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  • Kopari Coconut Deodorant: Coconut Oil Is the 20th Ingredient

    On the label sold at Ulta.com (September 2026), Kopari’s Aluminum-Free Coconut Deodorant lists coconut oil (Cocos Nucifera Oil) at position 20 of 26 — below fragrance, below sage oil, and below fourteen structural and functional ingredients. The base of the product is propylene glycol, the first thing on the list. So the ingredient the whole product is named after sits near the bottom.

    A deodorant called “Coconut Deodorant,” from a brand named after the tropics, invites one obvious question: how much of it is coconut? The label is public, ingredient lists are ordered by law, and the answer is sitting right there for anyone who reads to the end of it. So I read to the end of it.

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass up to a tall deodorant stick labelled Coconut, squinting at the tiny print.
    Nib meets the coconut deodorant — and reaches for the magnifying glass rather than the marketing.

    Where does coconut oil actually sit on the label?

    Here is the full ingredient list, copied verbatim from the Kopari Aluminum-Free Coconut Deodorant page on Ulta.com (SKU 2554000), fetched 23 September 2026:

    Propylene Glycol, Aqua, Sodium Stearate, Propanediol, Saccharomyces Ferment Filtrate, Parfum, Caprylyl/Capryl Glucoside, Silica, Sodium Caproyl/Lauroyl Lactylate, Ethylhexylglycerin, Triethyl Citrate, Sodium Cocoyl Glutamate, Glyceryl Caprylate, Citric Acid, Polyglyceryl-6 Oleate, Cocos Nucifera (Coconut) Liquid Endosperm, Glycerin, Sodium Surfactin, Salvia Officinalis Oil, Cocos Nucifera Oil, Glyceryl Laurate, Sodium Anisate, Cocos Nucifera Fruit Juice, Benzyl Salicylate, Hexyl Cinnamal, Linalool.

    Numbered, so the position of each thing is unmissable:

    # Ingredient What it is
    1 Propylene Glycol Solvent / humectant — the base
    2 Aqua Water
    3 Sodium Stearate Soap-derived wax that sets the stick
    4 Propanediol Solvent / humectant
    5 Saccharomyces Ferment Filtrate Yeast ferment — Kopari’s claimed odor active
    6 Parfum Fragrance
    7 Caprylyl/Capryl Glucoside Surfactant
    8 Silica Viscosity agent
    9 Sodium Caproyl/Lauroyl Lactylate Emulsifier
    10 Ethylhexylglycerin Preservative
    11 Triethyl Citrate Odor-masking agent
    12 Sodium Cocoyl Glutamate Coconut-derived surfactant (not coconut oil)
    13 Glyceryl Caprylate Preservative / emulsifier
    14 Citric Acid pH buffer
    15 Polyglyceryl-6 Oleate Emulsifier
    16 Cocos Nucifera (Coconut) Liquid Endosperm Coconut water — first coconut ingredient
    17 Glycerin Humectant
    18 Sodium Surfactin Mild surfactant
    19 Salvia Officinalis Oil Sage oil — Kopari’s second “Key Ingredient”
    20 Cocos Nucifera Oil Coconut oil — position 20 of 26
    21 Glyceryl Laurate Emollient / emulsifier
    22 Sodium Anisate Mild antimicrobial
    23 Cocos Nucifera Fruit Juice Third coconut ingredient
    24 Benzyl Salicylate Fragrance component (EU-declared allergen)
    25 Hexyl Cinnamal Fragrance component (EU-declared allergen)
    26 Linalool Fragrance component (EU-declared allergen)

    The coconut-derived entries — coconut water at 16, coconut oil at 20, coconut fruit juice at 23 — all land in the bottom half of the list. The first fourteen slots contain no coconut at all.

    Nib stands at a numbered chalkboard listing ingredients one to twenty-six, tapping a pencil on line twenty where the word coconut is circled.
    Coconut oil is line 20 of 26. Fragrance is line 6. Nib does the counting so you don’t have to.

    What does an ingredient’s position actually tell you?

    US cosmetic labels are not arranged for the marketing team’s convenience. Under 21 CFR 701.3, ingredients must be listed in descending order of predominance — most first, least last. The FDA’s own labeling guide spells out the same rule. So a thing sitting at position 20 is, by definition, present in a smaller quantity than the nineteen things above it.

    There is one honest caveat, and it matters. The same regulation, at 701.3(f)(2), lets any ingredient present at one percent or less be listed in any order after the ingredients above one percent. That means positions 16 through 26 could all be at or below one percent, shuffled in an order the manufacturer chose. The label cannot tell you the exact concentration of coconut oil, and this piece will not pretend to. What it can tell you — unambiguously — is that coconut oil is not a leading ingredient. It is in the tail, with everything else that is present at a low level.

    How does that square with what Kopari says about it?

    Nib holds a glossy advert reading Coconut Oil in one hand and the long ingredient list in the other, glancing between the two with a raised eyebrow.
    The front of the pack and the back of the pack, held up side by side.

    The Ulta listing reproduces Kopari’s marketing copy, and under “Key Ingredients” it describes coconut oil as “naturally antimicrobial and anti-bacterial while it hydrates and soothes sensitive underarms.” Whether coconut oil does any of that in an underarm stick is a separate argument, and not one I’m making here. My only point is the arithmetic: the ingredient given top billing on the front of the pack is the 20th thing on the back of it.

    Read the marketing alongside the formula and a different story emerges. The item Kopari’s newer materials describe as the actual deodorizing active is Saccharomyces Ferment Filtrate, a yeast ferment — and that sits high, at position 5. The odor work, per the brand’s own account, is being done near the top of the list. The coconut is doing its work on the label, near the top of the imagination.

    Worth a quick word on a near-miss, too. Sodium Cocoyl Glutamate at position 12 is coconut-derived — it’s a surfactant built from coconut fatty acid and an amino acid — and it’s easy to read as “more coconut.” It is not coconut oil, and it doesn’t behave like it. It cleanses; it does not deliver the emollient coconut people picture when they buy a coconut product.

    What are those named entries at the very bottom?

    Positions 24, 25 and 26 — Benzyl Salicylate, Hexyl Cinnamal and Linalool — are components of the fragrance at position 6, broken out and named individually. They’re on the list because EU Regulation (EC) No 1223/2009 requires 26 specific fragrance allergens to be disclosed by name when they exceed 10 ppm in a leave-on product. US rules let a brand write “Fragrance” and stop there, so their appearance here is either EU-format labeling carried onto a US listing or a voluntary disclosure. Either way, it’s the more informative choice.

    All three are well-established fragrance contact allergens. A 2024 review of fragrance patch testing in PMC places linalool and its oxidized forms among the most common fragrance allergens seen in patch-test clinics, and reports hexyl cinnamal sensitization at roughly 0.45% of consecutive dermatitis patients. That is contact-allergy data, not a scare: most people are not allergic, and a stated percentage is not a prediction about you. But if you patch-test poorly against fragrance, a coconut deodorant with three named allergens at the bottom of the list is a thing worth knowing before it’s on your skin twice a day.

    Nib peers closely at the final three lines of the list through the magnifying glass, each allergen name lit up under the lens.
    The last three lines are the fragrance, named. Small print, disclosed — which is the good kind of small print.

    So where does that leave a coconut-deodorant shopper?

    With a clearer label than most, honestly. Kopari lists coconut oil where the regulation says it belongs, breaks out its fragrance allergens rather than hiding them behind one word, and names a plausible active up top. The gap here isn’t between the brand and the law — it’s between the name on the front and the position on the back. If you were buying it for the coconut oil, the coconut oil is the 20th thing in the tube, and propylene glycol is the first.

    If what you actually want is a coconut-forward underarm product, the label is the only place to confirm it, and this one tells you coconut is a finishing touch rather than the base. For contrast, it’s worth reading a formula built the other way round: our own Evil Goods tallow deodorant — and yes, this site is published by the Evil Goods team, so treat that as the interested party it is — leads on tallow and beeswax rather than a glycol base, which is a different design decision you can check against its own INCI in exactly the way we just checked this one. We also read the label on another coconut-branded stick earlier this month, if you want the pattern: the Native deodorant coconut-oil analysis covers the same trick on a mass-market shelf.

    The rule that makes all of this checkable is simple, and it’s yours: the front of the pack is an argument, the back of the pack is the evidence, and the law puts the evidence in order for you. Read to the bottom of the list.

    Quick questions

    Where is coconut oil on the Kopari Coconut Deodorant label?
    Position 20 of 26 on the Ulta.com listing (September 2026), below fragrance (6) and sage oil (19).
    What is the first ingredient?
    Propylene Glycol, a solvent/humectant that forms the base of the stick.
    Does the position prove the exact percentage?
    No. Ingredients at or below 1% can be listed in any order (21 CFR 701.3(f)(2)), so positions 16–26 could all be low-percentage. The label proves coconut oil is not a leading ingredient; it can’t prove a specific number.
    What are the entries at the bottom of the list?
    Benzyl Salicylate, Hexyl Cinnamal and Linalool — named fragrance allergens broken out of the “Parfum” entry, disclosed under EU fragrance-allergen rules.
    Nib sits contentedly on top of the closed deodorant stick, pencil tucked behind the ear, the numbered list rolled up like a completed scroll.
    List read, top to bottom. Nib’s only rule: the front of the pack is the pitch, the back of the pack is the proof.

  • Hempz “Calming Magnesium” Lotion: Magnesium Is the 16th Ingredient

    Hempz Beauty Actives Serene Waters is sold as a “Soothing & Relaxing Magnesium Body Lotion,” but on its own INCI list the magnesium — listed as Magnesium Sulfate, which is Epsom salt — appears at position 16, below water, two silicone-and-emollient skin-feel agents, fragrance and eleven others. The name is on the front; the mineral is well down the back.

    Walk any drugstore body-lotion aisle and one bottle keeps its promise right in the product name: Hempz Beauty Actives Serene Waters Body Moisturizer with Magnesium, 17 fl oz for around $19.99. The brand subtitles it “Soothing & Relaxing Magnesium Body Lotion” and calls out “Magnesium & Arnica” as the key ingredients that “help replenish moisture and soothe.” Magnesium lotion for calm is having a moment — NPR covered the trend in September 2025 and cited one estimate putting the 2024 topical-magnesium market north of $400 million. So it is a fair question to ask the label: where is the magnesium, actually?

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketched creature with a magnifier loupe pushed up on his head, holds an unlabeled tub in both hands, looking bright and eager to read it.
    Nib picks up another bottle promising something on the front. Time to turn it around.

    What does the Serene Waters ingredient list actually say?

    Here is the full INCI list, quoted verbatim. Source: the Ulta product listing for Serene Waters Body Moisturizer with Magnesium (ulta.com), page fetched 2026-09-22. The same list appears on the brand’s own hempz.com page and the major-retailer listing — three sources in agreement.

    Water/Aqua/Eau, Isopropyl Palmitate, Butylene Glycol, Propanediol, Fragrance (Parfum), Cetyl Alcohol, Glycerin, Dimethicone, Sorbitan Stearate, Butyrospermum Parkii (Shea) Butter, Stearic Acid, Glyceryl Stearate, PEG-100 Stearate, Cetearyl Alcohol, Cannabis Sativa Seed Oil, Magnesium Sulfate, Lavandula Angustifolia (Lavender) Oil, Aloe Barbadensis Leaf Juice, Panthenol, Arnica Montana Flower Extract, Phenoxyethanol, Polysorbate 40, Aminomethyl Propanol, Acrylates/C10-30 Alkyl Acrylate Crosspolymer, Nylon-12, Xanthan Gum, Ethylhexylglycerin, Chlorphenesin, Hexamethylindanopyran, Trisodium Ethylenediamine Disuccinate, Tetramethyl Acetyloctahydronaphthalenes, Linalyl Acetate, Hydroxycitronellal, Geranyl Acetate, Pinene, Alpha-Isomethyl Ionone, Terpineol, Citral, Isoeugenyl Acetate, Ascorbic Acid, Calcium Pantothenate, Potassium Chloride, Tocopheryl Acetate, Citric Acid, Potassium Sorbate, Benzoic Acid, Sodium Benzoate, Sorbic Acid, Rose Ketones, Linalool, Limonene.

