Independent skincare and ingredient guidance. I read the studies behind the claims on the front of the bottle and tell you how strong they really are — including when the honest answer is “thinly supported”.
I say “that is thinly supported” more often than I say “this is a gamechanger”. That is the whole job.
I have worked with skin for years, and I spend a slightly unreasonable amount of my own time reading the actual papers behind the claims on the packaging. Most of what I do is not recommending products. It is sorting out which claims have data underneath them, how strong that data is, and which ones are a texture being described in scientific language.
I test one product at a time, for at least four weeks, starting on a patch on my forearm. Every test goes into a notebook by hand, because “I think it is a bit better?” is not data and my memory is not either.
What I will not do: tell you a ninety-dollar cream replaces a procedure, call anything a miracle, diagnose anything, or pretend that the routine which suits my skin will suit yours.
All of it is guidance and evidence, in writing, that you keep. None of it is diagnosis or treatment.
We go through everything you currently own. What stays, what goes, what order it belongs in — with a reason attached to every line, not just a verdict.
Not: not a diagnosis, and not a judgement on your skin — only on what is in the bottles.
One product, or one list. What the evidence actually supports, how strong it is, and which part of the claim is doing the marketing.
Not: not a safety clearance and not a recommendation to buy.
A conversation. You bring the questions, we work out what matters first and what can wait a year.
Not: not a medical appointment. If something needs examining, you need someone who can examine it.
My testing rule as an accompanied format: one product at a time, forearm patch first, everything written down. Most “this does not work” is really “I did not give it a chance”.
Not: not a promise of a result. It is a method for finding out honestly whether there was one.
Most of a session is spent on two questions: what does this product actually contain, and what does the evidence behind that claim actually say. Those are different questions, and the gap between them is where most skincare money goes.
Nothing is applied to your face and nothing is examined. You get a written record of what stays, what goes, and the reasoning for each line — so you can check it later, or take it to someone else.
The subjects that come up most often. She works on the products and the evidence behind them — the skin itself stays with the people qualified to examine it.
A barrier that stopped coping
Tight, stinging, reactive skin after too many actives at once. Usually a subtraction problem, not an addition one.
Actives and how to combine them
Retinoids, acids, vitamin C, niacinamide — what genuinely conflicts, and which warnings are formulation folklore.
Sun protection that actually protects
Which filter, and far more importantly how much of it, how often, and where everyone misses.
Pigmentation and uneven tone
What topicals can realistically shift, over what timescale, and where the honest ceiling of a cream sits.
Ageing claims, sorted by evidence
Retinoids and sunscreen have the data. Most of the rest is a texture described in scientific language.
Reading a label properly
INCI order, concentration claims, “clinically proven”, and what a percentage on the front does and does not tell you.
Too many products
The most common finding: eleven products, three doing the work, two cancelling each other out.
A study someone quoted at you
What it measured, on whom, for how long, and how much of the claim survives the reading.
None of this is diagnosis or treatment. Where something needs examining, she says so and stops there — that is the actual limit of the work, not a disclaimer bolted on.
It is deliberately boring. That is why it works, and why it is a hard sell.
Everything goes on the same patch of forearm before it goes anywhere near a face. It costs three days and saves the occasional fortnight.
Two new things at once means that when something happens, you have learned nothing. One change, then wait.
Skin turns over on its own schedule and does not care about the launch calendar. Anything faster than four weeks is describing a texture, not an effect.
Date, product, what the skin did. Memory rewrites itself to match what you hoped for. The notebook does not.
Ingredient explainers, routine mistakes, and the occasional myth taken apart. Sources named, no before-and-afters.
Anonymised, and deliberately without results. What is interesting is the reasoning, not a photograph.
Eleven products, three doing the work
Four of them were the same active in different packaging, two were cancelling each other out on the same evenings, and the sunscreen was being used at about a third of the amount it was tested at. We removed six and changed nothing else for eight weeks.
A strong ingredient, quoted from the wrong study
The formula was reasonable. The evidence being quoted for it had been collected on an injected version in a clinical setting — a different product in a different context. Worth buying, on completely different grounds than the ones on the box.
The retinoid that “did not work”
It had been abandoned twice in week three, both times during the phase where it looks like it is going badly. Third attempt, lower frequency, everything else stripped back. The point was not the product. It was finishing the test.
She talked me out of two things I was about to buy and did not replace them with anything. I did not expect that.
The first person who answered “is this worth it” with an actual number instead of an adjective.
I stopped changing things every fortnight. That was the entire advice, and it was the right one.
A sentence or two about what you are using now and what is bothering you is enough to start.
