Ingredient Desk

Tag: INCI

  • 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.

  • Schmidt’s Charcoal + Magnesium: Charcoal Is the Last Ingredient

    On the label EWG recorded from the packaging of Schmidt’s Signature Charcoal & Magnesium deodorant (data dated February 2024), charcoal powder is the very last ingredient — number 13 of 13. Magnesium hydroxide is number 1. Both names are on the front of the stick, but only one of them is present at a meaningful amount. The ingredient doing most of the deodorising work, by label position, is one Schmidt’s doesn’t put in the name at all: baking soda, at number 6.

    Schmidt’s is one of the most widely stocked “natural” deodorants in American retail — it’s on shelves in the big drug and grocery chains and near the top of the aluminum-free category online. Its whole pitch is right there on the front of the pack: Charcoal + Magnesium. Two named actives, both fashionable, both easy to picture doing something. So it’s a good one to actually read.

    We did what the desk always does: found the real INCI list — the full one on the back, not the two words on the front — quoted it verbatim, and located each marketed hero on it. Here is where those two words actually sit.

    Nib running a pencil down a long INCI list, tapping the very last line where it reads charcoal powder.
    Reading top to bottom: magnesium first, and charcoal all the way down at the bottom.

    What is on the Schmidt’s Signature label, in order?

    Here is the list as EWG’s Skin Deep database recorded it “from packaging,” with data dated February 2024, corroborated line-for-line by a grocery retailer’s product listing. INCI lists are ordered by weight down to 1%, so position is a rough proxy for how much of each thing is in the stick. Thirteen positions on the main list:

    1. Magnesium Hydroxide
    2. Cocos Nucifera Oil (coconut oil)
    3. Maranta Arundinacea Powder (arrowroot)
    4. Butyrospermum Parkii Butter (shea butter)
    5. Caprylic/Capric Triglyceride (fractionated coconut oil)
    6. Sodium Bicarbonate (baking soda)
    7. Euphorbia Cerifera Wax (candelilla wax)
    8. Simmondsia Chinensis Esters (jojoba)
    9. Fragrance (Parfum) (Natural Fragrance)
    10. Tocopherol (vitamin E, sunflower-derived)
    11. Beta-Sitosterol (sunflower-derived)
    12. Squalene (sunflower-derived)
    13. Charcoal Powder

    After that come eight fragrance-allergen names — Amyl Cinnamal, Benzyl Salicylate, Citral, Citronellol, Geraniol, Hydroxycitronellal, Limonene and Linalool — labelled as naturally occurring components of the essential oils, not separate ingredients by volume.

    One honest caveat up front: we could not put a physical stick under the magnifying glass for this one. Every ingredient list here is secondary. EWG is the strongest of them because it is explicitly “from packaging” and recently dated, and it matched a grocery listing exactly, but the desk’s gold standard is always a label in hand. Treat the positions below as sourced and dated, not as something we read off the pack ourselves. There is also an older, differently ordered formula floating around (see the last section), so the stick you own may not read like this one.

    Nib weighing a heavy scoop of magnesium hydroxide in one hand against a tiny speck of charcoal in the other.
    One hero weighs a lot. The other is a speck at the end of the line.

    Where do charcoal and magnesium actually sit?

    This is the whole story in two lines. Magnesium hydroxide is genuinely first — that half of the name is supportable. Charcoal powder is dead last, the thirteenth of thirteen, present in less quantity than everything else on the list including the vitamin E and its trace sunflower-derived cousins.

    Magnesium Hydroxide — position 1
    The primary ingredient by weight. It’s a low-solubility alkaline powder that raises local skin pH, which is the mechanism “natural” deodorants lean on to make the skin surface less hospitable to the bacteria that turn sweat into odor. As deodorising actives go, this one earning top billing is fair.
    Charcoal Powder — position 13 (last)
    The other word on the front, and the least abundant thing in the stick. It shares the name with the product; it does not share the front of the ingredient list.
    Sodium Bicarbonate (baking soda) — position 6
    Not named on the front at all, sitting mid-list. In the older formula (below) it’s much higher. It’s the ingredient with the most documented skin-tolerance discussion of anything in the stick — and it’s the one the marketing is quietest about.

    So the front of the pack sells you two heroes. One of them is real. The other is a trace. That’s not unusual and it isn’t against any rule — a front-of-pack name only has to appear somewhere on the label — but it’s exactly the gap this desk exists to point at.

    Nib squinting at a mid-list line marked baking soda, eyebrow raised, pencil hovering.
    The quiet workhorse nobody put on the front: sodium bicarbonate, sitting at number six.