    INCI lists are ordered by concentration down to 1%, so position is a rough proxy for how much of something is in the pot. Count from the top and the marketed hero, Magnesium Sulfate, lands at position 16. Everything above it — the water base, isopropyl palmitate and the glycols, the fragrance, cetyl alcohol, glycerin, dimethicone, the shea and the emulsifier stack — is present in greater quantity than the magnesium the bottle is named after.

    Nib holds a glass jar with a small handwritten label of squiggly text, his eyes half-lidded and mouth flat with skeptical, unimpressed suspicion.
    “Calming magnesium,” says the front. Nib has learned to be suspicious of a front.

    Where does the magnesium actually sit — and what is it?

    Two details are worth saying plainly. First, the magnesium here is Magnesium Sulfate, which is the chemical name for Epsom salt — the same compound sold as a bath soak for a few dollars a bag. It is not a novel, patented, better-absorbed form of magnesium. Second, it is listed at position 16, one slot below Cannabis Sativa Seed Oil (the hemp-seed oil the brand is known for) and above Lavender Oil and the preservatives.

    The other headlined active, Arnica Montana Flower Extract, is called out on the product page as a key ingredient too. It appears at position 20 — four spots behind the magnesium, and behind the preservative-and-thickener machinery that makes a lotion a lotion. Both of the actives on the front of the bottle are deep in the second half of the list.

    This is the whole trick of reading an INCI list: the front of the bottle chooses the story, and the back of the bottle tells you the order. When the two disagree, the order is the one with the receipts.

    Nib peers through a round magnifying loupe flipped down over one eye, which looms hugely through the lens, scrutinizing a tall glass jar covered in tiny handwritten label text.
    The magnifying glass comes out. On an INCI list, order is everything, and the small print is the whole story.

    Does magnesium at position 16 even matter for absorption?

    Here is where the label question meets the evidence question, and honestly the evidence is thin either way. The idea behind “calming” magnesium lotion is that magnesium crosses the skin and does something systemic — relaxation, sleep, sore muscles. The published record does not really support that.

    The outermost skin layer, the stratum corneum, is oily and repels water-loving, charged molecules. Magnesium in solution is an ion (Mg²⁺), and in its hydrated form it is bulky and struggles to passively diffuse through intact skin. A 2017 review in Nutrients (Gröber et al., “Myth or Reality—Transdermal Magnesium?”, DOI: 10.3390/nu9080813, PMC5579607) concluded that the case for transdermal magnesium is, in their words, scientifically unsupported, with hair follicles and sweat glands — roughly 0.1–1% of the skin’s surface — as the only real route in.

    Even the most favorable human trial is small. A 2017 pilot RCT in PLoS ONE (Kass et al., DOI: 10.1371/journal.pone.0174817) tested a 56 mg/day magnesium cream in 25 people over two weeks and found no statistically significant change in serum or urinary magnesium for the group as a whole (p = 0.29 for serum). Only a subgroup reached significance, and the authors themselves called it a pilot that needs replication at higher doses. When NPR covered the trend, dermatologist Nicholas Theodosakis put the main risk succinctly: except in the pocketbook.

    None of that means the lotion is bad at being a lotion — there is glycerin, shea butter and dimethicone up top, and those genuinely moisturize. It means the specific promise the name leans on, magnesium doing something calming through your skin, rests on small and mostly non-significant studies. If you want a fuller walk-through of that literature, Evil Goods (the team behind this site — we say so openly) collected it here: Does Magnesium Lotion Work?, on the Evil Goods blog.

    Nib sits at a small wooden desk with a pencil, mouth open in an 'o' of dismay as an enormous paper ingredient list unspools off the desk and coils into a spiral on the floor.
    The list runs on and on. The hero of the label finally turns up at position number sixteen.

    How should you read a “magnesium” lotion label?

    You do not need a chemistry degree, just a rule: find the hero ingredient from the front of the bottle in the list on the back, and see how far down it is. Anything named a “magnesium lotion,” “vitamin C serum” or “retinol cream” is making a claim you can check against its own INCI in ten seconds.

    The name on the front
    Serene Waters “Soothing & Relaxing Magnesium Body Lotion” — magnesium and arnica marketed as the key ingredients.
    The magnesium on the back
    Magnesium Sulfate (Epsom salt), position 16 of ~49, below fragrance, dimethicone and the emollient stack.
    The second active on the back
    Arnica Montana Flower Extract, position 20, behind the preservatives.
    The evidence
    Transdermal magnesium absorption is supported mainly by small, mostly non-significant pilot studies; a 2017 review called it scientifically unsupported.
    Marketed hero INCI name List position What that suggests
    Magnesium Magnesium Sulfate 16 of ~49 Present, but below the base, fragrance, silicone and shea
    Arnica Arnica Montana Flower Extract 20 of ~49 Below magnesium and the preservative system
    Hemp seed oil Cannabis Sativa Seed Oil 15 of ~49 Just ahead of the magnesium it shares the label with

    For reference, if you want the mineral itself and nothing else, a bag of Epsom salt in a warm bath is the same compound as the “magnesium” in this lotion, for a fraction of the price — and it makes no claim about crossing your skin. If you specifically want a tallow-based balm that names magnesium sulfate on its own label, Evil Goods makes one: the Grass-Fed Tallow Magnesium Balm (that is ours). We would rather you know what any of them can and can’t do than pick by the front of the jar.

    Nib tips a small glass jar upside down over a spoon, deadpan and half-lidded, as a single drop drips out — a dry visual joke about how little of the promised ingredient is really there.
    How much magnesium actually made it into the pot? The list puts it below fragrance, silicone and thirteen other things.

  • Tree Hut Shea Sugar Scrub: Where the Shea Actually Sits on the Label

    In Tree Hut’s Shea Sugar Scrub, shea butter is never the main event. It sits at position 7 of 22 in Moroccan Rose, position 5 of 30 in the best-selling Vanilla, position 10 of 28 in Strawberry, and — if a 2021-indexed listing is current — as far down as position 20 in Palm Grove. In every version the list opens with sucrose, then glycerin, then polysorbate 20 — all ahead of the shea. It is a sugar scrub with shea as a supporting fat, not a shea product with sugar added.

    Tree Hut’s Shea Sugar Scrub is, by review count, one of the most-bought body scrubs in America — the Vanilla 18oz jar alone carries 172,825 reviews at 4.8 stars (Amazon, data through June 2026 via asinsight.com). The word “Shea” is on the front of every jar. So it is worth doing the one thing the packaging quietly discourages: reading the ingredient list on the back, in order, and finding where the shea actually is.

    INCI lists are ordered by descending concentration down to 1%; below that, order is unregulated. So a high position means “more of this than the things below it,” and a low one means “less.” That is all we can read off the label — never an exact percentage — but it is enough to see whether a hero ingredient is really the hero.

    Where does the shea sit in Moroccan Rose?

    The cleanest example to start with is Moroccan Rose, because two independent sources reproduce its list identically. Here it is verbatim, from the brand’s own product page (treehutshea.com/products/moroccan-rose-shea-sugar-scrub, fetched 2026-09-21, HTTP 200), corroborated exactly by an independent review site (dermapproved.com, published 2026-04-13):

    Sucrose, Glycerin, Polysorbate 20, Silica, Rosa Canina Fruit Oil, Argania Spinosa Kernel Oil, Butyrospermum Parkii (Shea) Butter, Persea Gratissima (Avocado) Oil, Carthamus Tinctorius (Safflower) Seed Oil, Citrus Aurantium Dulcis (Orange) Oil, Macadamia Ternifolia Seed Oil, Oenothera Biennis (Evening Primrose) Oil, Prunus Amygdalus Dulcis (Sweet Almond) Oil, Aqua (Water/Eau), Caprylyl Glycol, Ascorbic Acid, Retinyl Palmitate, Phenoxyethanol, Sorbic Acid, Red 4 (CI 14700), Blue 1 (CI 42090), Parfum (Fragrance)

    Shea is ingredient number seven of twenty-two. Above it, in order: sugar, glycerin, a synthetic emulsifier, silica, and then two “premium” specialty oils — rosehip (Rosa Canina) and argan (Argania Spinosa) — that this scent leans on in its marketing. Those two oils are exactly what pushes the shea from the fifth slot it holds in plainer scents down to seventh here. The scent’s selling points sit in front of the ingredient the whole line is named after.

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, peers through a magnifying glass at a tall jar of Shea Sugar Scrub, tracing a finger down the ingredient list on the back.
    Nib does the thing the front of the jar hopes you won’t: reads the back, in order.

    Does shea’s position change by scent?

    Yes — and that is the interesting part. The shea itself is presumably dosed the same; what changes is the oil blend that gets slotted in ahead of it. Here is where verified shea lands across four variants, with sources dated in the notes below the table.

    Variant Shea position Total INCI count Fragrance position
    Vanilla (best-seller) 5 30 21
    Moroccan Rose 7 22 22 (last)
    Strawberry 10 28 18
    Palm Grove (see caveat) 20 ~37 5

    Sources: Vanilla — incidecoder.com/products/tree-hut-vanilla-shea-sugar-scrub, corroborated by a major retailer’s product listing (read 2026-09-21). Moroccan Rose — brand page + dermapproved.com, as above. Strawberry — treehutshea.com/products/strawberry-shea-sugar-scrub, via search result 2026-09-21. Palm Grove — a brand-site listing indexed as far back as 2021 and retrieved only via a search snippet, so I treat it as unconfirmed; the brand’s own disclaimer says its “ingredient lists are updated regularly,” which is a fair warning to take literally.

    Read the best-seller charitably and the story softens: in Vanilla, shea is fifth, which is genuinely fairly early. But sugar, glycerin, polysorbate 20 and silica still all outrank it. Even in the most shea-forward scent Tree Hut sells, sugar, glycerin, an emulsifier and silica all come first, and shea is the only conditioning fat among that leading group.

    Nib holds up two labelled ingredient cards, a big one reading Sugar towering over a much smaller one reading Shea, weighing them on a set of pencil-drawn scales.
    By mass, the sugar wins in every scent. Shea’s exact rank is a scent decision.

    What is polysorbate 20 doing at number three?

    Setting aside the sugar and glycerin, the ingredient that outranks shea in every single scent is polysorbate 20. It is a synthetic emulsifier: its job is to keep the oil blend dispersed through the wet sugar so the jar does not separate into a slick and a sludge. It is not there to condition your skin.

    That is not the same as calling it a problem. The Cosmetic Ingredient Review panel — an industry-funded body, worth naming as such — concluded polysorbates are “safe as used” across rinse-off formulations, assessed to concentrations as high as 19.6% (CIR Safety Assessment of Polysorbates, 2015). The honest read is narrow and specific: polysorbate 20 is a functional, well-tolerated emulsifier that happens to be present in higher concentration than the shea butter in every variant we checked. Not a villain. Just not the thing on the label either.

    Nib inspects a bottle labelled Parfum that has quietly cut ahead of a queue of oil bottles waiting in line, looking mildly surprised at the queue-jumper.
    In the Palm Grove listing, Fragrance appears to queue-jump ahead of every oil — if that list is current.

    Should the named fragrance allergens worry you?

    Two of the scents spell out individual fragrance allergens as separate INCI entries — an EU labelling practice that kicks in above 0.01% in rinse-off products. Strawberry names Linalool, Geraniol, Benzyl Alcohol and Limonene; the Palm Grove listing names Linalool, Limonene, Hydroxycitronellal and Hexyl Cinnamal. Phenoxyethanol, a preservative, appears in all of them.

    Here the site’s usual honesty applies: this is a real but modest signal, not a scare. The American Contact Dermatitis Society added linalool and limonene to its 2020 Core Allergen Series, and estimates that “3.5% to 4.5% of the adult population and 20% of the patch-tested population may be allergic to one or more fragrances” (ACDS Core Allergen Series, 2020). A 2024 review in PMC adds the mechanism that matters: sensitisation is not instant — it “requires sufficient repeated exposure,” and it is the oxidised hydroperoxides of linalool and limonene, not the fresh molecules, that most often provoke a reaction (Fragrance Contact Allergy: A Review Focusing on Patch Testing, 2024). The most current dermatology literature keeps fragrances, preservatives and surfactants at the top of the personal-care-allergen list (JAAD, 2026, PubMed abstract). So: if you patch-test positive to fragrance, a scented sugar scrub is a reasonable thing to skip. If you don’t, the presence of a named allergen on the label is information, not a verdict.

