Cosmetic procedures quite often receive bad press; they’re seen as unbridled vanity and something to be frowned upon (if you can still frown, that is). But the industry drivers are far more complex than simple vanity. Society rewards attractiveness in both obvious and subtle ways. Little in our social existence is truly immune from the influences of beauty. The cosmetic industry is tapping into more than garden-variety vanity.
The Medical Board of Australia has released a discussion paper and proposed regulations to better protect consumers. And the industry is huge – about A$1 billion per year in Australia. So tinkering with the regulations is a risky game for all. I’m tipping a heated debate.
Admittedly, I’m yet to try anything major myself, however I’ve got nothing against cosmetic medicine. While medicine is at its best looking after sick people with diagnosable and measurable illnesses, people have explored and exploited its other uses for centuries. Tonics and procedures to fight the ravages of ageing are as old as medicine itself.
As long as consumers are aware of the costs, risks and likely outcomes, I can’t see an ethical difference between selling cosmetic medicines and selling anything else.
But herein lies the problem: just how do you assess the risks and benefits? When medical treatment risk is compared with the risk of known disease, the equation is pretty easy. But when the risks are being weighed against abstract outcomes such as beauty, then the equation becomes complex.
And more worrying: how do you know when to stop? Websites and magazines are full of people who have gone too far – schadenfreude sells.
Assessing the Benefits of Cosmetic Medicine
Trying to unravel the cosmetic medicine industry is a challenge. Multiple types of practitioners exist with qualifications varying from those with brief training in a specific procedure, through to plastic surgeons with more than a decade of education.
The range of procedures is even more overwhelming: creams, medications, injections, lasers, ultrasounds and surgery. Each comes with an evidence base, but assessing that evidence is virtually impossible without considerable expertise. Distinguishing marketing and advertising from scientific evidence is not easy.
Advertisers love to use phrases like “scientifically proven” or “clinically tested”. These are nonsense terms; you could apply them to almost anything. The outcomes offered may be ambiguous: look younger; your skin will be softer; wrinkles visibly removed. How reliably can you measure these outcomes?
They tend to make promises that are only loosely linked to research, and then rely heavily on “testimonials” – apparent quotes from happy customers. Or worse still, before and after photos (in our era of digital manipulation). To me, these are signs that there is no true evidence. By and large, they should be ignored.
The reality is that most people decide on the likely benefits of cosmetic procedures based on a mixture of word-of-mouth and the advice of clinicians they trust – mixed with a hefty dose of hope.
