Every ad promised me a miracle. I bought them — the "needle-free Botox" serums, the miracle creams, the nonsense my kids got shown on TikTok. Most did precisely nothing. So now I read the actual research first, largely out of spite, and publish what I find.
Almost nobody sorts skincare by age. Everybody should. Start where you actually are.
Every hyped product gets one of four answers. No hedging, no "it depends on your skin journey".
Every single one of these promised me something. I kept them all, partly as evidence and partly as penance. This is the drawer this whole website came out of.
Korea leads on formulas, Japan on gentleness, France on pharmacy science. I follow what works, wherever it's from — and there's hype in every language.
Three questions. I'll send back a routine for your age and skin — what to get, what to ignore, and the cheap version that does the same job.
Free. No spam. Leave whenever you like.
The ads that found me this week, read line by line — plus the fakes doing the rounds in Australia and New Zealand right now.
What that phrase legally means, which is nowhere near what you think it means.
Millions of counterfeit listings are floating about. Five things to check before you hit buy.
Different lighting, different angle, wet face. How to spot a staged result in three seconds flat.
I'm not a doctor, a dermatologist, or a scientist. I'm a 46-year-old mum in Melbourne with an alarming credit card history and a new habit of reading the actual studies.
I've never had Botox or fillers. Not because I'm against them, but because I kept believing the ads that swore I'd never need them. I've lost count of the miracle products. Almost none of them did a thing.
Then my daughter and son hit the age where breakouts start, and the internet immediately began selling them the same rubbish in prettier packaging. Retinol for twelve-year-olds. Ten-step routines for skin that needs three. That's when I got properly annoyed.
So I started checking things. What the research actually says. Who a product is genuinely for. What the same formula costs somewhere less glamorous. No face on camera, no free products, no sponsorship deals — which means no reason to tell you anything but the truth.
— Janelle
One verdict, one thing worth buying, one thing to run from. Sundays, in plain English.
Read by sceptical grown-ups and worried parents across Australia and New Zealand.