Coming Clean

The term "clean beauty" means different things to different people. Consumers are pressuring brands to set the record straight.

By Kati Chitrakorn

“Clean beauty” has been on the rise, propelled by growing demand from customers for safe, non-toxic, and environmentally-friendly ingredients. The shift marks a rejection of traditional beauty companies whose products have historically contained chemicals like parabens and synthetic fragrances. But are those things really that bad for you?

The cracks in the clean beauty movement have only widened since its inception. In March, for instance, a class action complaint lodged against Sephora was dismissed by a US court. The lawsuit was filed back in November 2022 by customer Lindsey Finster, who claimed that a “significant percentage” of the specialist beauty chain’s products—with its “Clean at Sephora” seal—contains ingredients that are synthetic, rendering them “inconsistent” with how consumers understand the term “clean.”

While the US District Court sided with Sephora—noting in a 14-page response that the store clearly stated the criteria for inclusion in its Clean program, and that the plaintiff’s differing views don’t make its claims misleading—the whole debacle points directly to clean beauty’s misinformation problem, on an industry-wide scale, that independent brands cannot amend.

Much comes down to a lack of clearly-constructed standards and regulations on a government level, particularly in the US. While the general consensus is that “bad” ingredients must be eliminated, there is still no universal definition of “good,” comparatively aligning the term “clean” to other vague labels like “sustainable” or “eco-friendly,” which create confusion among consumers hoping to pursue natural forms of consumption.

Gabriella Baki, Director of Cosmetic Science and Formulation at the University of Toledo College, sees clean beauty as an evolution of the “natural” craze, where shoppers sought products that derived from nature, believing that the lack of synthetic chemicals meant a safer product. That isn’t necessarily true, she explains. “Something may come from nature but then goes through a chemical modification so that it foams better, or it causes the product to be more stable.”

Similarly, the term “clean beauty” suggests that anything that doesn’t fit into its category is “dirty” and therefore harmful—which isn’t the case and causes unnecessary fear-mongering, says Baki.

“Unfortunately, clean still implies ‘safety,’ which is so far from the truth.”

Several retailers have launched initiatives intending to give customers the know-how to identify items that meet clean standards. For example, Sephora launched its Clean program in 2018, featuring products that are “free from” a selection of ingredients, while its closest rival Ulta has maintained an ongoing partnership with clean beauty retailer Credo Beauty since 2020. There’s also Goop, the wellness and lifestyle empire founded in 2008 by Gwyneth Paltrow, one of the biggest advocates for clean living in the realm of retail.

Their intention is understandable. While a decade ago, consumers— and brands—would focus on the efficacy of certain ingredients, such as vitamin C for brightening or retinol to reduce fine lines, there has been a pivot towards “free-from” products that boast what they don’t have, rather than what they do. Ilia Beauty, for example, advertises that its formulas are made without parabens and phthalates, among other substances. The problem is that the tactic is adopted by brands whose products “don’t really have any outstanding performance results [otherwise],” says Baki.

In other cases, potentially hazardous chemicals are replaced by ingredients that are less researched, warns Dr. Michelle Wong, founder of beauty science platform Lab Muffin. Some brands have begun to replace parabens—a chemical that is well-researched but has a bad reputation because of its synthetic nature—with MI and MCI preservatives; but scientists haven’t studied them long enough to determine their health benefits or potential side effects, she explains.

Jen Novakovich, founder of the Eco Well, a beauty science communication platform and consultancy, also shares frustrations with the assumptions brands make about materials’ origins. “Some of these substitutions do not make sense. When brands ban parabens, for example, they use sodium benzoate [another kind of preservative] instead. There’s the assumption that if it’s ‘natural,’ it must be better. But it’s actually more allergenic, and research shows that more consumers have challenges with it.”

Setting an example for better commercial practices is Emma Lewisham, the New Zealand-based founder of her namesake beauty brand, which boasts a circular product range and carbon-positive status. By working with B Corp certified environmental agency Toitu¯ Envirocare, Lewisham—whose £85 serums and £78 face oils are sold at major high-end retailers—is able to positively measure and offset emissions at every step of the supply chain. That’s significant because, too often, brands point to one small thing they’re doing while avoiding transparency around the rest of the business.

Lewisham believes that her products’ formulations are also a point of difference. “We take a skin physiology-first, rather than ingredient-led, approach,” she explains, noting that her brand’s Physiology Synchrony Unlock Method mimics how the skin works, combining up to 25 active ingredients that mirror cellular processes. “Our products not only repair, but prevent damage by extending the optimal function of skin.”

Other beauty executives eager to do better have shifted their focus toward more meaningful, sustainability-led strategies. Some brands have prioritized biodiversity projects (YSL Beauty), regenerative agriculture (Tata Harper), and bio-based materials (Chanel Beauty) as they seek to pivot from net-zero strategies to positive impact.

While carbon offsetting was one of the ways brands once indicated they were “going green,” experts have since questioned whether a net-zero strategy does more harm than good. That’s because some companies exaggerate their progress. (A majority of carbon credits approved by Verra, the largest global certifier of voluntary offsets, were found to be “worthless” because they lacked evidence, according to a report by The Guardian last January.) The reality is that it’s very difficult, if not impossible, to offset past and current emissions; active reduction is what needs to take place.

Brands should do more to communicate clearly with their audiences, given that customers feeling uniformed is one of the reasons for the rise of “clean” and “natural” movements. Science-led skincare company Deciem, for example, has a typical press relations team as well as a dedicated scientific communications team, whose responsibility is to ensure that it isn’t misleading consumers on product and ingredient benefits. The two work hand-in-hand, confirming that all educational content and marketing claims are true, and where possible, supported by clinical data.

Beauty companies that don’t have an in-house team of scientific communicators could greatly benefit from partnering with content creators who are experts in the field. Among those who work with brands are Lab Muffin’s Wong, Esther Olu of the Melanin Chemist, Alex Padgett of Educated Mess, and Jane Tsui, who goes by Jane the Chemist. “These are educators who have scientific backgrounds and really understand the chemistry behind products, the testing, and the microbiology,” says Baki.

This would mark a departure from the influencers brands have typically used; the kind that have an engaged audience—many for their entertaining tutorials—but may not have the knowledge or ability to explain complex subjects, leading to miscommunication. At best, misleading claims pose a risk to customers. At worst, they cause legal issues for companies.

Beyond striving to operate a responsible business, there’s also a financial incentive for brands to do good. Growing awareness of misinformation and so-called “sponcon” means that savvy consumers are asking more questions before they buy; it’s what prompted trend forecasting and strategy firm the Future Laboratory to identify accreditation as a defining beauty, health, and wellness trend in 2022. Amid growing inflation and price increases, proof points and facts can help brands convince customers to buy their products, all while fostering trust and positive sentiment.

“Clean beauty is confusing because it means many different things, but ultimately it comes from consumers’ desire for more sustainable products,” Baki believes. Instead of villainizing specific ingredients, brands should give precedence to those derived from renewable sources. They can also find alternative manufacturing with renewable energy, or create packaging that has a more circular life, she suggests. “It’s about how you are trying to reduce your carbon footprint, rather than creating overarching definitions around a specific product.”

If the controversy around “clean beauty” has taught us anything, it’s that consumers are increasingly seeking to hold companies accountable. Not only do modern shoppers vote with their wallets, they’re able to publicly voice their opinions in many ways—including on social media. So as a brand, why wouldn’t you strive to do better?