BlackBook Magazine

The Upper East Side cosmetic dermatologist is cutting out to L.A. with his ‘Nip/Tuck’ business (just like that TV show!). Will Hollywood ever look the same?

“I made the biggest lips in the world,” says Dr. Steven Victor, chewing on a Twizzler and leaning back in a chair in his office, located across the street from the tony Carlyle Hotel. Those flubber-licious lips were bestowed upon a Penthouse pinup girl. Victor is proud of this, as he is proud of all of his deletions and inflations.

His practice knows no demographic boundaries. From strippers to socialites, they come. “Dr. Lookgood,” Victor’s nickname, is a standout cosmetic dermatologist to the stars of all walks—and industries—in a galaxy of lesser, self-publicizing plastic surgeons. His clients include Sarah Ferguson, Vogue columnist and author Plum Sykes, and socialite Ann Dexter-Jones. Those are the rare few who will admit it. Off the record, the grocery list of bold-faced names that walk through his no-fuss office dazzles. “Everybody wants to hide,” Victor says, smiling slyly. Which is why his upcoming Beverly Hills office, scheduled to open next month on swanky Canon Drive, will come equipped with a paparazzi-proof back door.

Far from the fake-tan, TV-ready “Dr. 90210,” the Manhattan-pale Victor cuts a striking figure that’s part Count Dracula, part your Uncle Al, circa the early ’60s. The imposing white bouffant and dark suits—along with his 6-foot-2 frame—are offset by the easy smile and unpretentious New Jersey tawk.

It’s not too hard to picture his Studio 54 days, of which there were, as he tells it, many. “It was Vietnam, it was rock ’n’ roll, and New York was the playground of the world,” he says. “I knew Mick Jagger, Mick Jones, Rod Stewart. I was friends with Steve Rubell.” In fact, Studio 54 owner Rubell and partner Ian Schrager often enlisted Victor to deal with interlopers. “You weren’t supposed to take pictures, but Patrick McMullan used to sneak in his Kodak camera,” Victor says. “Steve and Ian would run after Patrick, yelling at me, ‘Get the camera! Get the camera!’”

To make it easier for clients who are under the constant scrutiny of tabloid culture, Victor promotes cutting-edge “rejuvenation” services that minimize bruising and scarring. SmartLipo, which Victor recently had performed on his own neck, is a procedure that extracts fat cells and tightens skin but doesn’t require the girdles and vacation days that traditional liposuction dictates. “We had a major celebrity come in on a Tuesday night, and we did [SmartLipo on] her whole body,” says Victor. “She performed on Thursday night on television. In a mini-dress! Basically naked! And she looked great.” That look cost approximately $12,000. (Lesser SmartLipo, say, removing the chub around a woman’s armpits, costs about $4,000.)

If only all of his clients were so easy. “Everybody thinks celebrities are really secure people, but they’re not,” Victor says. Case in point: Last year, OK! Magazine broke the story that Victor had SmartLipo-ed the entire Osbourne clan, weeks before the actual appointment. “It caused a little grief,” he says. “They wanted to sue me, they wanted to sue the magazine, they wanted to kill me! And the funny thing about [Sharon Osbourne] is that she tells everybody that she had plastic surgery. She says she had liposuction, she had this, she had that, and all of a sudden she has a nervous breakdown. She had a hissy fit on me. And we don’t know why.”

Apart from the expected celebrity nips and tucks, Victor has fielded some particular requests in his 30 years of practice. One gentleman asked that the hair be removed from his right butt cheek, exclusively. Another asked for electrolysis in the shape of the “Superman” logo on his chest (the latter request was denied, albeit gently; simply too detailed to pull off). Escort girls often attempt to barter their bodies with him. He says, “I’d really rather get paid.” (No wonder. Victor is pretty set up with his daggers-blonde wife Anna Rhodes, who helms his beauty product line.) He concedes, “Ladies love their cosmetic surgeons.”

This year, Victor will expand his practice, launching a dozen new outposts in cities from Lakeside, New Jersey to Shanghai. His skincare line, Dr. Steven Victor MD, is a big seller at New York’s Saks Fifth Avenue (where he has staged several goodie-bag fêtes) and at Harvey Nichols in London. Ultimately, he doesn’t really understand the discretion in it all—this Fountain of Youth thing. “I don’t see why people hide it, personally,” he says. “I’ve had Botox, Sculptra, SmartLipo, laser treatments. At 56 years old, I can still look good. Why should anyone look old and tired?”

Photo by Mike Ruffino