Kim Kardashian’s cure for Ozempic face: a giant plaster

People are using it for “Ozempic face”, which, from what I read, is when you lose weight too fast and your face turns into Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

There are stern instructions to wear it overnight, though presumably one might descend into looping nightmares about being ingested by a giant sticking plaster. Your partner may be disturbed by you yelling and begging for your life in the early hours – but who cares, if you look pretty?

The actor Anthony Hopkins has mocked the wrap, wearing one, Hannibal Lecter-style, on an Instagram post. I certainly wouldn’t advise wearing it outside, as it will look like you’ve put Spanx pants on your face to commit a bank heist. Nor are there details about how long it takes for the tightening effects to diminish, though I’m guessing immediately after you take it off.

Like most skincare snake oil these days, this face-wrenching tech lark originated in South Korea. But if it’s a monetising K-flex too far, why do I so crave one?

It’s not even new. Those of us old enough to remember the 1990s Ally McBeal comedy-drama starring Calista Flockhart recall her risible “face-bra” invention. Yet here we are, in 2025, taking it seriously, stumping up 52 notes in what feels like a very low moment for western civilisation: a reminder that the once rare condition of body dysmorphic disorder is now the default setting for modern femininity – or you’re just not trying hard enough.

This is a blow for the popular British Male Heatwave Look – cutoff cargo pants, bare torso, red-raw sunburn (optional) – that many of us find so sexy.

Miscreants are already incurring €130 fines in places such as Cassis and Nice. The ban announced in the Atlantic resort of Les Sables-d’Olonne had an accompanying “evolution of man”-type poster depicting elegant people dressed in Victorian style evolving into Speedo-wearing, pot-bellied slobs.

I have some sympathy for French townspeople: nobody wants to deal with overstuffed Speedos in the boulangerie. Still, it’s wild that tourists should be told how to dress. Will they be coming for my Crocs next?

Apparently, people go along with a book and chat up people who also have a book. It’s aimed at gen Z-ers suffering from dating app fatigue.

Sadly, it reminds me of past doomed dating/retail mashups, such as when women were ordered to attend supermarket singles nights, or told by women’s magazines to help men use the dryers in launderettes because they would fall in love with you.

In my self-appointed role of embittered crone, I must warn gen Z that some people may lie about possessing lofty literary tastes; indeed about reading, period.

One could also wonder whether in the modern scramble for a romantic partner anything – even reading – can be allowed to remain private and solitary.

Photograph by @AnthonyHopkins/Instagram