    Nib sets down the magnifying glass and jots a short honest note on a pad that reads sugar first, shea seventh, looking pleased rather than outraged.
    The finding is small and checkable: sugar first, shea somewhere in the middle.

    What if you want a fat that isn’t buried in an oil blend?

    The whole reason “Shea Sugar Scrub” sells is the promise of a rich conditioning fat. If that is what you are actually after, the label is telling you something useful: in this product the fat is one line item among a dozen oils, emulsified into a sugar base, and it is out-ranked by the emulsifier that holds it there. That is a fine thing for a rinse-off exfoliant to be. It is a poor thing to buy as a moisturiser.

    A different design choice is to start from the fat and stop. Our own team at Evil Goods makes a beef tallow moisturizer (this site is published by the Evil Goods team, so treat that as ours, not a neutral recommendation) built around a conditioning fat on its own rather than an isolated oil suspended in polysorbate. We mention it because it is the honest opposite of the structure on this label — not because a body scrub and a leave-on moisturiser do the same job. A sugar scrub is for scrubbing; a fat is for staying on the skin. Pick the one that matches what you came for.

    The short version

    Sucrose (sugar)
    Ingredient #1 in every scent. This is what does the exfoliating. It is a sugar scrub first.
    Glycerin
    Always #2. A cheap, effective humectant, more concentrated than shea everywhere.
    Polysorbate 20
    Always #3. A synthetic emulsifier holding the oils in place; “safe as used” per CIR, but out-ranks the shea.
    Shea (Butyrospermum Parkii) Butter
    Ranges from #5 (Vanilla) to a possible #20 (Palm Grove). Its exact rank is a scent decision, driven by which oils go in ahead of it.

    None of this makes Tree Hut’s scrub a bad product. It makes it a well-selling sugar scrub with a conditioning fat in a supporting role — which is a perfectly reasonable thing to be, and not quite what the name on the jar implies.

    Nib closes the jar, tucks the pencil behind an ear and gives a small satisfied wave, the finished note pinned up behind reading read the label, in order.
    Nib’s whole method, in four words: read the label, in order.

  • Schmidt’s Deodorant: Baking Soda Is the 6th Ingredient

    Schmidt’s markets its Natural Deodorant Stick
    as “naturally enriched with magnesium” and “gentle on skin,”
    and magnesium hydroxide is indeed the first ingredient on the label. But six lines
    down, at position #6, sits sodium bicarbonate —
    baking soda. Both are alkaline odor neutralizers working well above skin’s
    natural pH, and baking soda in daily leave-on underarm use is the one dermatology
    literature flags most often for irritation. The clearest tell that this matters:
    Schmidt’s sells a separate “Sensitive” line that takes the baking
    soda out.

    This is a deodorant a lot of people reach for specifically because it is not
    an antiperspirant — no aluminum, magnesium on the front, the whole
    “gentle natural” positioning. So it is worth doing the one thing the
    front of a stick never invites you to do, which is turn it around and read all the
    way down. When you do, the magnesium the marketing leads with is real and it is at
    the top. The thing worth knowing is what shows up at #6, and why an entire second
    product line exists to remove it.

    Where does the baking soda actually sit on the label?

    Here is the full ingredient list, quoted verbatim from the Cactus Flower &
    Pear stick (2.65 oz) as it appears on
    the product page at a major US retailer (TCIN 1005445547),
    read 20 September 2026. The same order appears on the
    brand’s own product page and on the
    Whole Foods Market listing for the same stick, which is
    how we can say the list below is complete rather than truncated.

    magnesium hydroxide, cocos nucifera (coconut) oil, maranta arundinacea root powder (arrowroot), caprylic/capric triglyceride (fractionated coconut oil), butyrospermum parkii (shea) butter, sodium bicarbonate (baking soda), euphorbia cerifera (candelilla) wax, simmondsia chinensis (jojoba) esters, natural fragrance, tocopherol (vitamin e, sunflower derived), beta-sitosterol, squalene

    Reading down: magnesium hydroxide is #1 — the ingredient
    the marketing is built around. Then a run of the base: coconut oil (#2), arrowroot
    powder (#3), fractionated coconut oil (#4), shea butter (#5). And at
    #6, sodium bicarbonate (baking soda). Positions #7 through #12 are
    structural or trace: candelilla wax holds the stick together, jojoba esters and the
    plant sterols are minor emollients, and tocopherol and squalene are antioxidants in
    small amounts. In an anhydrous stick — there is no water in this formula to
    dilute anything — the ingredients near the top of the list are doing essentially
    all of the substantive work, and two of them, magnesium hydroxide and baking soda, are
    alkaline odor neutralizers.

    Marketed hero
    Magnesium (“naturally enriched with magnesium”), listed as magnesium hydroxide #1
    Also present
    Sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) at #6, a second alkaline odor neutralizer
    Formula type
    Anhydrous stick (no water)
    Skin’s natural pH
    ~4.5–5.5 (the acid mantle)
    What the brand did about it
    Sells a separate “Sensitive” stick with the baking soda removed
    Source of list
    Major US retailer listing (read 20 Sep 2026), matching the brand’s own page and the Whole Foods listing
    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass up to a deodorant stick whose front reads Naturally Enriched With Magnesium, then peers past the word magnesium to a list of ingredients running down the back.
    The front says magnesium. Nib turns the stick around to read the rest of the list.

    Is magnesium hydroxide really “gentler” than baking soda?

    This is where the honest read matters, because the marketing is not simply
    wrong. Magnesium hydroxide and sodium bicarbonate are both alkaline, but they are
    not equally alkaline. Baking soda in solution sits around pH 8.3–9;
    magnesium hydroxide is higher on paper, around pH 10.5, but it is far less
    soluble, so in practice less of it goes into solution on the skin. Schmidt’s
    own materials describe magnesium as gentler than baking soda, and there is a
    defensible mechanism behind that. The catch is that their standard stick contains
    both — the gentler active and the baking soda — so the
    “gentle” framing describes only half of what is in the tube.

    For context on why any of this is worth a paragraph: a large multicentre study
    established that natural skin surface pH averages below 5, and that alkaline
    conditions (pH 8–9) encourage resident skin flora to disperse from the
    surface, while an acid pH keeps them attached
    (Lambers et al., Int J Cosmet Sci, 2006). A
    leave-on product that raises underarm pH is nudging against that acid mantle for
    hours at a time. That is the mechanism; it is not a claim that it harms anyone.

    Nib runs a pencil down a numbered column of ingredients and rests the tip on entry number six, which reads sodium bicarbonate, baking soda, with entry number one, magnesium hydroxide, circled at the top.
    Magnesium hydroxide is #1, the marketed hero. Six lines down, Nib finds baking soda.

    What does the research actually say about baking soda on skin?

    Less alarming than the internet would have you believe, and we would rather be
    accurate than dramatic. A 2024 peer-reviewed review of baking soda in dermatology
    concluded that “while diluted baking soda has little risk of irritation, the
    exact safe concentration for topical use is not clear,” and that harmful
    effects have been described in case reports
    (Dugué et al., J Integr Dermatol, 2024).
    That same review is broadly positive about baking soda for several dermatological
    uses. The literature does not say baking soda always causes a
    rash. It says the risk is concentration- and application-dependent, and that daily
    leave-on use on thin underarm skin is the higher-risk end of that range.

    Two named dermatologists make the same point in plainer terms for a consumer
    audience: baking soda is a common irritant in natural deodorants, and
    “natural” does not mean side-effect-free
    (SELF, quoting Skelsey MD and Vashi MD). Schmidt’s does
    not disclose the baking soda percentage — no manufacturer is required to
    — but position #6 in a short anhydrous stick, above the wax and the trace additives, suggests a functional,
    not trace, amount. We are not going to invent a number for it.

    The most telling evidence is not a study at all. It is that Schmidt’s
    built and sells a “Sensitive” formula that replaces the baking soda
    with additional magnesium hydroxide. A brand does not create an entire second
    product line to solve a problem that its standard product does not have for some
    share of buyers.

    Nib holds up two deodorant sticks side by side, one labelled Original and one labelled Sensitive, and points a pencil at the Sensitive stick, which has no baking soda line where the Original one does.
    There is a whole separate Sensitive stick with the baking soda taken out. That tells its own story.

    What about the scented versions and fragrance allergens?

    If you buy a scented Schmidt’s stick, the single most useful thing on the
    label is at the very bottom. Here is the Rose & Vanilla list, quoted verbatim
    from the same retailer (Rose & Vanilla, TCIN 52735112),
    read 20 September 2026:

    magnesium hydroxide, cocos nucifera (coconut) oil, maranta arundinacea powder, butyrospermum parkii (shea) butter, caprylic/capric triglyceride, sodium bicarbonate, euphorbia cerifera (candelilla) wax, fragrance (parfum), jojoba esters, tocopherol, beta-sitosterol, squalene, benzyl benzoate, benzyl cinnamate, citral, citronellol, eugenol, geraniol, limonene, linalool

    Sodium bicarbonate is again at #6. What is new is the tail: benzyl
    benzoate, benzyl cinnamate, citral, citronellol, eugenol, geraniol, limonene and
    linalool     — eight named fragrance components. They are spelled out
    because EU cosmetic rules require any of these to be declared once it exceeds
    0.001% in a leave-on product, so their presence by name means each is above that
    threshold. Several are well-evidenced contact allergens: limonene and linalool in
    particular oxidize on air exposure and become sensitizers, with reported contact-
    allergy prevalence as high as 9.4% and 20% respectively for their oxidized forms in
    patch-tested populations
    (fragrance contact-allergy review, Front Allergy,
    2024    ). If your skin reacts to fragrance, this list is genuinely more useful than
    anything on the front of the box — and it is the unscented stick, not a
    scented one, that spares you all eight.

    Ingredient Cactus Flower & Pear (unscented-style) Rose & Vanilla (scented)
    Magnesium hydroxide Position 1 Position 1
    Sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) Position 6 Position 6
    Named fragrance allergens None listed individually Eight (benzyl benzoate through linalool)
    Total ingredients 12 20
    Nib peers closely through the magnifying glass at a small cluster of labelled tags near the bottom of a scented variant's list, each tag reading a fragrance allergen name such as limonene and linalool.
    On the scented version, eight fragrance allergens are named at the bottom – the most useful lines for sensitive skin.

    So what if you want the magnesium without the baking soda?

    You have three honest options, and we will name all of them. First,
    Schmidt’s own Sensitive line exists precisely for
    this — it drops the baking soda and leans on magnesium hydroxide instead, so
    if you like the brand, that is the on-shelf answer to the very issue this article is
    about. Second, plenty of magnesium-only or baking-soda-free natural deodorants exist
    across the category; this is not a one-brand problem, and baking soda is common in
    “natural” sticks generally.

    Third — and read this knowing Ingredient Desk is published by the team
    behind Evil Goods — there is
    our aluminum-free tallow deodorant, built on a grass-fed tallow
    base rather than a baking-soda-and-magnesium one. Whether a tallow stick suits you
    is a separate question with its own trade-offs (it is an animal fat, and a rich
    balm-style deodorant behaves differently from a firm powder-based one). We are not
    going to compare percentages we cannot verify. The only point of comparison worth
    making is the one this whole piece is about: know what is actually at position #6 of
    whatever you are putting under your arm every day, and decide from there.

    FAQ

    Does Schmidt’s Natural Deodorant contain baking soda?
    Yes. On the current US label for the Cactus Flower & Pear stick (read at a major
    US retailer, 20 September 2026), sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) is the 6th
    ingredient listed. Magnesium hydroxide is #1.

    Isn’t Schmidt’s a magnesium deodorant, not a baking soda
    one?
    Magnesium hydroxide is the marketed hero and the first ingredient, and the brand
    describes it as gentler than baking soda. But the standard stick contains both
    — magnesium hydroxide at #1 and sodium bicarbonate at #6 — so it is a
    magnesium-and-baking-soda formula, not a magnesium-only one.

    Why does Schmidt’s sell a “Sensitive” version?
    The Sensitive line replaces the baking soda with additional magnesium hydroxide.
    Baking soda in daily leave-on underarm use is the ingredient most often linked to
    irritation in natural deodorants, and a separate baking-soda-free line is how the
    brand addresses that for buyers whose skin reacts.