    Does charcoal do anything in a leave-on stick?

    Here the honest answer is: the evidence is thin, and it’s thinner still for this format. Most of charcoal’s reputation comes from rinse-off products, where it adsorbs oils and is then washed away. A deodorant stick is leave-on — the charcoal stays put on the skin. Whether that does anything useful for odor over a day is not something the published literature settles.

    A 2020 dermatology review in Clinics in Dermatology (PubMed) put it bluntly: brands attach the usual skincare promises to charcoal — clearer skin, fewer breakouts and the rest — but the review concludes “clinical evidence does not support these claims.” A 2021 review in the International Journal of Community Medicine and Public Health (read it here) reached the same place — “little to no clinical evidence” behind cosmetic charcoal claims. None of that means charcoal is a problem to have in the formula. It means the word on the front of a leave-on deodorant is carrying more marketing weight than its position — or the science — supports.

    Nib the ingredient-desk creature holding a Schmidt's Charcoal + Magnesium deodorant stick up to a magnifying glass, peering at the tiny back label.
    Nib turns the pack over. The front says Charcoal + Magnesium; the label has other ideas.

    What about the baking soda nobody put on the front?

    The ingredient with the most real-world tolerance conversation around it isn’t either named hero — it’s the sodium bicarbonate at position 6. Baking soda is alkaline, and underarm skin is often freshly shaved, so it’s a common thing people report reacting to.

    The nuance matters, and the formal data cuts against the internet’s louder version. The Cosmetic Ingredient Review’s safety assessment of sodium carbonates (PDF) concludes that sodium bicarbonate specifically is not a primary skin irritant at the dilute concentrations tested. But a 2024 review in the Journal of Integrative Dermatology (“Baking Soda and the Skin”) notes that case reports of local irritation do exist with topical baking soda used in excess, and that “the exact safe concentration for topical use is not clear.” A deodorant stick is not a diluted lab sample — and that gap between the lab number and daily use on shaved skin is where the user complaints tend to live. Worth knowing which formula you have, because the older one puts far more baking soda in the stick.

    Is there a version without the baking soda?

    If baking soda is the thing you’re trying to avoid, the useful move is to read for it directly rather than trust a front-of-pack word. Some “natural” deodorants are built around it; others leave it out and lean on other ingredients. Our own Evil Goods Tallow Deodorant — and yes, this site is published by the team behind Evil Goods, so weigh that accordingly — is a tallow-based, aluminum-free option; read its ingredient list the same way you’d read Schmidt’s and decide for yourself. The point of this desk isn’t “buy ours,” it’s “turn the pack over first.”

    Why does Schmidt’s own website list magnesium first?

    Because a brand’s website and a regulatory label are two different documents. Schmidt’s product page presents ingredients in a story order that opens on the hero names to match the product title — that’s an editorial choice, not the INCI order. The INCI list, ordered by weight, is the one on the back of the physical pack. When the two disagree, the back of the pack is the document that’s regulated.

    One caveat: there is more than one formula out there

    An older ingredient order, uploaded to Incidecoder in 2020, reads differently: arrowroot first, coconut oil second, baking soda fourth, with magnesium and charcoal both down in the tail (magnesium around 8th, charcoal 9th of 11). That predates the “Signature” reformulation and may be a discontinued SKU, so treat it as history rather than the current stick. Either way, the two named heroes have never both been near the top of the list, and the honest test is the same: read the panel on the stick in your hand.

    Frequently asked questions

    Where does charcoal sit on the Schmidt’s Charcoal + Magnesium label?
    On the Signature formula EWG recorded from packaging (February 2024), charcoal powder is in the last position on the label — the thirteenth and final line, the least abundant thing in the stick.

    Is the magnesium claim accurate?
    On that same list, magnesium hydroxide is the first ingredient by weight, so the “magnesium” half of the name is supportable. The “charcoal” half sits at the very bottom.

    Does charcoal deodorise in a leave-on stick?
    The published evidence is weak, and mostly comes from rinse-off products. Dermatology reviews say clinical evidence doesn’t support charcoal’s cosmetic claims generally, and the rinse-off mechanism doesn’t transfer cleanly to a stick that stays on the skin.

    Does Schmidt’s contain baking soda?
    Yes. Sodium bicarbonate is at position 6 on the Signature list and higher on the older formula, even though it isn’t named on the front. It’s the ingredient with the most documented skin-tolerance discussion in the stick.

