It started with a squeeze of fake tan, pilfered from my mother’s bathroom cabinet. The next morning, I was caught orange-handed and my pocket money duly docked, but it was a small price to pay. Aged 13, I felt as if a new me had been born: bronzed, grown-up and several shades closer to the glamorous Dynasty stars I admired. My rusty palms mattered not; the genie was out of the tanning bottle.
Looking back, it’s easy to understand why I was so entranced. As a gawky, buck-toothed kid who’d grown up pale and uninteresting, I saw fake tan as the fast track to fabulous. My complexion wasn’t – and never will be – capable of getting a real suntan, yet here was a magical solution to my ghostly pallor. By the time I’d left home and fallen into the glitzy world of beauty journalism, self-tan had become part of my uniform. Life was good (plus, I’d discovered tanning mitts).
But while the future was bright, it was rather orange as well. Tanning formulas weren’t as sophisticated as they are today, and I didn’t help myself by adding layer upon layer without exfoliating. Close up, my skin resembled tiger bread. My application skills were slapdash, too, and I regularly had stripey shins, ginger eyebrows and toes the colour of Wotsits.
Patchy application and orange eyebrows were part of the look
Patchy or not, though, self-tan was my comfort blanket – and I threw it on at every opportunity. Generally, the bigger the occasion, the darker the shade, although thankfully a wise spray tanner talked me down from going a deep chestnut colour on my wedding day. “You want people to see the dress, not the tan,” she quite rightly advised.
That aside, I believed more was more. Both thrillingly and terrifyingly, my job often involved interviewing celebrities, and that meant a good dollop of Anti-Impostor Syndrome in Dark.
Interviewing celebrities meant layering on the fake tan
A scroll through my phone finds images of me bothering the likes of David Beckham, Eva Longoria and Nicole Scherzinger with Bisto skin (and, no doubt, a biscuity pong). There’s a selfie with Claudia Winkleman, my complexion in the running for ‘unlikeliest Pantone Shade of the Year’, and a photo of me beside Joan Collins, who’d just heard all about being my teenage glamspiration. Her polite smile says it all.
A double-dip of glow for Eva Longoria and Joan Collins
Sticking with the ‘oops’ theme, I could also reel off a list of things I’ve managed to ruin with fake tan: toilet seats (guide colour on a white surface: never smart), a sofa in a holiday cottage (ditto), numerous bedsheets (which now feature a Turin Shroud-like imprint of my body) and several holiday flights (my husband is nauseated by the smell of a developing fake tan and objects to flying ‘QueasyJet’ next to his stinky wife).
People talk now about ‘blusher blindness’ and ‘brow blindness’, but I was definitely an early adopter of the beauty myopia trend with my self-tan choices. Looking back, I can see I was too orange too often, but do I regret it? No, because I loved it at the time.
A shade or five darker to meet Nicole Scherzinger
Like many people, I feel good with a sun-kissed glow, and I’m actually happy the only way I can get it is out of a bottle. Having seen a close family member battle stage 4 malignant melanoma (thanks you NHS, for the miracle of immunotherapy), I know just how dangerous the sun can be. I’m glad to have jumped on the ‘can’t tan, won’t burn’ bandwagon early and worn SPF every day for decades. My skin, I’m told, is in good nick as a result.
And while I always come back from holiday paler than when I arrived, at least I don’t waste precious beach time rotating like a rotisserie chicken when I can be contentedly shade-bathing with a book.
Lynne’s husband doesn’t appreciate the smell of her holiday self-tan when it’s developing next to him on a plane
Now at the tail end of my 40s, my relationship with self-tan has entered a new era. The love endures, but it’s evolved into something more grown-up. The sophistication that comes with age? I’d hope so, but I have to confess that it’s also down to the fact that self-tan doesn’t develop as deeply on my skin any more. “That’s perimenopause,’ a skin-doctor friend informed me. ‘Self-tan develops by reacting with amino acids in your skin. Levels of those amino acids fall alongside oestrogen and progesterone, so your tan won’t be as deep.” Who knew?
Those hormonal changes are doing me a favour, though. “Less is more with tan as we get older,” says self-tan guru James Read, whose résumé includes clients such as Mariah Carey and Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. “A full-on tan can emphasise lines and pigmentation. I think a natural glow looks more flattering. It enhances your complexion, so you look like a better version of yourself.”
Lynne with and without one of her ultra-dark tans
Dialling down my colour has been just one step on my self-tan journey. I’m also choosier about the products I use, opting for hydrating formulas to counter the drying effects of the tanning active DHA. ‘Self-tan is all about skincare now,’ agrees James, whose excellent new Self Glow range blurs the category lines with products such as Dusk To Dawn Overnight Tan Facial, a sleep mask plus gentle tan. ‘You want something that feels like a regular pampering product, then the next day you’re glowing.’
I’ve also been converted to nourishing facial tanning drops, particularly Collistar Face Magic Drops Self-Tanning Concentrate, which gives the most gorgeous healthy glow in record time.
If I’m using a top-to-toe formula, it has to be a high-tech, high-end product, such as Sunless Tinted Tan Light Face & Body Souffle, by Jimmy Coco, the man who’s responsible for some of Hollywood’s most iconic red carpet tans. “It has a beautiful hydration complex, plus colloidal gold for a soft-focus finish,” Jimmy explains. “When you combine care and colour, you don’t look like you’re wearing fake tan – you just look like you’ve been on an ultra-luxurious holiday.” I love his ID3 shade, aka ‘a five-star weekend on the Amalfi coast’.
There’s been a corresponding upgrade in my application technique, too. While streaks might be an amusing rite of passage, the joke wears thin in midlife. Lessons learned include proper prep (exfoliation, daily body cream), always using a clean tanning mitt (the difference is remarkable) and never tanning in a rush, in bad light or – heaven forbid – under the influence.
And while it’s not the most enjoyable experience, it’s worth making the effort to inspect your canvas. “It’s common to find new patches of dry skin developing with age, including pigmented spots on the face,” says James. “Be aware of where they are, moisturise them before you tan and spot-apply moisturiser on those areas afterwards, too, to stop them picking up excess tan.” James also swears by retinol to prevent tan gathering around the neck, which is a common mature-skin issue.
And if there is still the odd blip, despite my best efforts, I keep the brilliant Rose & Caramel Fake Tan Remover on standby to sort them out in a flash.
Finally, I should say that I’m no longer reliant on the perma-tan of yesteryear. I’m frequently pale, and I’ve grown to love embracing my fair skin and freckles with skin tints and blusher. All the same, I’m grateful to have self-tan in my beauty arsenal for whenever I’m feeling tired, drab or shy and need the illusion of glowy confidence to push me forward. I guess it’s true what they say: sometimes you have to fake it till you make it.