We Got Fired From Three Labs
in the making of an impossible cream.
I will admit - we often skipped on moisturizer. I thought having oily skin meant we’re more than covered on the moisture front (acne can’t be all bad news). For an already congested skin, a rich moisturizer was counterintuitive. Heavens forbid another clogged pore.
After years of “drying it out”, we now know better. Your skin can be oily and also dehydrated, dry and also acne-prone (the injustice never ceases). And it always, always benefits from the right kind of moisture and a strong skin barrier. So we asked ourselves, what does it take to make a rich moisturizer, reimagined for acne prone adults?
Barriersmith is the answer. Finally, a rich cream for barrier repair and preventing breakouts. Wear it day and night, and help your skin do its thing: heal and protect.
The brief was clear, but getting there turned out to be an impossible mission.
Two months into R&D, our lab partner showed us the door during what I thought was a regular check-in. But this time the (zoom) air felt different - and dread crept in as what was happening dawned on us. A few ‘we love you but…’s later, I realized we were getting fired. We had too many questions, too many specific requests, took too much lab time. In other words, we were high maintenance (with low volume). Not inaccurate.
The second lab breakup was stranger. We asked for a higher dose of ceramides, expecting a 10% cost increase based on direct sourcing data. The lab came back doubling the price instead. The math didn’t add up, and we asked to walk through it - to which they said “we don’t do open-book costing” followed by a hollow wish for success in our endeavors. I wanted to write - while you may not do open book costing, we don’t do sucker. Instead, I replied with an equally hollow best wishes. Onwards.
So the third time things got spicy hurt the most. Among other things, this team generously introduced us to great industry people, helped us make significant progress, and we like working with them. But then came this email and we hit another wall. Highlights include:
“You have requested multiple requirements that defy the laws of business and science.”
(oops)
“There are no formulas in existence with [this active ingredient] over 5%. The fact they don’t have examples over 5% is evidence - and I would say certain evidence - that emulsions with such higher uses are next to impossible.”
(It’s impossible because it doesn’t exist yet? That’s a depressing take. I liked it better when we were defying laws of business and science.)
“Your total “ask” of actives is over 20% of the formula, which is huge. Yet you are requesting a highly viscous pot formula. This is just one reason why it won’t work.”
(I hate this. Immediately I hear Andrea’s voice, a brilliant marketer and boss I worked with at Tiffany & Co. She’d say - don’t tell me why it won’t work, tell me what needs to be true for it to work.)
This project can move very quickly and be highly differentiated, if you collaborate and adapt about the nature of cosmetic formulations.
(And now it goes for the jugular. We are the problem.)
Matt (one of the best people also from my Tiffany days) says to always read this kind of email three times. The first time with the worst possible interpretation, the second with a neutral voice, the third imagining the best intentions behind every word. And he says, reply to the third version. On the first read, I was furious. The second, a burning ambition to prove them wrong. The third, I heard it as tough love from an industry veteran. Once you go through this exercise, it doesn’t matter what the sender truly intended, only how you respond. Wise guy, Matt.
This is the fork in the proverbial road, when either doubt creeps in, or you decide to double down on your gut. How do you know? Call it trust, call it delusion, call it blind ignorance, for some reason Eda and I had no doubt that this cream was possible - based on nothing. So we kept going.
And I replied:
“You might be right. We still want to explore a higher concentration. Maybe it’s misguided, but that’s ok - we’re willing to take the risk. You may not be the right partner on this project, and that’s ok too.”
After all these setbacks and months added to the timeline, we found a lab that got the vision. One conversation, four iterations, and zero drama later, suddenly our "impossible" cream became real. With huge amounts of active ingredients, our other unreasonable requests and all. Doing things differently as outsiders to the industry is scary at times. Doubt never creeps in about the why, but it often does about the how. It’s liberating - we get to think from first principles, decide and move; own the fails and own the wins. At the end of the day, this is personal to us and we don’t know another way to do it.
Hope you enjoy Barriersmith!
Stay cool, stay kind,
Serra
Eda’s contribution: