Blame it on too much screen time, spent staring at our flawed faces trapped in tiny Zoom squares or squinting at unforgiving bathroom mirrors, wiped way too clean during hygiene-obsessed, housebound months, but the face we used to present to the world suddenly appears unrecognisable.

Either we’ve found ourselves falling into the chasm of not giving a damn or the abyss of ageing: I spy, with my hooded eye, deepening “11’s” (worry lines between furrowed brows), parentheses (creased nasolabial folds) and turkey neck (chin wattles), with a side order of (don’t look down) clinkles (cleavage wrinkles). Maybe we should’ve worn bras in lockdown, after all!

If 2021 was the year of living vicariously (“I can’t go on”), then 2022 might turn out to be the year of living transitionally (“I’ll go on.”) We can learn to co-exist with uncertainties, but as we ready ourselves for coming-out parties, we can’t seem to remember where we’ve left our brave faces. Our lives may have been on hold, but the gravitational pull of living in an upside-down world has done a number on our bodies and souls; the bottom has dropped out and we could use a lift.

When considering little-and-often fixes, from injectables like the facial filler Restylane to the muscle-relaxant toxin Botox, some of us mull more drastic and costly cosmetic surgery procedures, from blepharoplasty (eyelid lift), neck and jawline contouring (platysmaplasty), to a rhytidectomy (facelift) step which literally means wrinkle (rhytid) removal (ectomy).

Jennifer Aniston, 52 and Reese Witherspoon, 45. Neither have admitted to tweakments or plastic surgery (beyond Jen’s nose job for a deviated septum) putting their fresh looks down to exercise, green juice, a good skincare routine and nightly baths with Epsom salts.

Journalist Joan Kron wrote the seminal book on plastic surgery and, although published in 1998, Lift: Wanting, Fearing and Having a Face-Lift still resonates as it addresses profound and relevant issues around getting work done; a consultation with a reputable surgeon will provide up-to-date information on the latest available techniques, costs and risk/reward ratios to consider. The barometer of a successful nip and tuck should include looking mysteriously refreshed, post-op seams practically invisible; more difficult to gauge is surgery’s ability to recalibrate our reflection to align more closely with our inner age. Test the metric: I just turned _, but I feel _. Then do your research.

If the cost of going under the knife is too steep (both in financial terms and commitment required), a slash of red lipstick could be the lift you need. Crave a change of scenery? Consider reimagining your own piece of real estate. In “The New Makeup Is Meant to Be Seen”, Rachel Strugatz writes in The New York Times about how the pandemic has upended our relationship to beauty. “Modern make-up is meant to reflect what’s going on inside; it isn’t about looking hot or as if you’re not wearing any at all – it’s colourful, expressive, imperfect and meant to be seen.”

The thrill of finally showing our faces again has, at its core, the human need to be seen. Run with it; the new rule is that there are no rules. Want a big bold eye framed by flirty fake lashes, sans foundation? Pourquoi pas? You do you. Going grey: good for some, ghastly on you? Do your roots, baby, or better yet, Beyoncé your bonce; check out the wig tutorials on YouTube, then order up a Queen B blonde balayage or a blue black bob, à la Katy Perry.

We’re warned not to judge a book by its cover, but when you’re a cracking good read, you deserve a worthy jacket! The desire to be seen transcends age, yet as we age, productive if not reproductive, with vital inner lives, we struggle with invisibility. Keep the porch light on.