Like most 50+ women I am at war with my wrinkles. Every morning, as I brush my teeth, I stare aghast at my creased face in the bathroom mirror (probably shouldn’t use the magnified side). So yesterday, I attended an appointment with a qualified nurse who administers a range of wrinkle-busting treatments including Sculptra: injections are made deep into the skin which, utilising the body’s production of collagen, plump up areas of the face approximately eight weeks later. I’ve had fillers before (Restylane) without problem and I regularly have Botox between my eyebrows (always had a deep frown ever since I was a toddler) but feel wary of this technique. My sister had her cheeks plumped up a few years ago and the bruising was horrendous, livid purples, yellows, greens and blues. It didn’t help that the therapist’s face looked as if she was well on the way to an over-stuffed pillow effect. So, talking of pillows, I am going to forgo the syringe in favour of trying out my silk pillowcase, a thoughtful gift that I have just realised is still lying unopened in the linen cupboard.