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Article from the Times... The damon dazzler is dental jewellery - the tiffany brace My father’s fear of the dentist’s chair was such that he ceased smiling in the mid-Seventies and never resumed. Our family dentist was an unusually patrician individual for Birmingham, with a character that made one question what side he had favoured during the war. His greeting was always the same: “I had a cat called Hannah. It died.” Meanwhile, my siblings and I were busy developing our own dental practice. I excelled in the extraction of milk teeth; my brothers in the restyling of adult incisors by means of hoe, pitchfork and fist. As a consequence, my teeth have a frilly, crazily-paved effect
that I like to think lends me a piratical air. Until I have my photograph
taken and realise that I too have no smile, merely a sub-Gioconda
smirk. I am brooding on such matters as I enter the very temple
of grins, rinsing and spitting distance from Harley Street. Elleven
Orthodontics is all smiles. Big, fat, moodily lit, “You changed
my life” simpers. Vast, cheesy, “Look at my fabulous teeth”
beams. Hateful really, if the excitement about the transformations
on offer wasn’t so infectious. Dr Neil Counihan showed me around,
a droll and engaging character with beguilingly natural-looking
choppers, the kind of stuff that Nature herself might knock out
were she having a particularly good day. Neil trained in Blighty
and the US, and worked in America for several years because he admired
its can-do (as oppose to won’t-floss) attitude. He and his
colleague, Dr Eric Tonge, decided to bring something of this attitude
back home when they set up elleven 18 months ago. It has proved
a tremendous hit, its elegantly appointed premises crammed with
beautiful people making themselves that bit more beautiful (some
even throw glamorous gnasher parties). |
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