I launched myself into a healing saga of harsh topical creams, trying every antibiotic under the sun, spironolactone , probiotics, Chinese herbs, going dairy-free, gluten-free, sugar-free, chugging spirulina (tastes like and looks like pond scum), eating chia seeds (shares the unfortunate consistency of congealed gravy), getting less sun, getting more sun (one ill-advised SPF-free sunbathing session left me looking like I was wearing a painful red head-to-toe bodysuit for four days). I felt exhausted. I put all my energy into my skin, and it repeatedly rebuked my advances like a hostile nightclub bouncer. My breaking point came the day I turned 26, when I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. That was that. I had been battling acne for over a decade. I was going to need a bigger boat. I made an appointment at The London Skin and Hair Clinic to see consultant dermatologist Martin Wade, and it was one of the best things I ever did.