The Face Gym training stick: does anyone really need a face decongestant?

I saw an article about this week’s product, headlined: “Face Gym enters the future with its disruptive motion-activated skincare.” Have so many annoying and confusing words ever been packaged together this tightly?

Face Gym has made many headlines since launching in 2016, offering intense face massages, classes and treatments that tone the 40 muscles above the neck. The company has been described as “revolutionary”, the definition of which seems to be loosening somewhat. But reviews suggested it was on to something, and even the Duchess of Sussex has declared herself a fan of facial workouts. (If you had to spend all day smiling through gritted teeth, you would be, too.) Less inspiring is founder Inge Theron’s frequent invoking of the term “ath-beauty”, as if gym-pose narcissists need the affirmatory swaddle of a snappy phrase. And I am downright suspicious of its latest product, the Face Gym training stick. Everything about the title and concept has me scrunching up my face in distaste, which the brand would argue is fantastic for my jawline.

We are talking about a range of compressed tube salves, intended for topical application before a workout, in order to maximise its benefits. Doesn’t seem like a good look. Can’t imagine there is much locker-room kudos in people watching me rub a stick of faux-deodorant over my face. What is it meant to do?

I regard the ingredients of the Spirulina training stick, which claims it lifts and sculpts the face. They include “pineapple bromelain enzyme”, obviously the most delicious, and Bidens pilosa, which– well, I don’t know what that is, but I still really miss Obama. I unscrew an Activated Charcoal training stick, which promises to decongest the face. Swiping its willow bark and tea tree over my sad, long, tired face, I notice a light tingling immediately. The product is clear and fairly discreet. I was worried it would appear as if snails had swarmed over my face, which isn’t the image I like to project. It just looks as if I am lightly sweating already, which, in fairness, I often am.

I start swinging a kettlebell around, wondering how long it is until I can stick an actual kettle on. I do goblin squats, for the duration of which I look like a gargoyle. I lift some weights and wish I was dead. I check my watch. It has been four minutes. The idea is that this skincare “works out with you”, becoming more effective as you generate heat and moisture by sweating. I must exercise for at least 20 minutes, for the “warm- up, cardio, sculpt and cooldown phases to fully activate”. I struggle through more reps, taking frequent breaks and checking my email, because that is guaranteed to work up a sweat.

You may wonder why it has to be 20 minutes. I did. The makers identify different stages of exercise – the body warming up, the rise in heart rate, then the main, sweaty phase when skin cell metabolism is apparently at its most effective. The sticks time-release their active ingredients in unison with this. Effects are intensified by the presence of plant stem cells, including coffee and raspberry. (Again: delicious.) As far as I am aware, published research into the specific endocrine effects of exercise on skin is far from comprehensive and relies on mouse experiments. How Face Gym has got its physiological timings down to such a precise concert, of melting sub-micron spheres and turbo-charged raspberry stem cells, is one of the greatest advancements human science has known. Truly, they have touched the face of God and found the presence of fine lines and wrinkles. (There is a fermented liquorice oil for that.)

After my workout, which I managed to make last for 20 minutes and not a second more, the tingling was more pronounced. I looked brighter and felt better, which I usually do after exercise. The glow did last a few hours, for which we might give the product credit. There are quality ingredients here, and the notion of extracting extra benefit from a workout is an appealing one. Yet at almost £40 a stick, these will certainly decongest your bank account at least as fast as your face.

Oranges are not the only fruit oil. But the tastiest

The biggest improvement to my skin came from realising I didn’t need to eat an entire Terry’s Chocolate Orange every night, just because they are on offer.

Wellness or hellness?

Face facts: you don’t need this. 2/5