Dermatologists existed back then but most of my friends used over the counter medications and washes. My mother marched down to the local pharmacy (no Walgreen's, Rite Aid or CVS in the neighborhood) to talk to the pharmacist who was the equivalent of today's primary care physician, Web MD or Google. We left the drug store with several remedies.
A soap for cleansing the skin to use twice a day.
I loved the ad as it was a sign of the times and gave me "new hope" for the acne and condition that made my face look like a deep fryer. You could see me coming a mile away from the shine.
After washing my face, I would apply a lotion (a primitive version of today's toners) that burned like hell and was really an astringent. If it was supposed to correct the ph of my skin, it was killing it.
Clearasil also made a balm that was applied on certain "tough" pimples. Between Clearasil, a concoction my mother applied to my ugliest pimples made out of toothpaste and apple cider vinegar (don't ask - more burn - no pain, no gain, right?) and a prayer, I hoped to wake up with porcelain skin with the touch of a baby's bottom...fat chance. Sometimes my mother suggested I use Witch Hazel in place of the other astringent from time to time.
This meticulous skin care routine came with a specific impossible direction: do not pick or squeeze your blemishes or it would cause scarring. This was probably the most important part of my skin care routine but at the age of 15, you just HAD to squeeze that pimple to get the gunk out before your friends saw it. Indeed, it was important. I know many who squeezed a bit too hard and left a scar.
For the next three years, I religiously took care of my skin in this fashion with great discipline - no moisturizer, alcohol based toners to "disinfect" and an occasional salve on a stubborn pimple.
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