    Is baking soda in deodorant bad for your skin?
    The research is nuanced. A 2024 dermatology review found diluted baking soda has
    little irritation risk but that the safe concentration for leave-on topical use is
    not settled, and case reports of irritation exist. It does not affect everyone; the
    risk is dose- and application-dependent, and daily underarm use is the higher-risk
    scenario.

    Ingredient Desk is published by the team behind Evil Goods. Prices, formulas
    and labels change; we date what we read and link the source so you can check it. If
    you want a baking-soda-free alternative, ours is the
    aluminum-free tallow deodorant (ours) — but Schmidt’s
    own Sensitive stick is the closest same-brand answer.

    Nib closes a small notebook titled Ingredient Desk, sets the magnifying glass down beside the fully-read deodorant stick, and gives a satisfied nod.
    Label read, top to bottom. The magnesium is real – and so is the baking soda at number six.

  • Vaseline Cocoa Radiant: The Cocoa Butter Is the 14th Ingredient

    Vaseline Intensive Care Cocoa Radiant Lotion is
    sold on the line “Made with Pure Cocoa Butter and Ultra-Hydrating
    Lipids.” On the current US ingredient list, cocoa butter
    (theobroma cacao seed butter) is the 14th ingredient listed —
    one step above the preservative phenoxyethanol, which is capped at 1%. The ingredients
    doing the actual moisturizing sit at the top of the list: water, glycerin and
    petrolatum. Petrolatum is Vaseline Jelly itself. The cocoa the
    bottle is named for arrives eleven positions later.

    This is a body lotion a lot of people buy for the cocoa butter — it is
    in the product’s name and on the front of the bottle. So it is worth doing
    the one thing the front of a bottle never invites you to do, which is turn it
    around and read the back. When you do, the story is not that cocoa butter is
    absent. It is there. The story is where it sits, what is above it, and one thing
    that used to be on this label and is not any more.

    Where does the cocoa butter actually sit on the label?

    Here is the full ingredient list, quoted verbatim as it appears on the
    product page at
    the product page at a major US retailer for the 10
    fl oz bottle (TCIN 12980791), read 19 September 2026. The same list appears on the 32 fl oz
    SKU. An independent ingredient database,
    Skinsort, records the same list ending in the
    same place — at caramel — which is how we can say the list below is
    complete rather than truncated.

    water (aqua), glycerin, petrolatum, stearic acid, dimethicone, butylene glycol, glycol stearate, peg-100 stearate, niacinamide, isopropyl myristate, sodium hydroxypropyl starch phosphate, helianthus annuus (sunflower) seed oil, cocos nucifera (coconut) oil, theobroma cacao (cocoa) seed butter, phenoxyethanol, glyceryl stearate, cetyl alcohol, magnesium aluminum silicate, fragrance, methylparaben, xanthan gum, propylparaben, stearamide amp, disodium edta, coumarin, geraniol, hexyl cinnamal, hydroxycitronellal, limonene, linalool, caramel

    Reading down: water is #1, glycerin #2,
    petrolatum #3. Those three are the moisturizer. Glycerin is the
    humectant that pulls water into the skin; petrolatum — which is Vaseline
    Jelly, the brand’s own signature ingredient — is the occlusive that
    seals it in. Between them and the cocoa butter sit stearic acid, dimethicone, a
    run of emulsifiers, niacinamide, and two carrier oils (sunflower and coconut).
    Theobroma cacao (cocoa) seed butter is #14. The next ingredient,
    at #15, is phenoxyethanol.

    That neighbor matters. Phenoxyethanol is a preservative that EU cosmetic rules
    cap at a maximum of 1% in leave-on products, and it is typically used at or near
    that ceiling
    (EU SCCS Opinion on Phenoxyethanol, 2021). Ingredient lists
    are ordered roughly by weight down to about the 1% mark. Cocoa butter sitting one
    rung above a ≤1% preservative does not prove an exact percentage — and we
    are not going to invent one — but it places the marketed hero in the
    low-single-digit part of the formula, not the headline part.

    Marketed hero
    “Pure Cocoa Butter”
    Position on label
    #14, theobroma cacao seed butter
    What sits at #1–#3
    Water, glycerin, petrolatum — the actual moisturizer
    Next ingredient after cocoa
    Phenoxyethanol, #15 (capped at ≤1%)
    Source of list
    Major US retailer listing (read 19 Sep 2026), corroborated by Skinsort — identical list, same ending
    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass up to a bottle of body lotion whose front reads Cocoa Radiant, then peers past the word to a long ingredient list running down the back.
    Named Cocoa Radiant. Nib turns the bottle around to find where the cocoa butter actually is.

    Wait — where did the shea butter go?

    This is the part that surprised us. Some listings and older bottles carry the
    words “cocoa & shea.” An older, shea-containing version of this
    formula lists both butters, with cocoa butter and butyrospermum parkii (shea)
    butter sitting next to each other near the middle of the list. This older formulation is
    recorded in EWG’s Skin Deep database, and Vaseline’s
    own regional product pages outside the US still show shea in the ingredient list
    today, right beside the cocoa butter.

    On the current US label quoted above, shea butter is not there.
    We read the full list top to bottom, and again on the corroborating Skinsort
    entry, and butyrospermum parkii does not appear in either. The US formula has
    been meaningfully reworked since that older version — it gained niacinamide,
    sunflower oil and coconut oil, moved cocoa butter down the list, and dropped shea.
    We are reporting what two current US sources show; a physical bottle bought in a
    US store is the final word, and if yours lists shea, the label in your hand beats
    a database.

    Ingredient Older formula (EWG, ~2019–2020) Current US label (2026)
    Cocoa butter Position 10 Position 14
    Shea butter Position 11 Not listed
    Niacinamide Absent Position 9
    Sunflower seed oil Absent Position 12
    Coconut oil Absent Position 13
    Named fragrance allergens None listed individually Six, positions 25–30

    For reference, here is the older list in full, so you can check us:

    water (aqua), petrolatum, glycerin, stearic acid, isopropyl palmitate, glycol stearate, dimethicone, triethanolamine, glyceryl stearate, theobroma cacao (cocoa) seed butter, butyrospermum parkii (shea) butter, cetyl alcohol, phenoxyethanol, fragrance (parfum), methylparaben, magnesium aluminum silicate, carbomer, propylparaben, disodium edta, stearamide amp, caramel, titanium dioxide (ci 77891)

    Nib runs a pencil down a numbered column of ingredients and rests the tip on entry number fourteen, which reads cocoa seed butter, with entries one, two and three circled at the very top.
    Cocoa butter lands at position fourteen. Water, glycerin and petrolatum, the ones doing the moisturizing, sit right at the top.

    What is the most useful thing on this label?

    Not the cocoa butter. It is the last six lines. At positions #25 through #30
    the list names six specific fragrance ingredients: coumarin, geraniol,
    hexyl cinnamal, hydroxycitronellal, limonene and linalool.     These are
    declared by name because EU cosmetic rules require it once a fragrance component
    exceeds 0.001% in a leave-on product
    (EU Regulation 2023/1545, which expanded the named-allergen
    list    ). Their presence by name means each is confirmed above that threshold.

    All six are on the EU’s regulated fragrance-allergen list. If your skin
    reacts to fragrance, this is genuinely the most practically useful information on
    the bottle — more useful than anything on the front. One caveat worth
    naming: US FDA rules do not require this individual disclosure, so a US-store
    bottle might list only “fragrance” without the six names. The list we
    quoted does spell them out, which is either a globally-drafted EU-format label or
    a signal to check the specific bottle in your hand.

    Nib holds a pair of ingredient lists side by side, an old shorter one and a new longer one, and points a pencil at a line reading shea butter that is present on the old list and missing from the new one.
    An older version of this formula listed shea butter. On the current US label, Nib cannot find it.

    Is phenoxyethanol at #15 something to worry about?

    Short answer: for most people, no, and it is worth being accurate rather than
    alarmed here. Phenoxyethanol is the most common preservative in modern cosmetics.
    The EU’s scientific committee reviewed it and classified it as low risk for
    sensitization, with a sensitization frequency in patch-tested populations of about
    0.24% (roughly 1 in 400) in surveillance data
    (SCCS, 2021). That is low, and the label should get credit
    for using a well-understood preservative rather than a novelty one.

    There is a narrower signal worth knowing if you apply body lotion to your face,
    which many buyers of this one do. A 2024 case series in Contact Dermatitis
    reported two confirmed cases of contact urticaria from phenoxyethanol that showed
    up specifically on the face, confirmed by patch testing
    (Marzola et al., 2024). Two cases is a case series,
    not an epidemic — we flag it because it is real and face-specific, not
    because it changes the risk picture for most people. The evidence here is small,
    and we would rather say so than dress it up.

    Nib peers closely through the magnifying glass at a tidy cluster of six small labelled tags near the bottom of the list, each tag reading a fragrance name.
    Near the bottom, six named fragrance ingredients – the most useful thing on the label for sensitive skin.

    So what actually moisturizes better than a cocoa hero at #14?

    Here is the honest read: this is not a bad lotion. Water, glycerin and
    petrolatum is a genuinely effective moisturizing base — petrolatum is one of
    the best occlusives there is. The gap is only between what the front of the bottle
    implies (a cocoa butter product) and what the label says (a petrolatum-and-glycerin
    product with cocoa butter at #14). If that gap bothers you, the fix is a formula
    where the ingredient on the front is actually near the top.

    That is the thing we make, so read this knowing Ingredient Desk is published by
    the team behind Evil Goods. Our
    beef tallow moisturizer (our page) is built on tallow, Manuka
    honey, olive oil and vitamin E — the emollients are the formula, not the
    14th line of it. Whether tallow suits you is a separate question with its own
    trade-offs (it is an animal fat, and some people find any rich occlusive too heavy),
    and we have written elsewhere about who it does and does not work for. The point of
    comparison is only this: on our label, the ingredient we lead with is the ingredient
    you get most of.

    FAQ

    Where does cocoa butter sit in Vaseline Cocoa Radiant Lotion?
    On the current US label (read at a major US retailer, 19 September 2026), theobroma
    cacao seed butter is the 14th ingredient listed, one position above the preservative
    phenoxyethanol. Water, glycerin and petrolatum — the trio that does the
    moisturizing — are #1, #2 and #3.

    Does Vaseline Cocoa Radiant still contain shea butter?
    The current US ingredient list we read does not include butyrospermum parkii
    (shea) butter, and an independent database records the same list — ending
    at caramel — without it. An older 2019–2020 version of the formula did list shea, and
    some non-US bottles still do. Check the label on the specific bottle you have; it
    is the final word.

    What are the six fragrance ingredients named on the label?
    Coumarin, geraniol, hexyl cinnamal, hydroxycitronellal, limonene and linalool.
    They are declared by name under EU rules because each is present above 0.001% in
    this leave-on product, and all six are recognized fragrance allergens. If you
    react to fragrance, this is the most useful list on the bottle.

    Is phenoxyethanol in this lotion harmful?
    For most people it is a low-risk, widely-used preservative — the EU’s
    scientific committee puts the sensitization frequency at about 0.24% in
    patch-tested populations. A 2024 case series reported two face-specific reactions,
    which is worth knowing if you use body lotion on your face, but two cases is a
    small signal, not a general warning.

    Ingredient Desk is published by the team behind Evil Goods. Prices,
    formulas and labels change; we date what we read and link the source so you can
    check it. If you want the moisturizer we make, it is the
    Whipped Tallow & Manuka Honey Moisturizer (ours).

    Nib closes a small notebook titled Ingredient Desk, sets the magnifying glass down beside the fully-read bottle, and gives a satisfied nod.
    Label read, top to bottom. The cocoa butter is real – it is just the fourteenth thing in the bottle.

  • Lume Cream Deodorant: Mandelic Acid Is Position 2 — But Two Numbers Aren’t on the Label

    On Lume’s Whole Body Deodorant Invisible Cream (scented), mandelic acid is the second ingredient — right after water and ahead of everything else. So the marketed hero is not buried; it is genuinely near the top. What the label will not tell you is the two numbers that decide whether that matters: the actual percentage of mandelic acid, and the finished pH. Both are absent from the box, and both are what published research says the outcome hinges on.