    Why doesn’t the website order match the label?
    The website uses a brand-story order that opens on the hero names; the regulatory INCI list on the back of the pack is ordered by weight. They are different documents, and the label is the one that’s regulated.

    Nib setting down the magnifying glass, holding up the ingredient list with a satisfied look, having read the part everyone skips.
    The desk’s whole job: read the line at the bottom, not the word on the front.

  • Cetaphil Moisturizing Cream: Niacinamide Is the 11th Ingredient

    Cetaphil rebuilt its Moisturizing Cream in 2021 and now leads every ad with niacinamide. On the label, niacinamide is the 11th name on a list that runs to twenty-three — sitting after the emulsifiers, the silicones and a fatty alcohol. The pair doing the actual moisturizing, glycerin and petrolatum, are second and third, and they did not change. So the new formula is largely the old workhorse with a niacinamide story wrapped around it.

    Cetaphil is one of the three creams US dermatologists name most often for dry skin, alongside CeraVe and Vanicream. The Moisturizing Cream is its flagship tub. In 2021 the brand reformulated it: out went the parabens, in came niacinamide, panthenol and sweet almond oil. Every piece of marketing now opens with “a dermatologist-backed blend of niacinamide.” The label tells a slightly different story about where that niacinamide falls in line — and it is worth reading in order.

    A disclosure before we go on: Ingredient Desk is published by the team behind Evil Goods, a tallow skincare brand. We read labels for a living and we sell an alternative for dry skin. We will point at ours once, clearly labelled, near the end. Everything about Cetaphil below comes from Cetaphil’s own US page, a retail listing, and the peer-reviewed literature — dated and linked so you can check us.

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass up to an oversized tub of moisturizing cream, squinting at the tiny ingredient list running down the side of the jar.
    Nib does the thing most of us skip at the shelf: reads the whole list, in order.

    What does the Cetaphil Moisturizing Cream label actually say?

    Here is the full ingredient list, quoted verbatim from Cetaphil’s own US product page (cetaphil.com, read 11 September 2026). The same list, in the same order, appears on the Ulta retail listing:

    Water, Glycerin, Petrolatum, Dicaprylyl Ether, Dimethicone, Glyceryl Stearate, Cetyl Alcohol, Helianthus Annuus (Sunflower) Seed Oil, Peg-30 Stearate, Panthenol, Niacinamide, Prunus Amygdalus Dulcis (Sweet Almond) Oil, Tocopheryl Acetate, Pantolactone, Dimethiconol, Acrylates/C10-30 Alkyl Acrylate Crosspolymer, Carbomer, Propylene Glycol, Disodium Edta, Benzyl Alcohol, Phenoxyethanol, Sodium Hydroxide, Citric Acid

    Ingredient lists are ordered by descending concentration down to roughly 1%, after which the order stops meaning much. Cetaphil’s page notes that formulas are updated and asks you to check the physical package, so treat this as the list on the brand’s US site on the date above rather than an eternal truth. This is the current, post-2021, paraben-free formula; the number on your own tub is the only source that settles what is in it today.

    Nib stands beside a tall pencil-drawn bar chart; the three tallest bars near the front are labelled water, glycerin and petrolatum, while a small bar labelled niacinamide sits far back in eleventh place.
    The first three entries build the cream. Niacinamide, the ingredient on the front of the box, arrives in eleventh.

    Where does the niacinamide actually sit?

    Niacinamide is name number eleven, on a list that ends at twenty-three. In front of it are water, glycerin, petrolatum, an emollient ether, the silicones, an emulsifier, a fatty alcohol, a seed oil, another emulsifier (PEG-30 stearate, typically used at roughly 1–3%), and panthenol. In other words, the lead marketing ingredient falls into the second half of the formula, just behind an emulsifier that itself sits at a low single-digit percentage.

    Cetaphil does not disclose the niacinamide concentration, and we are not going to invent one. What position #11 tells you is only this: it is below the ingredients ahead of it, one of which is used at about 1–3%. The independent clinical literature on niacinamide clusters its measured effects at 2–5%. A 2006 study in the Journal of Cosmetic and Laser Therapy (Draelos et al., PMID 16766489) tested 2% on facial sebum; a 2000 paper in the British Journal of Dermatology (Tanno et al., PMID 10971324) showed nicotinamide raising ceramide biosynthesis in skin at similar concentrations. Whether Cetaphil’s cream lands inside that window is not something the label lets you know. The inference is yours to draw; we will not put a number on it that the brand itself declines to.

