shopping for surgery; From extreme makeovers to subtle nips and tucks, plastic surgery is the new cultural obsession.

Byline: Ariel Levy

We have always known that plastic surgery carries with it inherent risks. But until

recently this was a fuzzy sort of recognition, a distant concern. Cosmetic procedures seemed dangerous the way sushi seemed dangerous, which is to say that the danger could be warded off with enough money, research, and common sense (no eating yellowtail in empty, anonymous Japanese restaurants; no champagne-fueled impulse injections at Botox parties in Miami). But that was before two women died in the space of two months while undergoing elective procedures at the Manhattan Eye, Ear & Throat Hospital (MEETH), one of the city's finest cosmetic-surgery facilities, and before Dean Faiello-a sometime go-go dancer posing as a New York dermatologist-grabbed international headlines when he was arrested sipping cocktails poolside in Costa Rica, where he was hiding from U.S. authorities.

Faiello's was the worst example of the back-alley-doctor horror stories that have begun filtering into the news with disturbing frequency: He had a history of practicing medicine without a license and was wanted for the murder of Maria Cruz, a woman he allegedly entombed in concrete beneath his former New Jersey residence after she experienced a fatal reaction to anesthesia during illegally performed laser surgery.

While Cruz's death was shocking, the MEETH fatalities were almost incomprehensible. The first occurred on January 7, 2004, when 54-year-old novelist Olivia Goldsmith, author of The First Wives Club, admitted herself to MEETH for a chin tuck. She had undergone several successful procedures there in the past with surgeon Norman Pastorek, M.D., but this time she fell into a coma from which she did not recover. Just over one month later, 54-year-old

Susan Malitz, a urologist's wife, died at MEETH during a routine facelift. Her doctor was Sherrell Aston, M.D., the hospital's chairman of plastic surgery, widely considered one of New York's most talented surgeons. Aston had worked with elegant results on many of society's most well known and perennially wrinkle-free faces.

The truth is, we have become a society seduced by the promise of instant, sometimes radical change. Network programs like Extreme Makeover and The Swan detail the graphic realities of outrageous overhauls, with hopeful patients signing up as if for a game show. MTV has begun airing the controversial I Want a Famous Face, in which 20-somethings undergo everything from breast enhancement to chin implants in order to look more like their favorite stars-Julia Roberts, Britney Spears, even Elvis Presley among them. Aesthetic surgery is now a badge proudly worn.