    This is the site’s usual game — read the label, find where the star ingredient really sits — but Lume plays it back at us. Most “read the label” stories end with the hero ingredient hiding near the preservatives. Here it doesn’t. Mandelic acid is position 2. The interesting part is everything the ingredient order still can’t tell you.

    Where does mandelic acid actually sit on the label?

    Here is the full list, quoted verbatim from Lume’s own ingredients page for the scented Invisible Cream, read on 18 September 2026:

    Water, Mandelic Acid, Maranta Arundinacea Root Powder, Tapioca Starch, Isoamyl Laurate, Hydroxypropyl Starch Phosphate, Cetearyl Alcohol, Caffeine, Caprylic/Capric Triglyceride, Behenyl Alcohol, Hydrogenated Castor Oil, Fragrance, Aloe Barbadensis Leaf Juice, Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Seed Butter, Floral Pyranol, Tocopherol, Allantoin, Panthenol, Sandalrome, Stearyl Alcohol, Dimethicone, Cetearyl Glucoside, Pentylene Glycol, Phenylpropanol, Potassium Hydroxide, Dipropylene Glycol, Sodium Benzoate, Tetrasodium Glutamate Diacetate

    Source: lumedeodorant.com/ingredients (the unscented cream drops Fragrance, Floral Pyranol and Sandalrome; every other position is the same). Lume’s own page adds the caveat that the packaging is the authoritative list, so I’m analysing the scented tube exactly as published and naming it as such.

    Ingredient lists in the US run in descending order of concentration down to 1%, after which order stops being required. Mandelic acid at position 2 sits well above that 1% floor, so it is present at a meaningful level — this is not the squalane-after-the-preservative trick. What follows are the cheap absorbent starches that give almost every “natural” deodorant its body — arrowroot powder and tapioca starch back to back, then a modified starch phosphate a few slots later. Under those, fatty alcohols and emollient esters. It’s a competent, ordinary natural-deodorant base built around one acid.

    Nib the round desk creature holding a magnifying glass over a deodorant tube, squinting at the ingredient list on the back.
    Nib finds mandelic acid sitting right at the top of the list — and then starts wondering what the list doesn’t say.

    What can’t you read from the position alone?

    Two things, and they’re the two that matter most.

    The percentage. Position 2 tells you mandelic acid beats every ingredient except water. It doesn’t tell you whether that’s 3% or 12%. In the published work on mandelic acid’s antimicrobial activity, concentration is the whole story. A 2023 study of mandelic-acid hand gels (Łobacz et al., Int J Mol Sci) found the inhibition zones against odour-associated bacteria grew with dose — 10% did markedly more than 5%. A companion paper measuring the minimum inhibitory concentration (Szponar et al., Int J Mol Sci) put the MIC against Staphylococcus aureus near 0.175% in a test tube. So the bar to “does something” is low, but the effect keeps climbing with dose — and the label puts Lume’s number somewhere inside a very wide range you can’t see.

    What the label confirms
    Mandelic acid is the highest-concentration functional ingredient, present above 1%.
    What the label hides
    The exact percentage — the single figure the published dose-response work turns on.
    What the label hides
    The finished pH — which decides how much of that acid is in its active form.
    Nib holding up a blank sheet marked with a percent sign and a question mark, shrugging, because no number is printed on it.
    The one figure that would settle the whole question — the concentration — is the one the label never prints.

    Why does the potassium hydroxide near the end matter?

    Second number: pH. An alpha hydroxy acid like mandelic acid only stays in its active, un-neutralised form in an acidic formula. Mandelic acid’s pKa is about 3.4, so at a pH around 3.5–4.0 most of it stays acidic; push the pH up and more of it converts to potassium mandelate, the salt. That conversion isn’t cosmetic: in the MIC paper above, the potassium salt was a weaker antimicrobial than the free acid.

    Now look at position 25: Potassium Hydroxide. KOH is a base — it’s there to raise pH. That confirms the formula is being pH-adjusted, but not to what. Lume’s help pages describe a pH in the 3.5–4.0 range, which would keep most of the acid active if accurate; that figure isn’t printed on the box and a shopper can’t verify it. So the label confirms pH-tuning is happening and leaves you to trust the direction.

    Nib with a small pH strip and a pencil, tapping a bottle of potassium hydroxide, working out the acidity math.
    Potassium hydroxide near the end of the list is the pH dial. Which way it’s turned, you can’t read from the box.

    What about the 72-hour claim and the caffeine?

    Lume’s headline has long been a clinically-tested 72-hour odour-control claim. The testing behind it was run by Princeton Consumer Research, a third-party consumer-testing centre, on a panel of women — a consumer study, not a peer-reviewed publication, and Lume’s own help page clarifies that 72-hour control doesn’t mean zero odour for 72 hours. That framing was challenged in Nelson v. Lume Deodorant, LLC (E.D.N.Y., 2023), which argued the study showed superiority over competitors rather than absolute all-day performance and that the samples weren’t large or diverse enough. That case was voluntarily dismissed with prejudice on 13 December 2023 — the plaintiff walked away, which is not a ruling either way. Separate 2025 suits naming Lume have since been reported; none has a certified class, and all allegations remain unproven. I’m pointing at the record, not the verdict.

    There’s a regulatory reason a clinical-test claim reads differently here than on, say, a sunscreen. A mandelic-acid deodorant is a cosmetic; an aluminium-based antiperspirant is an OTC drug under the FDA’s antiperspirant monograph. Cosmetic claims don’t carry the drug-level substantiation bar, so a clinical-test claim on a deodorant means whatever the brand’s own testing says it means. The caffeine at position 8 is its own small puzzle: it has vasoconstrictive properties but no published mechanism for controlling underarm odour, and Lume’s materials don’t explain what it’s doing there. Read it as a label ingredient until someone shows otherwise.

    Nib pinching a nose over an open scent bottle, a small cloud of fragrance drawn rising from an underarm sketch nearby.
    Fragrance sits mid-list, and the underarm is a tender spot for the fragrance-sensitised few — though the label won’t say which allergens are in it.

    Is the fragrance worth a second look?

    The scented cream lists “Fragrance” at position 12, plus two named synthetic fragrance molecules further down (Floral Pyranol and Sandalrome). The underarm is one of the more reactive spots for fragrance contact allergy: a classic provocation study using deodorants (Johansen et al., J Am Acad Dermatol, 2003) showed that fragrance allergens at everyday concentrations could provoke axillary dermatitis in already-sensitised people within weeks, and the EU’s scientific committee has documented deodorants as a common trigger in fragrance-sensitive patients (SCCP opinion on fragrance allergy). That’s a risk for the fragrance-sensitised minority, not everyone — and “Fragrance” as an umbrella term means the specific allergens in this cream aren’t disclosed, so I can’t tell you which are present. The unscented cream sidesteps the whole question by leaving fragrance out.

    So what would a simpler label look like?

    If the appeal of Lume is “fewer moving parts than an antiperspirant,” it’s worth seeing what a genuinely short list reads like. Our own tallow deodorant — Ingredient Desk is published by the team behind Evil Goods, and I’ll always say so — is a tallow-based aluminium-free deodorant whose named ingredients you can count on one hand. I won’t quote a fixed number, because the site’s own copy isn’t fully consistent yet and I’d rather name ingredients than count them; the point isn’t that it’s better at odour control — that would need its own testing — but that a shorter, named list gives a reader less to wonder about. Lume’s list isn’t sinister; it’s just long, and two of the numbers that would let you judge it aren’t on the box.

    The honest summary

    Mandelic acid at position 2 is a real, near-the-top inclusion — credit where it’s due, no burial here. The formula’s bulk is water, starch-family absorbers and fatty alcohols: a standard natural-deodorant base, not a house of horrors. The fair critique isn’t “this is bad,” it’s “the label can’t answer the two questions that decide whether the hero ingredient is working” — its percentage and the finished pH — and the flagship clinically-tested 72-hour claim rests on a consumer panel that was pointed enough to draw a lawsuit before the plaintiff dropped it. Read the label, note what’s missing, and keep your expectations sized to what’s actually disclosed.

    Nib closing a notebook and giving a small satisfied nod, magnifying glass set down, the reviewed tube standing beside a tidy desk lamp.
    Nib’s verdict: not a buried hero, not a sinister formula — just a label that stops short of the two numbers that would answer the question.

  • La Roche-Posay Toleriane: Ceramide Is the 9th Ingredient. Niacinamide Is the 5th.

    On its own marketing, La Roche-Posay lists this
    moisturizer’s “key dermatological ingredients” as thermal
    water, then Ceramide-3, then niacinamide, then glycerin. On the actual INCI
    list, glycerin is the 2nd ingredient, niacinamide is the 5th, and the ceramide
    the brand leads with is the 9th — sitting behind two synthetic emollients
    and a thickening polymer. The label and the marketing tell that ingredient
    story in a different order.

    La Roche-Posay Toleriane Double Repair Face Moisturizer is, by Amazon unit
    data, one of the best-selling drugstore face moisturizers in the United States
    — six-figure monthly unit sales at around $24.99. It is marketed, front
    and center, on its ceramide. We read the CeraVe label on September 2; this
    is a different brand, a different formula, and a slightly different story. Here
    the interesting thing is not where the ceramide is buried so much as
    the gap between the order the brand names its ingredients in and the order
    they appear on the label.

    What does La Roche-Posay actually lead with?

    On the US product pages, the brand frames four “key dermatological
    ingredients,” in this sequence:

    1. La Roche-Posay Prebiotic Thermal Water
    2. Ceramide-3
    3. Niacinamide
    4. Glycerin

    That is a marketing hierarchy, and there is nothing unusual about a brand
    choosing which ingredients to talk about. Ceramide sits second in that list,
    above niacinamide and above glycerin. A shopper skimming the page would
    reasonably read that as: this is a ceramide product, with some niacinamide and
    glycerin along for support. Then you turn to the ingredient list itself.

    Nib, a small round creature drawn in loose pencil, holds a magnifying glass up to a long moisturizer ingredient list, eyebrows raised at how far down the marked ingredient sits.
    Nib reads the label the brand’s front-of-pack copy skips past.

    Where does the ceramide actually sit?

    Here is the full INCI list, quoted verbatim from the Ulta product page for
    the 3.38 oz “with Niacinamide” variant (Item 2509730),
    fetched 2026-09-17:

    Water (La Roche-Posay Prebiotic Thermal Water), Glycerin, Dimethicone, Hydrogenated Polyisobutene, Niacinamide, Ammonium Polyacryloyldimethyl Taurate, Myristyl Myristate, Stearic Acid, Ceramide NP, Potassium Cetyl Phosphate, Isobutane, Glyceryl Stearate SE, Sodium Hydroxide, Myristic Acid, Palmitic Acid, Capryloyl Glycine, Caprylyl Glycol, Xanthan Gum, T-Butyl Alcohol, Acrylonitrile/Methyl Methacrylate/Vinylidene Chloride Copolymer, Tocopherol.

    Twenty-one entries once the display artifacts are resolved (the Ulta CMS
    wraps two single INCI names across commas; the canonical list from
    ingredient databases
    shows the same twenty-one). Number them and the picture is plain:

    Position Ingredient What it is
    1 Water (Prebiotic Thermal Water) Solvent base
    2 Glycerin Humectant — the brand’s
    “4th” key ingredient, 2nd on the label
    3 Dimethicone Silicone emollient
    4 Hydrogenated Polyisobutene Synthetic emollient
    5 Niacinamide The brand’s “3rd” key
    ingredient, 5th on the label
    9 Ceramide NP The brand’s “2nd” key
    ingredient — 9th on the label

    Both glycerin and niacinamide outrank the ceramide on the actual list. The
    single component the brand names second is the one that appears ninth on the
    label. That is checkable, and it is the whole story in a sentence.

    Nib stands beside a tall stack of ingredient tiles labelled by number, pointing a pencil at tile number nine near the top of a much taller pile, looking thoughtful rather than cross.
    Positions two and five sit above position nine. The label keeps its own order.

    What’s carrying the skin feel before the ceramide?

