Week two my chin looked like a pizza. Not the cute artisanal kind—the greasy gas station slice.
I almost quit. But by day 28, my fiancé asked if I was wearing foundation. I wasn’t. That’s the whole story.
$28 for 50ml. The claim: “gentle enough for sensitive skin, strong enough to see changes in 4 weeks.” I called bullshit. Then I bought it.
Time-release capsules
Retinol is wrapped in lipid spheres so it doesn’t hit your face like a wrecking ball.
Centella Asiatica base
Not just a buzzword—it’s the first ingredient, which explains why my moisture barrier didn’t collapse.
No fragrance
Actually zero. Smells like nothing. Weirdly refreshing after years of rose-scented disappointments.
Photo: Angelina / Unsplash
0.3% pure retinol—middle ground, not beginner, not expert. But the delivery system makes it feel more like a 0.1%. That’s the trick.
They also threw in niacinamide and adenosine, which sounds like a vitamin from the future but is just a solid anti-aging peptide.
- Retinol 0.3%: Smooths texture, speeds cell turnover — expect flakes first
- Centella Asiatica: Calms the redness retinol causes
- Niacinamide 2%: Fades the dark spots retinol leaves behind
- Adenosine: Plumps fine lines without irritation
Photo: kevin laminto / Unsplash
Thick. Like a cold Greek yogurt. I was sure this would clog everything. But it melts in 10 seconds flat—leaves a dewy finish, not a grease slick.
Week three I woke up with a flake on my nose the size of a pencil eraser. Sandwiched it between moisturizer and it stopped. Weirdly satisfying.
Photo: Element5 Digital / Unsplash
Pores around my nose? Smaller. The eleven lines between my brows? Still there but softer. My chin acne? Gone by week 4—but week 2 was a nightmare.
The texture on my cheeks changed from “orange peel” to “slightly blurry.” Not glass skin. Honest skin.
Photo: Egor Komarov / Unsplash
Already ordered the refill. It’s not magic—it’s just a really well-formulated retinol that doesn’t punish you for having normal, reactive skin.