Plastic Surgeon In Aisle 2!
At Sears, Dr. Rey Trims Women's Bottom Lines

By Monica Hesse
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, June 9, 2008

"Relax, everyone," says the man in sunglasses to his giggling fans, stethoscope slung about neck. "The doctor is in the house."

Technically, the doctor is in the Sears.

Robert Rey, better known as the Brazilian-born plastic surgeon on E!'s "Dr. 90210," came to the Silver Spring store on Saturday for two reasons.

One: To bring "beautiful boobies and bellies" to the masses with his body-shaping collection of corsets and hip slimmers. He's hit about 30 Sears stores nationwide since Dr. Rey's Shapewear, co-designed with lingerie designer Bruno Schiavi, launched last fall.

Two: To convince all of the women everywhere that they are "gorgeous, baby, gorgeous."

"I got some offers to go to the high-faluting stores" with his line, he says. "But I want to reach my girls, the girls who watch the show."

Those girls arrived 45 minutes early to secure places in line. Teens and grandmas, fat and thin, wearing heels and mascara and hairspray. The female store employees have abandoned their posts to cluster around the platform where Rey greets and caresses each of the 50-some guests.

"Babies," Rey addresses the crowd. "Babies, what are some of women's trouble spots?"

"Tummies," someone says.

"Bottoms," from another.

"Outer thighs."

" Inner thighs."

"Inner knees."

All of women's naked insecurities, on display in Sears.

Dr. Rey, 46, smiles benevolently. He loves them just as they are. He thinks God is mean, to make breasts sag the way they do. But sag they do, so help he must. He completed plastic surgery fellowships at Harvard and the University of Tennessee, but is not board-certified in plastic surgery. (Board certification is not legally required to practice specialty medicine.)

And his real qualification here at Sears seems to be the way he looks at you.

"He knows exactly what women want," breathes Relyd Browning of Takoma Park. She's first in line, wearing a black and pink dress for the occasion, accompanied by a husband who will snap her photo when she meets the doctor. "He makes you feel so good inside."

"He's so fiery and passionate," says Stephanie Burres of College Park. "And when he does surgeries for the poor . . ."

"Dr. 90210," which began airing in 2004, focuses on the professional and personal lives of several plastic surgeons, each of whom has a private practice and wealthy clientele in the Los Angeles area. Rey specializes in breast work, liposuction and rhinoplasty, sprinkled with humanitarian projects. In one episode, he traveled to Mexico to repair cleft palates of impoverished children.

Rey exists at the junction of sexy and ridiculous, famous for cutting the sleeves off of his scrubs to better display his biceps. Today, he wears a gray suit and a blue shirt, open halfway to his stomach. His bare chest, smooth and expansive as a billboard, advertises a tangle of silver chains.

His favorite subject, the one he comes back to again and again: "I am obsessed with women."

Loves them. At Sears, he dispenses elaborate messages with each autograph. He swears each one is different.

"I saw that beautiful smile in line and it kept me going," he writes for Dory Wink. "You are gorgeous inside and out. Keep the faith. 2 Timothy 4:7."

Catherine Uruburo, traveling with her young daughter, gets "You are one hot, yummy mommy."

Tee-hee.

He's not selling Shapewear. (Well, he is selling Shapewear: bottom sculptors run $27, the most expensive corset is $60.) But he's also selling confidence. He's selling bold, fawning attention from a medical professional. He's seen 11,000 naked women and he thinks you are hot stuff. Perhaps women should be beyond craving these compliments, but it just feels so good.

Sunila Rogers wasn't going to buy anything today; these days she chooses between food and gas. After meeting Rey it becomes food, gas or Shapewear. "If you want to go get something to eat, you have to pick me up and pay," Rogers jokes. "But I'll look good."

Onto the stage, two of Rey's assistants bring Shalini Aurora from Odenton. She has been recruited to demonstrate the miracle of the waist cincher.

"It's very comfortable," Aurora says into the microphone. "My pants are falling off."

Her waist had been 44 inches. Now it's 43. The crowd bursts into applause. Aurora beams.

"My pants are falling off," she says again. A few onlookers snap pictures with their cellphones.

This is the second time that Aurora, who works in tech support for Verizon, has met Rey. She was also the winner of a Home Shopping Network sweepstakes a few months back. The prize was a trip to Los Angeles and lunch with the doctor.

"I used to pray someday he would work on me," she says. But during that lunch, she suddenly forgot all about the surgery.

"He just looks at you," she says. "And says, 'Stay beautiful, just the way you are.' "

"Mom, are you crying?" Aurora's grade school son, Neil, asks.

"No, I'm not crying," she says. A pause. "But I did cry the first time I met him."

Of course, not every woman's experience is so transformative. Carla Fleiri stands in line, waiting patiently for her autograph.

Has she been planning for this event for a while?

"Actually," she says, "I was just shopping for a refrigerator."