A poo facial mask – smaller pores, yes, but do you really want faeces on your face?

I’m giving it a try to see if there’s anything cheaper, an at-home version. Currently, the techniques used in Western salons to beautify are unfamiliar to Japanese elite women, who have been using face masks made of nightingale droppings for centuries. Please let me explain. I am standing in the bathroom, with all my face covered in excrement.

If someone desires to be young forever, does it mean that they want to spend an eternity in the bathroom, with their face covered in feces? And do their nightingales shoot magic out of their sewers?

Is it, in a way, scraped off a tree’s bark using a credit card? I would feel more at ease if the substance was then packaged for customers to apply on their faces. After being dehydrated and ground into a powder, the waste is separated: microorganisms, deceased bacterial remains, fungal spores, insect exoskeletons, and more. Their excrement undergoes UV sterilization and two companies, approved by the Japanese government, produce this item on farms where free-range birds are fed organic seeds. It sounds accurate. The website declares, “Uguisu Poo’s facial mask (Uguisu, 30g, £17.99) is created using the ancient and not-so-fun production method.”

Is it worth trying the voluntary use of scatology? Advocates claim that it reduces the appearance of pores and clears acne. This technique is frequently used by Buddhist monks and kabuki actors, earning the facial geisha the nickname “geisha makeup.” The Japanese have observed how efficiently it removes makeup, leaving the skin clear and bright, and have applied this idea to skincare. The Koreans were the first to use bird feces to strip dye from clothes. The Japanese name for the warbler bird species is “uguisu,” which translates to “poo bird” in a playful attempt to clarify its different origin from the nightingale.

No fun: ‘Did the nightingales of Berkeley Square know about this? Is that what they were up in arms about?’ Photograph: Graeme Robertson/The Guardian

I don’t find the smell of this product to be like bird’s poo. I have read reviews that claim the product is odorless. Some of it goes in my mouth. I choose to mix a small amount of warm water with it, which produces a foul pancake batter. The powder can be added to any face wash or made into a face mask. It has a faintly sour and sandy color. Doubts about the product abound as I puff a cloud of it from the bullet-shaped container.

Illuminating or clarifying potions are often discussed when it comes to everyday beauty products that claim to lighten things up. However, it makes me uncomfortable to see that creams sold in various countries, including India, label themselves as WHITENING without disclosing the active ingredients. I am waiting for the musky, dry mask to reveal its skin-perfecting and brightening effects, but the language used by the dermatology industry on this topic is something I ponder.

I have never felt less posh in my life. The fact that Victoria Beckham is a fan of guano treatments doesn’t make the experience any more palatable. After 10 minutes, the paste has dried to a white finish, which smells even more unpleasant and hardly noxious.

I stood in the bathroom facing my overall mess. In my other hand, I had a recommended exfoliating agent that suggests using salicylic acid, which gives a tingling sensation. If my skin feels dry and tight, it tends to look extremely matte. I notice that my pores appear smaller. I take the time to examine and rinse off the beauty product.

Is it fun to be in that? Where is the fun in that? But it would be more straightforward to deflush my cheeks with urea synthesis. Urea and guanine are active ingredients produced in the colon of the warbler, yet they possess an exotic hype to feather oneself. Nightingale facials are weird and unnecessary, yet they are not ineffective.

Why do I know about the nightingales of Square Berkeley? What is that they were up to with their arms? Do you know about this? It’s because the caged bird sings and it wants to rub its acne scars on you, not because it speaks the language of poop bird facials or whatever fun no language they speak.

I don’t actually want to become whiter. I already like brunch, vintage shopping and pointlessly walking around, so I’m already at risk.

Wellness or hellness?

If the Scatman is capable of accomplishing it, no one else should. 2/5.