Every formula I make has a story behind it. I have always loved The Making of documentaries, as I find stories of conception inspiring… everything in our world begins as a thought and to see the process shows me that we don’t have to start off with a fully formed idea. Things take their time and are being created behind the scenes, in our subconscious, even if we are not aware of it.
I do believe my flower remedies are so effective because they were born, not only out of years of clinical practice, trying them out on my clients, but out of my personal need for relief during certain periods of my life.
I would like to start with a formula that is very close to my heart. The story of Beauty Formula No. 8 began long before I was a flower remedy practitioner. At age 15, my friend entered me into the "Elite Look of the Year Contest." I “won” a contract for one year with Elite modeling agency, who at the time, was the agency for all the top models (Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Claudia Schiffer… all of them). Being chosen by Elite made me feel like I had been officially declared “attractive.”
I didn’t think I was ugly, but I had the kind of shyness and self-doubt that is so common among teenage girls. I was put in “New Faces,” the division where young models build their portfolios and learn the ropes. There were about twelve of us in New Faces, ages 13-17. I was one of three blondes, one of the others was Cameron Diaz. We did some test shoots together.
She was just as she is now, sparkling and confident, with a very big personality. She became successful in the teen modeling scene almost immediately, whereas I didn’t seem to fit.
I was not your usual teenager. I was “wise beyond my years,” an observer who had no aspirations of fame. My dream was to travel and study art and literature. I thought that modeling could give me that life.
The agents paired me with a photographer who did more artistic work. I was his favorite model and we spent weekends doing shoots. His designer girlfriend made me outfits from movies, where I reenacted scenes from “Bye Bye Birdie” or “Lolita.” Or dressed as a WWII Garboesque heroine, with long gloves and cigarettes. It was fun and collaborative. But during my rounds of “go-sees,” I got very little response from clients. I thought there was something wrong with me. I realized later that a portfolio of moody black and whites would not have gotten me the cover of "Seventeen Magazine.” But at the time I really thought I wasn’t getting good jobs because I wasn’t pretty enough.
I began comparing myself to people like Cameron... If only I could be “more...” More what though? I didn’t even know. My self-esteem began suffering. My agents sent me to meet with photographers who didn’t have to pass any kind screening process to call 15-year-olds to their homes alone.
I had a few scary situations, like being in a house alone with a man who told me to take my clothes off and videotaped me, for no specific job. I was also shamed into taking my top off by famed sexual predator, Terry Richardson. Afterward he invited me to see his band play at Club Lingerie. I said, “I can’t go there. I’m 16.” He went to his closet and pulled down a file box full of real blank birth certificates, with gold-embossed seals, and gave me one. “You can get a fake ID with this.”
We were vulnerable, sexualized before many of us had even had our first kiss. I modeled on and off throughout my whole adult life, moving into commercials, which was much more suited to me. I made good money and was one of the favorites of Joe Pytka, who cast me in many of his award-winning commercials. But through the whole thing, the insecurity and over-focus on my looks were damaging. It made me insecure in my relationships, caused an eating disorder, and stole the joy of being unselfconscious.
I spent my teens and 20s criticizing my looks, never appreciating my youth and beauty,
only to slide right into the 30s with a new fear: AGING.
Growing up in L.A., there is an unspoken thing that even if you’re not an actress, no one would even look at you once you hit 35. I heard the phrase: “The Invisible 40s.” I had a new kind of shame and fear. Nearly every pretty woman I would see in the health food store had had plastic surgery. No one was allowed to have normal-sized lips or some wrinkles. As someone who was so focused on health, eating only organic, not drinking or doing drugs, and into doing cleanses, it was crazy that I thought, “Oh, there will always be Botox and filler when I hit 40."
The soul-destroying work of commercial acting finally reached the end, when, as luck would have it, a series of events conspired to end my career for me.
A Screen Actors Guild strike, malaria, and a series of devastating losses caused me to lose commercial work and forced me to start thinking about what I really wanted to do. It was right around then that I discovered flower remedies…
After taking a few custom formulas, I began to love myself… or at least like myself. I went deep into this wound, the shame, and confronted it. I looked at photographs of myself from the teenage years, saw a strikingly fragile looking and beautiful girl. I grieved for her, that she couldn’t see herself, for even one day, as acceptable.
I began to make peace with my looks. It wasn’t an issue anymore. I no longer felt ugly (nor beautiful). My passion for healing, for myself and others, was so strong that nothing else mattered.
But then, every client that came to me was a woman. An L.A. woman, usually aged 30-50. Whatever their reason for coming to see me, heartbreak, drug addiction, writer’s block, anxiety, ADD, they all shared one thing: they thought they were ugly, had eating disorders, had done plastic surgery, or were considering it. None of them were happy with themselves. I thought it was just models who felt this way because their livelihood depended on their looks, but I saw that this was an epidemic. And it was not only ignored but cultivated and made acceptable by the media and the collective consciousness.
I felt heartbreak for all womankind (and the few men who came to see me), that they were missing the whole joy of life, because they felt that something was wrong with them. “If only I was more…” I began to think about an anti-aging formula. I started trying certain remedies on women and saw a major improvement when they returned with brighter skin, sparkling eyes, and yes, even love of the way they looked. But it wasn’t until my older sister told me she wanted to get Botox between her eyebrows (the “11” lines), that I created the Beauty Formula No. 8.
I pleaded with her, “Give me a chance. If after one month on this flower remedy, you still want to get Botox, then you can.” She agreed. Flower remedies had never been used for cosmetic purposes, but I knew that they had potential, from seeing peoples’ faces change after taking my custom formulas. I had a list of benefits my Beauty Formula would need if it was going to be a replacement for Botox and filler. It would have to actually change the face (by releasing the tension that could cause deep wrinkles, removing acne, and rejuvenating prematurely aging skin).
But what I really wanted it to do was remove the deep and tragic belief that we have to fix ourselves. To allow people to see themselves as beautiful and radiate the kind of charisma and glow you see in those who are not conscious of their own beauty, who don’t think about their looks. I made the formula for my sister. She called me a month later and said, “It’s really weird, but the flowers worked. My wrinkles are gone I think…or maybe I just don’t care about it anymore. I think I look good.” I knew this was the formula. I made a declaration to myself, "I am going to revolutionize the beauty industry.”
I get so many emails from people raving about Beauty Formula No. 8. I feel so proud of it. It is not just making people beautiful, it is giving people freedom. I am grateful for what I went through. It was part of my path as a healer and what I needed to learn to help others to live a beautiful life.