Exberliner Issue 138, May 2015

SPOTLIGHT
The men in the mirror
An illustrated man and
a Botox fan explain how
addictive it is to change the
way you look. By Jill Blackmore Evans.
Photos by Arvid Samland
“Botox is kind of an addiction,” says make-up
artist and stylist Nicolas Henneberg, 23. He gets
the procedure every three months. “Once you
feel you can start moving your forehead again,
you know you want to go back.” According to
Henneberg, Botox doesn’t hurt at all. Your face
simply feels a bit numb afterwards, like after
you’ve been to the dentist.
Henneberg began his regimen at age 18,
thanks to a circle of friends in the Berlin film
and TV industry. “I started at a Botox party,
at a friend’s flat in Charlottenburg,” he says.
“And I liked it, so I kept doing it. I actually just
went yesterday!” he adds with a laugh. He also
gets soft tissue fillers injected about every six
months, intended to make the face appear fuller
and younger.
According to Henneberg, it’s becoming increasingly
common for teenagers to start Botox
early – as a preventative measure intended to
stop wrinkles from ever forming. “Some people
say that age makes a person look more interesting,
but I don’t really think so.” Botox needs to
be injected every three to six months to keep
you looking fresh, and getting a fix isn’t cheap:
one session typically costs a minimum of €300.
Luckily for Henneberg, as a friend of one of
Berlin’s top plastic surgeons, he gets his for half
the usual price.
Rigo Pitschmann, 30, is also obsessed with
changing his skin. He estimates that he has
spent about €21,000 on tattoos by 34 different
artists, covering most of his body. “Every
time I get a new tattoo, I’m like a newborn,”
Pitschmann says, sitting in Schöneberg’s B52
Tattoo, drinking a Coca-Cola. “I come from the
studio with a big grin on my face. It really is like
Christmas morning for a child.” Pitschmann,
who works as a bodyguard as well as a tattoo
artist, says his obsession started early: “It goes
way back to my childhood, when I would tag all
over my arm with a pen. Later, I’d get stick-on
tattoos.” Pitschmann’s parents were strictly
against real tats, so, at 15, he faked his mum’s
signature in order to get his first piece, a nowfaded
red heart on his right arm. “From there on
I was hooked.”
It’s hardly surprising for a tattoo artist to be
tattooed head to toe, but for Pitschmann, it’s the
experience that matters the most. “I quite simply
find great pleasure in the noise of the needle
and the machine and the pain of it touching my
skin,” he says. “It’s like acupuncture for me. It’s
just a very relaxing and pleasant experience.” In
the past 15 years, the longest he’s gone without a
new piece was seven weeks – at the end of which
”I felt really moody,” he says. “There was a time
when I would come to this studio every week.
There always had to be a chair saved for me, in
case I spontaneously wanted something new. It
really was the peak of my addiction.”
Henneberg and Pitschmann may look different,
but they have the same defiant attitude about
their physical appearance. Henneberg says he
doesn’t understand why some people value the
natural look so much: “They believe you have to
be the way God made you, or whatever,” he says.
“But I think that’s kind of stupid.” For his part,
Pitschmann says that he hates looking at photos
of himself without tattoos. His infatuation has
taken precedence over careers and relationships:
“I applied for a job as a banker once, and of course
they didn’t want me. As they shook my hand and
saw my tattoos on it, they refused me instantly.”
This is why tattoos are off limits for his son, now
aged six: “He already said he wants his own tattoo,
but I said no way. It does close a lot of doors, jobwise.”
He adds, “I have had girlfriends who’ve said
to me enough was enough, giving me an ultimatum.
I always chose the tattoos.”
“I think a lot about eternity,” says
Pitschmann, who considers himself religious.
“And when the day comes when it’s my turn to
leave, I can say that I’ll bring my tattoos with
me.” He’s planning his next one right now. Although
the design is still a secret, he says it will
cover one of the last empty spaces he has left on
his body: his scalp. Henneberg’s also thinking
about the future. “I would get a nose job,” he
says. “I love plastic surgery.” n
Additional reporting by Peer Jon Ørsted.
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