    The pair sitting between niacinamide and the ceramide —
    dimethicone at #3 and hydrogenated polyisobutene at #4 — are the
    formula’s emollient base. Dimethicone is a silicone that gives the cream
    its slip; hydrogenated polyisobutene is a petroleum-derived synthetic emollient
    that helps it spread. Together they are what makes the product feel smooth and
    lightweight. That is standard, competent formulation practice, and worth
    knowing about: the skin feel you notice first is largely these two, and they
    sit ahead of every one of the marketed actives.

    If you specifically want a moisturizer whose emollient base is skin-identical
    fats rather than silicone and synthetic emollient, that is a different design
    choice, and it’s the one our own Tallow for Sensitive Skin
    page (Evil Goods)     argues for — beef tallow’s stearic, oleic and
    palmitic acids track the human skin barrier’s own lipid profile, with no
    dimethicone or hydrogenated polyisobutene doing the spreading. That is a
    formulation preference, not a verdict on the LRP cream, which is a perfectly
    reasonable product; we’re the team behind Evil Goods and we’ll always
    say so.

    Nib pours two labelled beakers, one marked with a silicone symbol and one with a fat droplet, comparing them on a small balance scale, curious about which base is which.
    The base that delivers the skin feel arrives before any of the headline actives.

    Is niacinamide sitting above ceramide actually a problem?

    Here is the honest part, and it cuts against a lazy reading of the label.
    Niacinamide being higher than the ceramide is not necessarily bad formulation.
    Niacinamide (vitamin B3) has been shown to stimulate the skin’s
    own ceramide production: a
    2000 study in the British
    Journal of Dermatology     found it upregulates serine palmitoyltransferase,
    the rate-limiting enzyme in ceramide synthesis, boosting keratinocyte ceramide
    output several-fold at cosmetic concentrations. So a formula could be
    supporting skin ceramides two ways at once — a topical ceramide at #9 and
    niacinamide at #5 nudging the skin to make more of its own. That is coherent
    science, not filler.

    Which is exactly why the marketing order is the fair thing to point at. If
    niacinamide may be doing as much barrier-ceramide work as the ceramide itself,
    leading with “ceramide” and listing niacinamide behind it tells a
    tidier story than the label supports. The evidence for topical ceramides, for
    what it’s worth, is real but mixed: a
    2023 meta-analysis
    found ceramide moisturizers improved eczema severity scores versus comparators,
    but the improvement in transepidermal water loss — the direct barrier
    measure — did not reach statistical significance and varied widely across
    studies. And a
    2026 study reports that
    ultra-long-chain ceramides outperform shorter-chain ones for barrier recovery;
    the label says “Ceramide NP” without stating the chain length. None
    of that makes the product ineffective. It just means the ceramide story is more
    qualified than a front-of-pack callout can carry.

    Nib scribbles a small diagram of an arrow looping from a B3 label back into a stack of ceramide bricks, delighted at having connected the two, pencil raised.
    Niacinamide can prompt the skin to build its own ceramides. That is a point in the formula’s favour, not against it.

    What else is in there that the marketing skips?

    Two components near the bottom are worth a mention because they never
    appear in the brand’s copy. At #20 sits Acrylonitrile/Methyl
    Methacrylate/Vinylidene Chloride Copolymer — what ingredient databases
    identify as Expancel-type microspheres, tiny gas-filled thermoplastic beads
    that improve the feel of aqueous creams. The gas that fills them, isobutane,
    sits at position #11 on the label. They are a texture technology used widely
    across the
    L’Oréal group (La Roche-Posay is part of it), and their job is feel,
    not barrier repair. Nothing alarming; just not the story on the front of the
    jar.

    One more, flagged carefully: T-Butyl Alcohol at #19. Ingredient databases
    tag it “perfuming, solvent,” and this product is labelled Fragrance
    Free. Its most likely job here is as a processing solvent for the microsphere
    system, and its “perfuming” tag reflects an EU fragrance-database
    listing rather than evidence it functions as a fragrance in this cream. We are
    not saying it is hidden fragrance — only that a curious reader who cross-
    references databases will find the label there, and the brand categorises it as
    a solvent. Worth knowing, not worth alarm.

    Frequently asked questions

    Where is the ceramide on La Roche-Posay Toleriane Double Repair?
    Ceramide NP is the 9th of twenty-one entries on the INCI list quoted above
    (Ulta, fetched 2026-09-17). The brand names it second in its “key
    ingredients” marketing.
    Is niacinamide higher than ceramide in this formula?
    Yes. Niacinamide is the 5th ingredient; Ceramide NP is the 9th. Glycerin,
    at #2, also outranks the ceramide.
    Does that mean the product doesn’t work?
    No. Niacinamide can stimulate the skin’s own ceramide synthesis, so a
    formula leaning on both has a coherent rationale. The point here is that the
    marketing order and the label order differ — not that the formula is
    weak. We can’t verify the ceramide concentration; the brand doesn’t
    disclose it.
    What are the plastic microspheres in it?
    Databases identify the copolymer at #20 as Expancel-type microspheres,
    gas-filled beads that modify texture. They are a feel ingredient, not a
    barrier active, and the brand doesn’t mention them.

    Sourcing. INCI quoted verbatim from
    Ulta (Item 2509730), fetched 2026-09-17, and corroborated by two
    independent ingredient databases showing an identical list. One older
    third-party entry lists a shorter formula with squalane and corn starch and
    without the microsphere system — likely a previous or variant formula;
    we used the current, widely-sold US version above. We could
    not fetch La Roche-Posay’s own full INCI (the site returned a 403), and
    we can’t verify the ceramide concentration or the brand’s
    “restores the barrier in 1 hour” page claim, which is unverified
    rather than disproven.

    Nib sits back at a tidy desk, magnifying glass down, the numbered ingredient list pinned neatly to the wall, giving a small satisfied nod at a job read to the end.
    Read to the bottom of the list, the order tells its own story.

  • Drunk Elephant Protini: The 9 Peptides Are #10–18. Then Come 10 Amino Acids.

    Drunk Elephant Protini is named for polypeptides and
    marketed on “nine signal peptides.” On the ingredient list, those nine
    peptides sit together at positions #10 through #18 — genuinely mid-list, not
    buried at the bottom. The catch is not where they sit. It is what comes right
    after them: ten individual amino acids at positions #19 through #28, which the
    brand groups under the same peptide-complex language. An amino acid is not a
    peptide; it is what a peptide is made of. Those are different things.

    Most of the labels we read here end with the marketed hero hiding somewhere
    below the preservatives — retinol at #26, hyaluronic acid at #25. Protini is
    the opposite case, and that is exactly what makes it interesting. Drunk Elephant
    put its nine peptides where you would hope to find them, in one tidy block near
    the top of the list. So the usual gotcha does not apply. The interesting
    questions are different: what are those nine peptides, does the research support
    what they are named for, and what is that long run of ingredients that follows?

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass to a jar of moisturizer whose front reads Polypeptide, then peers past it at a long ingredient list running down the side.
    Named for polypeptides. Nib turns the jar around to find where the nine actually live.

    Where do the nine signal peptides actually sit?

    Here is the full list, quoted verbatim as it appears on the product page at
    Ulta.com,
    fetched 16 September 2026 (item #2588434). The list on the product’s page at
    a second major beauty retailer, read the same week, is identical word for word,
    down to the spacing.

    Water/Aqua/Eau, Dicaprylyl Carbonate, Glycerin, Cetearyl Alcohol, Cetearyl Olivate, Sorbitan Olivate, Sclerocarya Birrea Seed Oil, Bacillus/ Folic Acid Ferment Filtrate Extract, Nymphaea Alba Root Extract, sh-Oligopeptide-1, sh-Oligopeptide-2, sh-Polypeptide-1, sh-Polypeptide-9, sh-Polypeptide-11, Copper Palmitoyl Heptapeptide-14, Heptapeptide-15 Palmitate, Palmitoyl Tetrapeptide-7, Palmitoyl Tripeptide-1, Alanine, Arginine, Glycine, Histidine, Isoleucine, Phenylalanine, Proline, Serine, Threonine, Valine, Acetyl Glutamine, Coconut Alkanes, Coco-Caprylate/Caprate, Sodium Hyaluronate, Aspartic Acid, Linoleic Acid, Linolenic Acid, Lecithin, Butylene Glycol, Polyvinyl Alcohol, Sodium Lactate, Sodium PCA, PCA, Sorbitan Isostearate, Carbomer, Polysorbate 20, Polysorbate 60, Lactic Acid/Glycolic Acid Copolymer, Hydroxyethyl Acrylate/Sodium Acryloyldimethyl Taurate Copolymer, Xanthan Gum, Isomalt, 1,2-Hexanediol, Caprylyl Glycol, Chlorphenesin, Phenoxyethanol, Tocopherol, Sodium Benzoate, Phenylpropanol, Glyceryl Caprylate, Symphytum Officinale Callus Culture Extract.

    The nine peptides the product is named after run from
    sh-Oligopeptide-1 at position #10 to
    Palmitoyl Tripeptide-1 at position #18 — nine names in an
    unbroken block. Above them are eight ingredients that are none of them a peptide:
    water, an emollient ester, glycerin, two fatty-alcohol emulsifiers, a pair of
    olive-derived emulsifiers, marula oil, and two ferment extracts. On an ingredient
    list, where things are ordered roughly by weight down to about the 1% mark, that
    puts the peptide block mid-list rather than at the top. Not hidden, not headline.
    Somewhere in the honest middle.

    Marketed hero
    Nine “signal peptides”
    Position on label
    #10 through #18, one contiguous block
    What sits above them
    Eight ingredients, none a peptide
    Ingredients on the label
    Fifty-eight
    Source of list
    Ulta.com (fetched 16 Sep 2026) and a second major retailer, same week — identical

    So this is not a “the hero is at #26” story. Credit where it is
    due: the peptides are real and reasonably placed. The story is what they are, and
    whether the research backs the word on the front of the jar.

    Nib runs a pencil down a numbered column and rests it on a tight block of nine little peptide tags clustered together between positions ten and eighteen.
    The nine signal peptides sit together at positions ten through eighteen – mid-list, not buried.

    Do the peptides do what the name promises?

    Five of the nine — the sh-Oligopeptide and sh-Polypeptide entries at
    positions #10 through #14 — are cosmetic-grade analogs of growth factors.
    sh-Oligopeptide-1, at #10, is the INCI name for a synthetic epidermal growth
    factor analog. This is where the evidence gets thin, and it is worth being
    precise about how thin.

    A 2023 review in Cutaneous and Ocular Toxicology looked specifically
    at topical sh-oligopeptide-1 and concluded that its preclinical bioactivity as a
    functional growth factor has not been demonstrated, meaning clinical trials that
    treat it as equivalent to functional recombinant growth factor may not rest on a
    valid foundation (Martínez-Carpio,
    2023, PubMed    ). That is an evidence-quality critique, not a safety alarm: the
    question is whether the molecule does the job it is named for, not whether it is
    harmful.

    Zoom out to the whole category and the picture is consistent. A systematic
    review of topical growth-factor preparations — 33 studies, nine randomized
    controlled trials, 1,180 participants — found modest improvements in
    texture and fine lines versus baseline, with three of the comparative RCTs showing
    no statistically significant difference between treatments, and the studies
    limited by heterogeneity and weak placebo controls
    (Quinlan et al.,
    Journal of Cosmetic Dermatology, 2023, PubMed    ). Modest and inconsistent is
    the honest reading — not dismissal, not endorsement.

    The last two of the nine are a different, better story. Palmitoyl Tetrapeptide-7
    and Palmitoyl Tripeptide-1, at #17 and #18, are the two peptides marketed together
    as Matrixyl 3000. A 45-person randomized, placebo-controlled study reported around
    52% wrinkle reduction over twelve weeks — better evidence than the growth
    factor peptides above them, though the trial was manufacturer-commissioned and the
    two peptides are always tested as a pair, so the data cannot separate them
    (peptidings.com,
    2026    ). So within the nine, the picture is mixed: the two at the bottom of the
    block have the most credible support, and the five growth-factor analogs above
    them the least.

    What is that long run of ingredients after the peptides?

    This is the part of the label worth reading slowly. Directly below the nine
    peptides, positions #19 through #28 are ten individual amino acids in a row:
    alanine, arginine, glycine, histidine, isoleucine, phenylalanine, proline, serine,
    threonine and valine, with acetyl glutamine at #29. Drunk Elephant groups these
    under the same “Signal Peptide Complex” language it uses for the
    peptides — but they are not peptides.

