It's not clear which is the greater mystery: Why women flock to dermatologist-to-the-stars Fredric Brandt when his wildly askew aesthetic judgment is displayed on his smooth, shiny visage for all the world to see, or why the good doctor himself chooses to ignore the evidence of his own mirror to self-administer amounts of botox and fillers that, he admits, would require a payment plan were he not getting them at cost. As a journalist discovers when she spends a day at Brandt's East 34th Street clinic, these are not questions that trouble the patients—27 in a typical 10-hour day—who joyfully submit to multiple injections, lasers, and Brandt's more-is-better attitude.
Like the 26-year-old who had her jaw and lips injected, and pronounced the result "awesome," or the couple, him a furniture shop owner, her a colorist, who were getting their faces done at the same time. Or the 70-year-old "New York society hostess" with a fiancé 16 years her junior, who wondered, between getting her cheeks inflated with Juvederm, what possessed Jocelyne Wildenstein to turn herself into a monster. "People don't see themselves," says Brandt, "It's the same as anorexics. They don't see themselves."