In January 2014 Cara Delevnigne and Michelle Rodriguez posted a picture of themselves with IV drips attached to their inner arms, apparently they were rehydrating after the holiday season.
As much as I hoped, that drip never did become readily available to the general public for anything short of a small fortune.
So, like a brave human guinea pig, in search of the ultimate hangover cure, I got drunk for a week and tested some.
I scoured the internet (coconut water keeps coming up, which unless is the stuff that's been turned into caffeinated Frappe, doesn't work).
I slyly observed the friend that always seems to have 'just one more' but still runs an 8am breakfast meeting.
I did the thing no one wants to do.
I even turned to the NHS.
Here's what I found out…
Pocari Sweat
It's basically Japanese Lucozade with a ridiculous name. This is for people who like to diary in their hangovers as it requires a trip to Piccadilly's Japan Center or preordering on Amazon.
Luckily for me, my promise to the ELLE team that I'd find the ultimate hangover cure meant I'd stocked up. I'm not normally one to plan a hangover - I've never understood people who booked the day after the Christmas party off work. I'm more of a 'how the hell did I end up like this?' hangover patient.
On waking up after a night of free pouring Aperol, the knowledge that one of these trusty little blue cans was lying in my fridge definitely made the first two minutes of the day more hopeful.
The packaging is very reassuring. As is the name. It's contents are likened to human sweat (nom nom) and it's meant to contain all the salts, sugars and electrolytes your body needs. In reality it's like a cold, flat, posh lemonade, except a little saltier.
My throat is possibly more thankful than my head, but it's still sort of delicious and feels mildly restorative. No diss to Lucozade, but there's something about treating your hangover to a well-designed tin that beats an orange bottle bought from a Texaco any day.
Bouillion
The NHS's page on hangover treatments reads like your Nan who's never allowed herself more than a sip of Baileys wrote it. It's very condescending and might as well just say 'serves you right'.
As if a hangover wasn't punishment enough, it lists Boullion as a recommended treatment. Boullion is powdered vegetable stock. I had some in the cupboard left over from a long gone, soup-making health kick.
After ending a night with Espresso Martinis (the best hangover tip - they should only ever start a night) I mixed up a stocky cup-a-soup for my morning beverage.
NO NHS! No!
If anything is going to make you feel more queasy it's warm vegetables in liquid form and the lingering smell that accompanies them.
In short, don't do it.
Stick to one drink
OK, firstly you have to choose a drink, making sure it's not Vodka Redbulls or Cider. People swear by red-wine-only-nights for zero hangovers, but I can't get past the red wine (hole of doom) mouth.
I choose beer.
While my friends start on Prosecco and move on to Gin and Tonics with a Negroni or two thrown in the mix for good measure, I swig Coronas like I'm on a beach in Tulum not a pub with an open fire. The first two taste amazing, the fourth is a slight chore and by the fifth it's taken on a strange metallic taste.
But, alas, after downing a pint of water in the middle of the night I wake up with a headache. Though, only a smallish one and a coffee and some porridge fixes it pretty easily.
For a night out drinking, this is a little boring, but it does work.
The next time I have to go out drinking and have to get a plane the next day/go to work this is what I will do.
Hair of the dog
The antidote to the poison is the poison itself.
This shouldn't work but, oh boy it does. The NHS says: '"Hair of the dog" – drinking more alcohol – does not help. Drinking in the morning is a risky habit, and you may simply be delaying the appearance of symptoms until the alcohol wears off again.'
Now, I'm not suggesting that you wake up and immediately pour yourself another, but the day after, with pub lunch, a Bloody Mary, half a Cider or a pint of Bitter Shandy have all saved me.
Yes, they may just dull the hangover and delay the pain, but if you can do that until you're safely back on the couch with a huge pile of mashed potatoes in your belly then it works wonders.
The problem is that you have to schedule in two days of drinking and who has the time or the skin for that?
Surfing
I live in London, so improvise. The cure lies in submerging yourself in cold water so London Fields Lido it is. This works. Totally and utterly.
Every single fiber of my being was saying no before I entered the water. But once in, the water became an immediate hiatus from all pain.
I felt brave, smug and dreamy – three words I have never used to describe my delicate post-drinking self before. Getting out is hard and sitting on the top-deck of a bus with damp hair wasn't part of the dreamy bit. I still felt smug though. Hangover 0, Me 1.
In (hiccup) conclusion
None of these alone replaces the breakfast of champions: a lie in, two Nurofen, a white Americano and a bacon sandwich (ketchup and brown sauce). But I did learn cold water is your friend and that I'd rather a beer belly than a hangover.
Same again please Mister.
