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HIS NAME IS WHISPERED DISCREETLY between the racks of all those thousand-dollar frocks on Rodeo Drive, but he’s not a fashion designer. His telephone number appears in the swishest Malibu beach house address books, but he’s not a film director. Yet Toby Mayer is still one of Hollywood’s favourite men. He’s a plastic surgeon. Correction: he is the plastic surgeon to the stars . . . ‘Everyone in Hollywood has had surgery,’ says Toby Mayer, surgeon to the stars. At a glance he can tell who’s been nipped and tucked-but how can he be so sure? Lowri Turner quizzes him on the knifestyles of the rich and famous... If it needs lifting, tucking, smoothing, sucking out or puffing up, Toby Mayer’s number is the one that all Tinseltown calls. From his office, a mere diamond bracelet’s toss from Harry Winston in Beverly Hills (and yes, the area code really is 90210), Mayer ministers to the needs of the rich and determinedly un-wrinkled. He chisels noses, whittles chins, and sculpts cheekbones so subtly, you can’t tell it’s been done. Thighs are smoothed, stomachs flattened eye bags made to disappear and, most importantly, egos boosted by the work of Mayer’s miracle scalpel. He may not be God but, as the answer to the panicky prayers of everyone whose face and figure is their fortune, in Hollywood, hey, he’s close enough. In person, Mayer is smooth, urbane, with a tan the right side of George Hamilton tangerine and a fit, 53-year-old physique that is an impressive testament to that typically Californian, ‘all-fat-is-slow-suicide’ diet - ‘my secretary always picks up something light for lunch, some chicken, a little pasta . . . ‘ Three afternoons a week you’ll find him on the polo field. Of his 14 polo ponies, only one has gone under the knife. A mole was removed ‘as a favour’ although to whom - horse or rider? - is unclear. |
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