    Nib stands beside a neat row of ten identical amino-acid blocks, counting them on stubby fingers, with a small sign above the row reading not peptides.
    Then ten single amino acids in a row. An amino acid is what a peptide is made of, not a peptide.

    The distinction matters and it is not pedantry. A peptide is two or more amino
    acids joined by a peptide bond; that bond is what lets it act as a signal. A free
    amino acid on its own is the raw material, not the assembled thing. The ten listed
    here are among the cheapest commodity inputs in a cosmetic chemist’s cabinet,
    and they do a real, modest job as surface humectants — they are Natural
    Moisturizing Factor components, the same molecules your skin already uses to hold
    water. That is fine. What is worth noticing is the effect on the label: the
    peptide-and-amino-acid run stretches from position #10 all the way to #29, twenty
    consecutive entries, which reads as a peptide powerhouse when read for length.
    Ten of those twenty are single amino acids.

    Label positions What sits there What the position implies
    1–9 Water, emollients, emulsifiers, marula oil, two ferments The base and texture — none of them a peptide
    10–14 Five growth-factor analogs (sh-Oligo/Polypeptides) Real peptides, mid-list; cosmetic bioactivity contested
    15–16 Copper Palmitoyl Heptapeptide-14, Heptapeptide-15 Palmitate Copper peptide plus a palmitoylated heptapeptide
    17–18 Palmitoyl Tetrapeptide-7, Palmitoyl Tripeptide-1 Matrixyl 3000 pair — best-studied of the nine
    19–29 Ten amino acids + acetyl glutamine Cheap humectants; not peptides
    32 Sodium Hyaluronate Below the whole peptide/amino-acid block

    To be fair to the formula: none of this is deceptive on the label itself. The
    list is honest and complete. It is the marketing language wrapped around it —
    counting ten amino acids toward the impression of a peptide complex — that a
    slow read pulls apart.

    Nib holds up two copper coins side by side - one large and dented and labelled old, one small and shiny and labelled new - comparing them through the magnifying glass.
    Two different copper peptides. The one here is the newer, less-studied cousin of the classic GHK-Cu.

    Is the copper peptide in here the one with the research behind it?

    At position #15 is Copper Palmitoyl Heptapeptide-14 — a copper-bearing
    peptide. It is easy to assume this is the copper peptide with the long research
    record. It is not. The copper peptide that has been studied since the 1970s is
    Copper Tripeptide-1, better known as GHK-Cu. Copper Palmitoyl Heptapeptide-14 is a
    newer, oil-soluble variant marketed on superior delivery, but with a much shorter
    research history. GHK-Cu has been studied since the 1970s across many independent
    papers; Copper Palmitoyl Heptapeptide-14 is the payload peptide in a newer
    encapsulated delivery system (trade-named X50), and the evidence cited for it is a
    single 30-person, 28-day manufacturer in-vivo test rather than a body of
    independent work (INCIDecoder,
    Copper Palmitoyl Heptapeptide-14    ). Neither is a bad ingredient. They are just
    not the same molecule, and the older one is the one with the deeper record.

    That contrast is worth flagging because we make a copper peptide product and it
    uses the other one. Evil Goods’
    Copper
    Peptide Blue Honey Cream (our product)     is built on Copper Tripeptide-1
    — the GHK-Cu with the longer research record — alongside Manuka honey,
    niacinamide and olive squalane. It is the same product format, a cream rather than
    a serum, which makes it the fair thing to compare against here. In the interest of
    the same scrutiny we just applied to Protini: Evil Goods does not publish a copper
    concentration for ours, so we cannot tell you how much is in there any more than
    Drunk Elephant can tell you about its nine peptides. Ingredient Desk is published
    by the team behind Evil Goods, so read our comparisons knowing that.

    What about the clinical study on the box, and the last ingredient?

    Drunk Elephant’s marketing cites a study: 31 people, eight weeks, with
    high percentages reporting improvement in tone, texture and hydration. A couple of
    points are worth knowing before you weigh those numbers. It does not appear to be
    peer-reviewed — no published paper turns up — and at 31 participants
    with no control arm described, it is the kind of small brand-commissioned consumer
    panel that is prone to the assessment bias these trials are known for. That does
    not make it invalid; it simply cannot be verified, so treat the figures as
    in-house marketing data rather than independent evidence.

    One last note for the completists. The final ingredient on the list is Symphytum
    Officinale Callus Culture Extract — comfrey, but specifically the plant-cell
    callus culture form, which is produced to minimize the pyrrolizidine alkaloids
    that are the usual concern with comfrey root and leaf. At the very bottom of a
    long list, present in trace amount, in the callus form: there is nothing
    here to raise an eyebrow at. We mention it only because a reader scanning the
    label for “comfrey” deserves to know which comfrey it is.

    So is it worth it?

    On its own terms, Protini is a more honest label than most we read. The nine
    peptides are real and mid-list, not buried. Two of them are genuinely
    well-supported. The open questions are the five growth-factor analogs, whose
    cosmetic activity the research does not yet back; the ten amino acids counted
    toward the peptide story that are not peptides; and a copper peptide that is the
    newer, less-studied cousin of the classic one. If you like the texture and go in
    understanding that “nine signal peptides” is a mixed bag rather than
    nine proven actives, it is a defensible cream at its price. Just read it as what
    the label says, not what the front of the jar implies.

    FAQ

    Where do the peptides sit in Drunk Elephant Protini?
    The nine marketed signal peptides run from position #10 to #18 in one block,
    below eight ingredients that are not peptides. That is mid-list — not buried,
    but not the top of the label either.

    Are the amino acids in Protini the same as the peptides?
    No. Positions #19 through #28 are ten individual amino acids. An amino acid is a
    single building block; a peptide is two or more of them bonded together. Free
    amino acids are cheap humectants, not the signal peptides the product is named
    for.

    Does Protini have the copper peptide with the most research?
    Not the classic one. It contains Copper Palmitoyl Heptapeptide-14 at #15, a newer
    oil-soluble variant, rather than Copper Tripeptide-1 (GHK-Cu), which has the
    longer, decades-deep research record.

    Is the clinical study on Protini reliable?
    It is a 31-person, eight-week brand-commissioned panel with no control arm
    described and no peer-reviewed publication found. Treat the percentages as
    in-house marketing data rather than independent evidence.

    Do topical growth-factor peptides actually work?
    A systematic review of the category found modest, inconsistent improvements in
    texture and fine lines, with weak placebo controls across studies. For the
    cosmetic-grade EGF analog specifically, a 2023 review concluded its functional
    bioactivity has not been demonstrated.

    Nib closes a small notebook titled Ingredient Desk, sets the magnifying glass down beside the fully-read jar, and gives a satisfied nod.
    Label read, top to bottom. The peptides are real and mid-list. What is unproven is what each one does.

  • Olay Vitamin C + Peptide 24 Serum: The Vitamin C Is the 7th Ingredient

    On the label of the Olay Vitamin C +
    Peptide 24 Brightening Serum, the vitamin C — printed as 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic
    Acid, a derivative that has to convert to active ascorbic acid inside the skin
    — is the seventh ingredient. Niacinamide, the well-studied brightener Olay
    built its Regenerist line on, is the fourth. Niacinamide is not named anywhere in
    the product title.

    “Vitamin C serum” is one of the most-searched things in skincare, and Olay is
    one of the biggest drugstore brands in the United States, so a serum called
    Vitamin C + Peptide 24 is doing a lot of work with its name. The name
    invites exactly one thing: read the label all the way down and see where the two
    named actives on the front — the vitamin C and the peptide — actually
    land.

    Pencil sketch of Nib, a small round creature, holding a magnifying glass up to a slim serum bottle labelled VITAMIN C + PEPTIDE 24.
    Nib picks up the bottle with two actives on the front and starts reading at ingredient one.

    Where does the vitamin C actually sit?

    Here is the full ingredient list, as published on INCI Decoder
    (product entry,
    uploaded 2022-05-27, read 2026-09-15) and matching separate Amazon retail
    listings for the standard 1.3 fl oz serum:

    Water, Glycerin, Dimethicone, Niacinamide, Lactic Acid,
    Polyacrylate Crosspolymer-6, 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic Acid (Vitamin C),
    Palmitoyl Pentapeptide-4 (Peptide), Panthenol, Trehalose,
    PEG-11 Methyl Ether Dimethicone, Sodium Lactate, Sodium Benzoate, Fragrance.

    Ingredients are listed in descending order of concentration down to the 1%
    threshold, below which a manufacturer may list them in any order (US FDA, 21 CFR
    701.3). Reading from the top, the vitamin C — 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic Acid
    — is number seven, sitting behind water, two humectant/texture agents,
    niacinamide, an exfoliating acid and a thickener. The peptide is number eight.
    Everything above them, except the niacinamide, is solvent, humectant or structure.

    # Ingredient What it is
    1 Water Solvent — the base of the serum
    2 Glycerin Humectant
    3 Dimethicone Silicone — slip and texture
    4 Niacinamide Well-studied brightening and barrier agent — unnamed on the front
    5 Lactic Acid AHA exfoliant / pH adjuster
    6 Polyacrylate Crosspolymer-6 Synthetic thickener
    7 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic Acid The “Vitamin C” on the label — a derivative
    8 Palmitoyl Pentapeptide-4 The “Peptide 24” — also known as Matrixyl
    14 Fragrance Perfuming — a documented contact allergen

    None of this is hidden. It is printed on the side of every bottle. But the
    front and the back tell slightly different stories, and the back is the one that
    governs what your skin meets first.

    Pencil sketch of Nib tapping a pencil on the seventh line of a numbered ingredient list, where the words VITAMIN C are circled.
    Seven lines down, past niacinamide and a thickener, Nib finds the named vitamin C.

    Is 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic Acid the same as vitamin C?

    Not quite, and this is the part that makes the label genuinely interesting
    rather than just underwhelming. Pure vitamin C is L-ascorbic acid. What is in
    this serum is 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic Acid, an ether derivative — a more stable
    molecule that the skin has to convert back into ascorbic acid before it does the
    vitamin-C job. A 2024 review in Pharmaceutics
    (Stamford-style derivative review, 2024)
    states plainly that vitamin C derivatives “must be converted to ascorbic acid
    in vivo in order to be effective.”

    The derivative does reach the skin: an in-vitro study on porcine skin
    (Int. J. Cosmet. Sci., 2019)
    confirms 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic Acid penetrates. So this is not a case of an
    ingredient that does nothing. The honest framing is narrower than that: the
    molecule on the label is a derivative that needs converting, Olay does not
    publish how much of it is in the bottle, and its position at #7 —
    just below a thickener, and behind five other ingredients — suggests it is
    not present at a dominant percentage. How much active ascorbic acid results after
    conversion is not disclosed.

    Pencil sketch of Nib holding two small jars side by side, one labelled DERIVATIVE and one labelled ASCORBIC ACID, with a small arrow drawn between them.
    A derivative up front, active vitamin C only after the skin converts it. Nib keeps the two straight.

    What is doing the brightening work, then?

    If you are buying this serum to fade dark spots, the ingredient with the
    strongest evidence for that job is not the one on the front of the bottle. It is
    niacinamide, at position #4 — above both named actives. Niacinamide’s
    brightening evidence is unusually good for a cosmetic ingredient: a split-face
    randomised trial
    (Hakozaki et al., Br. J. Dermatology, 2002)
    found 5% niacinamide significantly reduced hyperpigmented area versus vehicle
    after 4 and 8 weeks. A later mechanistic review
    (Int. J. Mol. Sci., 2021)
    notes it works at roughly 4–5% but that 2% is not reliably effective.

    We cannot read a percentage off an INCI list, and Olay does not publish one.
    But niacinamide at #4 — ahead of the exfoliant, the thickener and both
    named heroes — is consistent with a meaningful level, and it is the same
    brightener Olay’s Regenerist patents are built around. The peptide,
    Palmitoyl Pentapeptide-4 (Matrixyl), is a legitimately studied anti-ageing
    peptide, though mostly in small studies; at #8 it is present in a low
    position on the list. The upshot: the serum’s most evidence-backed brightening ingredient is
    the one the name never mentions, and the two ingredients the name is built around
    sit seventh and eighth.

