There are so many ‘beauty supplements’ around now, but do they actually work?

Photograph Annie Collinge

My problem is I’ve always hated tablets. They make me gag (even ibuprofen feels like a test of endurance). So I’ve never been consistent with supplements. I once took magnesium religiously, until I went away for a weekend, lost the bottle, and never replaced it. Habit broken.

But here’s the thing: so much of this glittering industry is smoke and mirrors. Supplements are only as good as the body you put them in. If you’re chronically stressed, subsisting on four hours’ sleep, mainlining Haribo at your desk and doom-scrolling at 1am, no amount of ashwagandha is going to save you. Supplements can’t be magic if your lifestyle is chaos.

That said, something has to give. I’m constantly tired, my sleep is shot, and occasionally I bark at my husband like a deranged Pomeranian. The fact is, the older you get, the more help you need. And if, like me, you gag at pills, tinctures and powders are the way forward.

Last year Marina Abramović persuaded me to try her tinctures, created with Dr Nonna Brennan, who she claims cured her of Lyme disease. When Marina Abramović hands you a vial of something that makes your breath smell of garlic (“just don’t go on a date tonight”), you don’t argue. And to my surprise, it wasn’t even that offensive. A few drops: job done.

Of course, it’s also about dodging the crappy placebos. Choose wisely. A few of the (science-backed and credible) brands I like include The Nue Co, Artah, Wild Nutrition, Dose by VH, and Vida Glow.

But the bigger reason I long-avoided “wellness” is that it’s overwhelmingly whitewashed. Other people’s traditions – Ayurveda, meditation, adaptogens – have been cherry-picked, commodified, while the very communities they came from are erased. An Indian friend once told me how uncomfortable she felt in a London yoga class where every woman was white and seemed to stare at her. The irony of being side-eyed while practising something rooted in your own culture is staggering. This is the heart of the wellness problem: Wellness for the few, not wellbeing for all.

But while I’ll never carry a pill box the size of a suitcase, I will (begrudgingly) stir green powder into my juice (and yes, I do feel perkier), and when I remember, I’ll take a tincture, which feels half medicine, half magic. Supplements, for me, remain somewhere between necessity and theatre. A little help, a little ritual – but no illusions of miracles.

Nouveau chic The Parisian perfume house Maison Francis has given its scented icons a chic makeover: frosted Italian glass and gleaming gold lids. Because I guess even candles deserve couture. Some scents have had a subtle rebrand (Petit Matin is now Pour le Matin) while cult classics - yes, Baccarat Rouge 540, we’re looking at you - remain gloriously untouched. Maison Francis Kurdijian Pillars Candle Renovation  from £105, Harrods

Seasonal glow Acqua di Parma’s new candle collection is basically an Italian autumn bottled. Expect hazelnut leaves with gianduja cocoa, white truffle laced with pine, and grapes sweetened by blackcurrant. Housed in amber glass with cotton-soft labels, they’re less “cosy candle” and more elegant objet d’art – the kind you’ll keep long after the last flicker fades. Acqua Di Palma scented candles, £71, John Lewis

True blue Tall Trees, Kit Kemp’s cult-favourite print, has had a bold, blue and deliciously modern makeover. The design wraps a ceramic jar topped with a cheeky domed lid in her geometric ‘Geo’ pattern, complete with gold detailing. Inside? A scented candle of pink pepper, cedarwood, and purple patchouli that’s as chic as it is soothing. Blue Tall Trees Ceramic Candle, £85, Kit Kemp