I bought this because Kim’s team sent it to every influencer with a pulse, and I got curious. Also, I have the skin of a woman who drinks coffee for breakfast and calls it self-care.
The pitch is “root-level repair,” which sounds like a hair commercial, but for your face. I needed to know if $68 of celebrity science beats the $20 retinol I slather on like ketchup.
It’s a watery serum with a hefty price tag. The claim: strengthen the skin barrier so your face stops throwing tantrums (redness, flakiness, the works).
Root Complex
It’s a proprietary blend that supposedly feeds the “root” of your skin. Sounds spiritual. Feels like water.
Peptide Mix
These are the building blocks. They’re here to plump, but they didn’t plump my bank account’s worth of results.
No Scent
Zero fragrance. That’s the one thing I’ll give Kim—it doesn’t smell like a grandma’s attic.
Photo: sarah b / Unsplash
The list is actually decent, which annoyed me. It’s not just crushed-up diamonds and delusion. But it’s also not magic—it’s basic skincare with a splash of celebrity markup.
Photo: Poko Skincare / Unsplash
Texture is a 10/10—it sinks in about 10 seconds flat. No sticky residue, no greasy film. It feels like you put on a fancy toner that costs more than your dinner.
By week two, my skin was… calm? Unbothered? It didn’t fix my dark circles or my cynical attitude, but the redness on my cheeks did take a backseat. That surprised me—I expected to hate it.
Photo: Sonia Roselli / Unsplash
My redness went from a 7 to a 4 on the angry scale. My pores look slightly less like craters. But my fine lines are still there, laughing at me. It’s a maintenance product, not a miracle.
Photo: Alexandru Zdrobău / Unsplash
It’s a good serum, but it’s not a great value. If you’ve got the cash and want a gentle glow, fine. If not, your drugstore shelf already has this beat.