    Pencil sketch of Nib weighing a small vitamin C bottle against a larger jar labelled NIACINAMIDE on an old balance scale, the niacinamide side dipping lower.
    Nib weighs the named actives against the unnamed niacinamide sitting three lines above them.

    So what does the “24” mean?

    Not an ingredient count, not 24% vitamin C, and not a peptide
    variant. Olay’s own product copy says the serum delivers “24-hour hydration,” so
    the number refers to how long the marketing says it moisturizes, not to anything
    about the actives. It is a hydration claim wearing the costume of a
    concentration figure — and the meanings people most reasonably assume —
    a strength, or how many things are in the bottle — are exactly what it does
    not signal.

    Reading a peptide as “#8 on the list” is really a question about formulation
    priority: what did the formulator decide to put the most of? Here the answer is
    water, glycerin, silicone and niacinamide, and then the things on the front of
    the bottle. If you would rather buy a serum whose hero ingredient sits at the top
    of its own list, that is the thing we make: our
    Copper Peptide Blue Honey Serum
    leads with copper peptides, hyaluronic acid and Manuka honey rather than
    silicone and thickener. (Disclosure: Ingredient Desk is published by the team
    behind Evil Goods, and that is our serum.)

    Is there anything on the label worth watching for?

    Two points, stated with their real strength rather than as alarms.

    Fragrance. Fragrance is the last ingredient, #14.
    Fragrance is a category, not a single molecule, and US labels are not required to
    break it into its component allergens. It is also among the most common contact
    allergens in cosmetics; a 2024 patch-test review
    (Lynde & Lindberg, 2024)
    puts fragrance contact-allergy prevalence at roughly 4.5% of the general
    population and higher among people already prone to dermatitis. Most
    people use fragranced serums without any trouble — but if you are shopping
    for a face serum precisely because your skin reacts easily, an added fragrance is
    worth knowing sits in the formula.

    The derivative itself. One case report of allergic contact
    dermatitis to 3-O-Ethyl Ascorbic Acid exists in the literature (Yagami et al.,
    Contact Dermatitis, 2014). A single case is not a pattern and should not
    be read as one; it is worth a sentence only because the ingredient is the named
    hero. If a new active irritates you, patch-testing a small area first is the
    ordinary sensible move with any serum.

    If you want the reasoning rather than the pitch, we have also written up
    how to build a copper peptide serum routine,
    which walks through what “hero ingredient first” actually buys you and where it
    does not matter.

    The short version

    Olay’s Vitamin C + Peptide 24 Serum names two actives on the front and lists
    them seventh and eighth. The vitamin C is a derivative that has to convert in the
    skin, at an undisclosed and probably modest level. The ingredient with the best
    brightening evidence — niacinamide — sits three lines higher and is
    not named at all. The “24” is a hydration-duration claim, not a strength. None of
    that is hidden; it is all on the label, in descending order, waiting to be read.

    Pencil sketch of Nib closing a notebook, the serum bottle set down beside a page reading number 7, satisfied at having read the label to the end.
    Label read to the last line. Nib closes the notebook: the front said two, the list said seventh and eighth.

  • Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Formula: The Cocoa Butter Is the 9th Ingredient

    On the label of Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Formula
    Moisturizing Body Lotion, cocoa butter — the ingredient the product is
    named after — is the ninth item on the list. Ahead of it sit petrolatum,
    mineral oil, and coconut oil. A cocoa extract appears at position two,
    but that is the antioxidant fraction, not the thick butter people picture.

    This is one of the best-known drugstore body lotions in the United States,
    stocked across major drugstores and big-box chains nationwide, and its selling point is right
    there in the name. So it is worth doing the one thing the name invites: reading
    the label all the way down and finding where the cocoa butter actually lands.

    Pencil sketch of Nib, a small round creature, holding a magnifying glass up to a tall lotion bottle labelled COCOA BUTTER.
    Nib picks up the bottle everyone recognises and starts at ingredient one.

    Where does the cocoa butter actually sit?

    Here is the full ingredient list as published on INCI Decoder
    (product entry,
    uploaded 2021-01-13, read 2026-09-14):

    Water (Aqua), Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Extract, Glyceryl Stearate, Petrolatum, Propylene Glycol, Glycerin, Cocos Nucifera (Coconut) Oil, Mineral Oil (Paraffinum Liquidum), Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Seed Butter, Elaeis Guineensis (Palm) Oil, Cetyl Alcohol, Dimethicone, Tocopherol, Helianthus Annuus (Sunflower) Seed Oil, Hydroxyethylcellulose, PEG-8 Stearate, Behentrimonium Methosulfate, Butylene Glycol, Stearalkonium Chloride, Cellulose, Sodium Acetate, Fragrance (Parfum), Dimethyl Stearamine, Phenoxyethanol, Sorbic Acid, Benzoic Acid, Stearyl Alcohol, Myristyl Alcohol, Yellow 5 (Ci19140), Orange 4 (Ci15510), Benzyl Alcohol

    Thirty-one entries in all. Ingredients are listed in descending order of
    concentration down to the 1% threshold, below which a manufacturer may list them
    in any order (US FDA, 21 CFR 701.3). Reading from the top, the cocoa butter
    — Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Seed Butter — is number nine.
    Everything in bold is the same thing the front of the bottle is selling.

    # Ingredient What it is
    1 Water (Aqua) Solvent — the base of the lotion
    2 Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Extract Cocoa extract (antioxidant fraction), not the butter
    3 Glyceryl Stearate Emulsifier / emollient
    4 Petrolatum Petroleum jelly — occlusive
    5 Propylene Glycol Humectant / solvent
    6 Glycerin Humectant
    7 Cocos Nucifera (Coconut) Oil Coconut oil — a different plant
    8 Mineral Oil (Paraffinum Liquidum) Petroleum-derived emollient
    9 Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Seed Butter The cocoa butter the product is named after
    22 Fragrance (Parfum) Perfuming — a documented contact allergen

    None of this is hidden. It is printed on the side of every bottle. But the
    front of the bottle and the back of the bottle tell slightly different stories,
    and the back is the one that governs what your skin meets first.

    Pencil sketch of Nib pointing a pencil at a long numbered ingredient list, tapping the ninth line where the word BUTTER is circled.
    Nine lines down, past three oils and a petroleum jelly, Nib finds the actual butter.

    Isn’t the cocoa at position two? What’s the difference?

    This is the twist that makes the label interesting rather than just
    underwhelming. There is a cocoa ingredient near the top: Theobroma
    Cacao (Cocoa) Extract     at position two. But an extract and a seed butter are
    not the same material. The butter is the fatty, emollient part — the solid
    you can scoop and melt. The extract is the polyphenol-and-antioxidant fraction,
    a functional additive usually present at a small fraction of a percent.

    Because that extract sits above the 1% line only nominally — INCI order
    cannot tell us the exact figure, and Palmer’s does not publish concentrations
    — the honest read is: the label carries two kinds of “cocoa,” and the one
    doing the moisturizing job the product is sold on is the ninth ingredient, not
    the second. Palmer’s own page describes the lotion as
    “crafted with intensively
    moisturizing Cocoa Butter and Vitamin E    .” Vitamin E (Tocopherol) is
    ingredient 13.

    Pencil sketch of Nib holding up two small jars side by side, one labelled EXTRACT and one labelled BUTTER, looking puzzled at the difference.
    Two cocoas on one label: an extract up top, the butter far below. Nib keeps them straight.

    What’s actually doing the moisturizing, then?

    If cocoa butter is ninth, the heavy lifting is done by what sits above it.
    The two most effective occlusives in this formula are petrolatum (#4) and
    mineral oil (#8). Petrolatum is not a mark against the lotion — a 2024
    review in the Journal of the American Academy of Dermatology
    (Kamrani et al., 2024)
    describes petroleum jelly as a long-established moisturizer with a strong safety
    record and dispels the common belief that it clogs pores. If anything, it is one
    of the better-evidenced things in the bottle.

    The point is not that the formula fails to moisturize. It is that the
    ingredient responsible for the name is doing less of the work than the marketing
    implies, and the ingredients doing most of the work are ones the front of the
    bottle never mentions. If you specifically want a cocoa-butter-led product, this
    label does not describe one.

    If you have read this far because you would rather buy a moisturizer built
    around its fatty ingredient than around petrolatum and mineral oil, that is the
    thing we make: our
    Whipped Tallow & Manuka
    Honey moisturizer     is grass-fed tallow, Manuka honey and olive oil, with no
    petroleum derivatives in it. (Disclosure: Ingredient Desk is published by
    the team behind Evil Goods, and that is our product.)     We have also written
    up
    how tallow compares to
    a conventional lotion base     if you want the reasoning rather than the pitch.

    Pencil sketch of Nib pouring a thick ribbon of butter from a small tub, weighing it against a large blob of petroleum jelly on an old balance scale.
    Nib weighs the named ingredient against the ones actually doing the occluding.

    Is there anything on the label worth watching for?

    A couple of points, stated with their real strength rather than as alarms.

    Fragrance. Fragrance (Parfum) is ingredient 22.
    Fragrance is a documented contact allergen: a 2024 patch-test review
    (Lynde & Lindberg, 2024)
    puts fragrance contact-allergy prevalence at roughly 4.5% of the general
    European population and higher among people already prone to dermatitis. That
    does not mean this lotion will bother you — most people wear fragranced
    products without incident — but if you are buying a body lotion precisely
    because your skin is reactive, an added fragrance is worth knowing about. (US
    labels are not required to break fragrance into its component allergens; EU rules
    require disclosure of a defined set, so a European version of a similar product
    would list more detail.)

    Comedogenicity of cocoa butter. Cocoa seed butter carries a
    comedogenicity rating of 4 out of 5 in older dermatology literature
    (Fulton et al., 1984) —
    one of the higher ratings among common emollients. But a later re-evaluation
    (Draelos & DiNardo,
    2006    ) argues that a single ingredient’s rabbit-ear score does not reliably
    predict how a finished formula behaves on human skin. Since the cocoa butter
    here is at position nine, its concentration is likely modest, so the risk from
    this formula is probably lower than from a pure cocoa butter. If you are
    acne-prone and considering this for your face, that is the nuance to hold in
    mind — not a verdict either way.

    The short version

    Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Formula is a competent, inexpensive drugstore lotion.
    It just is not, by the evidence of its own label, a cocoa-butter-led
    one. The name points at ingredient nine; the formula is led by water,
    petrolatum, humectants, coconut oil and mineral oil. Knowing that does not make
    it a bad product — it makes it a differently described one.

    Frequently asked questions

    Where is cocoa butter in Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Formula lotion?
    Cocoa seed butter is the 9th ingredient on the INCI list (source: INCI
    Decoder, read 2026-09-14). Petrolatum, coconut oil and mineral oil are all
    listed ahead of it.
    What is the cocoa “extract” at position two?
    It is Theobroma Cacao (Cocoa) Extract, the antioxidant/polyphenol
    fraction of cocoa — not the fatty seed butter. INCI order suggests it is
    present at a small percentage; Palmer’s does not publish exact concentrations.
    Is cocoa butter comedogenic?
    Cocoa butter as a single ingredient scores 4/5 for comedogenicity in 1984
    literature (Fulton et al.), but a 2006 re-evaluation (Draelos & DiNardo)
    notes single-ingredient scores don’t reliably predict finished-formula behaviour.
    At position nine, its concentration in this lotion is likely modest.
    Does the lotion contain fragrance?
    Yes — Fragrance (Parfum) is ingredient 22. Fragrance is a documented
    contact allergen (about 4.5% general-population prevalence in a 2024 review),
    worth noting if your skin is reactive.

    Ingredient list quoted verbatim from INCI Decoder
    (uploaded 2021-01-13, read 2026-09-14). INCI Decoder is a cosmetic-community
    database, not an official retailer listing; Palmer’s reformulates periodically,
    and the current physical label is the authority. Ingredient Desk is published by
    the team behind Evil Goods.

    Pencil sketch of Nib sitting on top of the closed lotion bottle, pencil behind one ear, giving a small satisfied nod at the finished ingredient list.
    Label read, cocoa butter located: ninth. Nib closes the notebook.