The (Digitized) Eye of the Beholder

By Philip Elmer-DeWitt.

In the Beverly Hills office of Dr. Barry Weintraub, Leila Ali, an Iranian- born clothing designer, stares at an image of her face on a television screen, fascinated by its changing profile. Beside her, the doctor manipulates a stylus on an electromagnetic pad. As they watch, the nose on Ali's TV image undergoes a subtle transformation, becoming less prominent and more turned up.

Not far away, at Bullock's department store in Sherman Oaks, Calif., Cathy- Lee Vincent, a store employee, is transfixed by the televised image of her face as electronic "makeup" is applied, cleaned off and then reapplied in a rainbow of hues and shades. As Bonnie Sinclair, a promotional representative for Elizabeth Arden cosmetics, wields her stylus, a smear of eye shadow reshapes Vincent's eyes. A touch of blusher highlights her cheeks.

Ali, Vincent and thousands of other Americans are benefiting from an ingenious union of computer and video technology that enables clients and customers to see how they will look with reshaped features, restyled cosmetics, the latest suit or a new head of hair--all before they commit their flesh to the scalpel or their cash to a purchase. The new systems are easing the qualms of prospective cosmetic-surgery patients, making life easier for their doctors and boosting sales in department stores nationwide.

Dr. Weintraub already considers his video camera, electronic tablet and IBM PC AT to be tools of his trade, enabling him to "talk to his patients through a picture." The technology, he says, stems from "the thought that you can capture a human image and develop the software to manipulate its parts." Weintraub captures the image of a new patient with his camera, stores a digitized record of it in his computer and then uses his stylus to smooth over wrinkles and remove unsightly bumps. Invoking a software program developed with the help of Artist Nancy Burson for electronically "aging" photographs of missing children, he may even stretch or shrink portions of the face. Ali, for one, was enthralled and reassured by the computer wizardry, and decided on the spot to be resculpted. "I was so excited," she says. "I had seen myself after surgery, and I wasn't scared anymore."

Vincent was one of the first to try the computerized makeup system after it was set up at Bullock's. Sitting in front of the computer, she was photographed by a video camera mounted above it and immediately saw her image projected on the screen. Then her beautician, using a stylus to choose brushes and colors from palettes displayed across the top of the screen, made over the image of her face to achieve three different "looks" (two for daytime, one for evening). These were then compared with the original on a four-part split screen. "It's fantastic," says Vincent. "It enabled me to have a lot of creativity with my makeup, to see how I can experiment with colors I wouldn't normally buy."

In the Virginia Beach salon of Hairstylist Dennis Jones, candidates for ) hairpieces make use of a similar computer video system. A stylist electronically fills in bald regions on the video image of a prospective client's head while the customer decides where he would like his new hair parted and his hairline to begin. In L.S. Ayres department stores in Fort Wayne, Ind.; Indianapolis; and Cincinnati, a device called the Magic Mirror enables customers to try on dozens of garments without a single trip to the dressing room. The contraption was the brainchild of Parisian Inventor Jean Claude Bourdier, who was inspired by the sight of faces and clothes superimposed on the windows of subway cars as they sped through brightly lit Metro stations. His system uses a partially reflective mirror and a computer- driven slide projector to show customers how they would look in any of 80 stylish outfits. "Many of today's clothes lack hanger appeal," says Claudia Ryan, the Ayres vice president who imported the system from France. "The mirror is definitely business getting."

Sales figures bear that out. The three Ayres stores equipped with the device accounted for as much as an 800% increase in sales of some lines, far outdistancing the branches relying solely on dressing rooms. Similarly, the sales of Elizabeth Arden cosmetics regularly enjoy a fivefold increase when one of the company's traveling Beauty Makeover Computers pays a visit to a Marshall Field's in Chicago, Rich's in Atlanta, Macy's in New York City or other major department stores.

Not everyone is entranced by the magic machines. Some medical specialists familiar with the three-dimensional imaging systems used in complex reconstructive surgery point out that the two-dimensional images employed by cosmetic surgeons provide guidance that is, well, only skin deep. Others are concerned that cosmetic surgeons who use the computer aids to make promises they cannot keep may be exposing themselves to possible malpractice suits. "There is an implicit warranty of a certain result," says Dr. H. George Brennan, vice president of the American Academy of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery. "But just because something is drawn on the screen doesn't mean it can be delivered in the operating room."

Still as long as the systems are drawing customers and soothing the fears of patients, they are likely to proliferate. Arden has built more than a dozen additional "Elizabeth" computers and scheduled visits to 130 department stores and beauty shops this year. Not to be outdone, Shiseido, the Japanese ! cosmetics giant, has toured 20 cities in Europe and Japan with its own computerized Make-up Simulator. Fifteen Shiseido machines will be visiting the U.S. this summer. At that rate, it may not be long before the computers start wearing out their welcome. L.S. Ayres, which prides itself on being innovative, is already having second thoughts. While Betsy Hansen, a manager for cosmetics, still promotes visits by Elizabeth Arden computers, she limits their stay in any store to roughly two weeks at a time. After that, she says, "the novelty wears off, and the people who have to run the machine get exhausted." The computers, of course, never get tired.

With reporting by Barbara Kraft/Los Angeles