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Comaneci’s Cosmetics Claims are a Bit of a Stretch

Some memories remain indelibly etched in one’s mind. Like cheering in the Montreal Forum during the 1976 Olympics as Nadia Comaneci earned the first-ever perfect score in gymnastics. The total of seven perfect 10s she would eventually receive allowed her to rival Count Dracula as Romania’s most famous citizen. It also catapulted Nadia into several careers, including being a spokesperson for a line of cosmetics produced by the Gerovital Company.

Some memories remain indelibly etched in one’s mind. Like cheering in the Montreal Forum during the 1976 Olympics as Nadia Comaneci earned the first-ever perfect score in gymnastics. The total of seven perfect 10s she would eventually receive allowed her to rival Count Dracula as Romania’s most famous citizen. It also catapulted Nadia into several careers, including being a spokesperson for a line of cosmetics produced by the Gerovital Company.

“CosmeSilk Sericin Q Complex” promises to preserve youth with sericin, “a unique biopolymer with a unique structure leading to unique performance.” It’s a string of uniquely meaningless terms. As for the name Gerovital, it undoubtedly rings a bell with European immigrants, particularly Romanians. For it was back in the 1950s that Romanian gerontologist Dr. Ana Aslan introduced a potion that became famous around the world as a “fountain of youth in an ampoule.”

Aslan was a good friend of Nicolae Ceausescu, the country’s notorious dictator, who was keen to present a youthful and vigorous image of himself, and who supposedly charged Aslan with devising a remedy to turn back the clock. Dr. Aslan, who passed away in 1988 at the very respectable age of 91, got on the track of Gerovital after hearing accounts from physicians about alleviation of arthritis symptoms and improved skin elasticity in patients who had been administered the local anesthetic procaine hydrochloride.

Aslan herself carried out trials, which she claimed showed the drug increased longevity in rodents. Although others were unable to duplicate these results, Gerovital managed to develop a “jet-set” aura, apparently snaring celebrities such as Marlene Dietrich, Kirk Douglas, JFK and Nikita Khrushchev. Procaine may well have been the only thing the latter two ever had in common.

Much of the satisfaction with Gerovital was undoubtedly due to the placebo effect, but it seems the drug may have some pharmaceutical properties other than inducing anesthesia. Researchers agree that procaine hydrochloride is a weak monoamine oxidase inhibitor. In other words, it acts as a mild antidepressant, which would appear to explain the feeling of well-being claimed by its proponents.

One of the breakdown products of Gerovital in the body is diethylaminoethanol, a compound that has antioxidant properties. Such substances may indeed reduce damage to tissues caused by free radicals, but procaine is not innocuous, sometimes causing allergic reactions and migraines. There is insufficient evidence to warrant the use of Gerovital to counter the aging process, and its sale in North America is illegal. The company has, however, come up with various cosmetics that ride the coattails of Gerovital’s dubious fame and promise a range of anti-aging effects.

“Gerovital Anti-Aging Super Enzyme” cream has over 50 ingredients including “superoxide dismutase” (SOD). This enzyme is found in human cells where it plays a vital role in neutralizing superoxide, a potentially cell-damaging free radical generated by normal metabolic processes. SOD may indeed prevent skin damage when it is synthesized inside cells, but there is no evidence that it can be absorbed to any significant extent when applied topically. Given that it is third from the end on the list of ingredients, SOD is unlikely to contribute anything other than an opportunity for advertisers to tout the wonders of “bio-mimetic” ingredients and “long term anti-aging effects.”

The cosmetics industry has often been castigated for such “inventive” marketing, but the industry also features some very inventive science. Strangely, though, there is an interesting wrinkle here. Substantiating a claim of skin rejuvenation would require a demonstration of structural changes in the skin and a permanent elimination of wrinkles. But that would also mean the product would be classified as a drug rather than a cosmetic, and would therefore require a prescription.

This is the case for creams containing retinoic acid, a compound that has been shown in properly conducted scientific trials to improve the appearance of sun-damaged skin and to stimulate the growth of collagen, the protein responsible for the skin’s elasticity and firmness. The challenge then for cosmetic manufacturers is to develop products that can be scientifically shown to improve the appearance of the skin without causing significant changes in its structure. A temporary ironing out the wrinkles, as it were.

Special instruments originally designed to test the smoothness of race-car tracks are now available to measure the depth of wrinkles. The fact is that all moisturizers reduce wrinkle depth to some degree by puffing up the skin as they are absorbed, but cosmetic chemists are in a constant search for ingredients that enhance this effect. Palmitoyl pentapeptide, acetyl hexapeptide-3, hyaluronic acid, furfuryladenine and a host of other compounds all claim to erase fine lines and mask blemishes. And companies do provide evidence to back up the claims with photomicrographs of skin cells and close-up pictures of improved “crow’s feet.” Interesting academically to be sure, but the question is whether an objective observer will note an improvement. Mirrors don’t lie, but the reflection seems to reflect the amount of money spent on a product.

With the current concern about “chemicals,” producers are looking toward “natural” alternatives. “Stemlastin” is described as “an extract of a particular red algae found living in extreme conditions in volcanoes in Indonesia produced in a natural, eco-friendly way, using a photo bio-reactor that delivers a special intra-cellular composition of extremolytes like mineral nutrients, amino acids and algae polyphenols.” I have no idea what some algae’s ability to survive in volcanoes has to do with wrinkles, but the impressive-sounding hype could well erupt into hot sales.

Neither is it clear why the gummy coating on the fibres produced by the silkworm should “restore skin tonicity and firmness,” as claimed by Nadia Comaneci Skincare’s “Blossom” concoction. I remain unimpressed by the claim that “the Empresses of China and Japan used it for centuries to stretch their youth.”

I think what is being stretched is the truth.

I have no doubt about the product’s moisturizing effect, something that is in the realm of any protein preparation. But I do wish that Nadia’s talent on the balance beam had translated into a better ability to balance hype and science in her line of cosmetics. Still, because of the thrill she gave me and others in 1976, I’ll forgive this little wrinkle in her career.

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