man" but not exactly the type of guy you'd invite over for Bud 'n brats on Super Bowl Sunday, if you get my drift.

The cause celebre (I still can't get the Paris opening out of my system and it's likely I'm misusing that phrase) was the unveiling of Chanel's newest skin care innovation, Precision.

Precision is a semiautomated way for consumers (read: women) to better determine which skin care products can best suit their needs. Simply punch in your specific skin type into a computerized wheel and you receive a printout of what types of products your flaked-out face requires.

The caretaker of our presentation was a Chanel ace named Susan McAlarney, who enunciated every word carefully and used sweeping arm motions she learned at Chanel Corporate Presentation School. Everyone nodded and smiled at Susan in a catatonic, Davidian sort of way, and a few devotees even clapped as she spoke of "hydration and lipidation."

As I discovered, terms like "dry" and "oily" no longer sufficiently describe various skin types. So we now bemoan our "hydration" and "lipidation" levels. We could make it easy by simply saying we don't want our faces too dry or too shiny, but that type of rationale would probably cost Susan her job.

At her demonstrative peak, Susan produced a cleanser called Precision Aquamousse (not to be confused with the Loch Ness Monster) and proclaimed, "We've all had those days when you wake up and your skin just won't behave."

Yes! Why, just the other morning I awakened to find my skin in the back yard smoking unfiltered Camels with a bunch of neighborhood hoodlums. Bad skin! Bad!

Following the presentation guests were encouraged to have their skin types diagnosed. Susan invited me up and said, "It's so refreshing to have guys interested in skin care."

The infiltrator only grinned.

"Let's get started," she said. "What's your T-Zone like?"

"Hey!" I snapped. "I'm a married man!"

Susan patiently explained that the T-Zone is your forehead down through your nose area, "like a T, see?" I said my T-Zone was "slightly oily" and punched that entry on the circle.

I made my way around the circle, pleased I was so in tune with my facial needs. My only real worry was puffy eyes in the morning, what I call the "Rocky Balboa in the 11th Round Syndrome."

My resulting readout said I required no less than eight skin care products: two cleansers, a purifying toner, a nighttime restoring lotion, a daytime moisturizer, some T-Zone shine control (a must), blemish control solution and an eye-lift lotion to combat my Rocky-ness. Susan handed me a little bag filled with samples of my assorted gels and lotions and I was finis (oops, Paris again).

Later, as I was driving out of the hotel, I applied a little eye lift at a stoplight. I turned and noticed a guy staring at me, transfixed with a curious expression.

Maybe he wanted to borrow some.

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