A pierced septum used to be reserved for punks and cows. But the look - let's call it bovine chic - has gone mainstream, with herds of young women having bolts, rings and spikes put through the fleshy bit in their nasal passage.
Parents who worry what their offspring get up to during the holidays no longer have to fear them coming home with an undercover tattoo. This year, the damage will be immediately obvious.
In fact, there has been such demand that, according to a study published this year by Northwestern University, the septum is now one of the five most common body parts for piercing, both for men and women, in the UK.
The movement was started by celebrities. Earlier this week, Madonna revealed a septum piercing on her Instagram page - a gold stone-set ring featuring the letter M.
She was following in the footsteps of her 18-year-old daughter, Lourdes, who wore a nose ring to the Met Gala after-party, in May.
Singers Lady Gaga and FKA Twigs are also fans of the piercing, as is Ellie Goulding, who has been pictured sporting a nose ring at the gym. Jessica Biel and Rihanna have worn them at red carpet events - though it's unclear who opted for a faux, clip-on ring and who went the whole hog (or should that be bull?)
"We've definitely seen a rise in people asking for septum piercings over the last six months," says Francieli Franke, a specialist at Angelic Hell in south-west London. "I'd say one in 10 people want one." Franke, who has one herself, says "it's such a beautiful piercing". Indeed, she spoke so highly of septum rings that I decided to go under the needle.
My procedure took place in a brightly lit subterranean studio. First, my piercer fetched a big silver clamp and attached it to my septum. This took two attempts; the first time he clamped it too high, nipping my cartilage before it slipped off.
With the clamp attached, he picked up a frighteningly big needle - the kind you'd need to rebutton a macintosh. As I was sitting upright, I could see the weapon very clearly. The sight of it made me feel decidedly faint.
He then inserted it, with a sickening crunch, through my Nasal wall. My eyes streamed, my arms twitched and my stomach churned. I also broke out in a cold, panic-induced sweat. It was, by far, the most painful piercing I've ever had. Worse than the ears (school), the eyebrow (Thailand), the nostril (India), and even the tongue (Essex).
Through the nausea, I then had a delicate little ring threaded through the puncture wound, which crunched again. It was at this point he decided to say: "I really don't know why people have this done."
For the first few days, I hated the piercing. I couldn't understand why so many people were having it done. I found myself apologising for it in public and trying to conceal it (by twisting it up inside my sore nose). The reaction from family and friends didn't help. "You look hideous," wrote my mother underneath a picture I posted on Facebook. "Seriously minging," added a friend underneath.
I had decided to take it out. But then I ran into a woman who also had one, and she told me how pretty it made me look, that it suited me and that it would grow on me. And, by Jove, she was right. I've started to really love it. This piercing really does grow on you. Indeed, this is why the septum trend is spreading. Parents, family and friends may think it looks hideously bovine, but the wearer thinks it fabulous. And there's even a plus side for parents if their rebellious teenager gets their septum speared. If she is badly behaved, just give the ring a tug. It works for cows, after all.