    Nib peers through the magnifying glass at a single small jar labelled niacinamide, a question mark drawn above it, with a faint percent sign scribbled out beside the jar.
    Present, yes. At what percentage? The label does not say, so neither do we.

    So what is actually moisturizing your skin?

    The answer is in the first three lines. Glycerin at #2 is a humectant — it pulls water toward the skin. Petrolatum at #3 is the occlusive that seals it in. That pairing is the whole of the cream’s long-hydration story, and it is worth being precise about petrolatum, because “petroleum byproduct” alarms people more than the evidence justifies.

    Petrolatum is an FDA-recognized OTC skin protectant (21 CFR § 347.10), permitted as an active at 30–100% in that category. In Cetaphil’s cream it is listed as a cosmetic ingredient rather than a labelled active, but the regulatory grounding for what it does is well established, and it is one of the best-evidenced barrier ingredients in dermatology. Crucially, glycerin and petrolatum sat at the top of the pre-2021 formula too. The reformulation added niacinamide, panthenol, sweet almond oil and vitamin E on top of a chassis that was already a competent dry-skin moisturizer. The new box is not a new cream so much as a new narrative around the same opening entries — which is not a criticism of the cream, only of reading the front of the box instead of the side.

    Nib sits cross-legged reading a long unfurled ingredient scroll, nodding approvingly at the top three lines while the lower entries trail off the edge of the paper.
    The top of the list is doing the work. It is the same top of the list it had before the relaunch.

    Is there anything a “sensitive skin” buyer should note?

    One entry is worth a calm mention. Propylene glycol appears at position #18 — a humectant and solvent, present here at a low concentration given where it falls in the list. It is worth flagging only because this cream is marketed as hypoallergenic and for sensitive skin, and propylene glycol has a documented, if modest, contact-allergy rate. It is a well-characterised skin sensitiser reviewed in the dermatology literature (Dermatitis, 2018, PMID 29059092), with cosmetics the most common exposure route. A low position reduces that risk; it does not erase it. This is not a claim that the product harms anyone — most people use propylene glycol formulas with no trouble at all — only a note that a sensitiser with a known patch-test signal is on the list of a product sold specifically to sensitive skin.

    What the formula does not contain is also worth a line. There are no ceramides and no hyaluronic acid, the pair that define its shelf-neighbours CeraVe and Neutrogena Hydro Boost. Cetaphil’s barrier support comes from petrolatum and glycerin instead, with niacinamide potentially assisting at whatever level it is present. That is a legitimate approach with strong evidence — it is simply a different one from what the packaging’s ingredient-forward language implies.

    What should you actually take from the label?

    Read the order, not the front. On this tub, the entries you can be confident are doing the heavy lifting — glycerin and petrolatum — are second and third, and they are the same ones the cream had before its 2021 relaunch. The niacinamide the marketing leads with is eleventh, at a percentage the brand does not disclose and the label cannot confirm sits in niacinamide’s evidenced range. None of that makes it a bad cream. It makes it a petrolatum-and-glycerin cream with a niacinamide label.

    If you are here because your dry skin wants an occlusive that seals moisture in and you would rather it come from an animal fat than a petroleum derivative, that is the whole argument behind our own tallow for dry skin — grass-fed beef tallow, which is naturally rich in the fatty acids skin uses. We are not going to tell you it out-performs petrolatum in a trial, because that trial is not ours to cite. We will tell you honestly that it is a different occlusive with a much shorter research record, and let you weigh that against a cream whose active backbone is a well-studied petroleum jelly.

    Frequently asked questions

    Where is niacinamide on the Cetaphil Moisturizing Cream ingredient list? It is the 11th name on the list, which runs to twenty-three, after water, glycerin, petrolatum, an emollient ether, the silicones, an emulsifier, a fatty alcohol, a seed oil, a second emulsifier and panthenol.

    Did Cetaphil change the formula? Yes. In 2021 the brand removed parabens and added niacinamide, panthenol, sweet almond oil and vitamin E. Glycerin and petrolatum, the top of the list, were unchanged.

    What is the strongest moisturizer in the formula? By position, glycerin (#2, a humectant) and petrolatum (#3, an occlusive). Petrolatum is an FDA-recognized OTC skin protectant.

    What percentage is the niacinamide? Cetaphil does not disclose it. Position #11 puts it below an emulsifier typically used at 1–3%; the independent literature clusters niacinamide’s measured effects at 2–5%. The label does not let you confirm where this cream falls.

    Nib closes a small notebook and gives a thumbs-up beside the tub of cream, the ingredient scroll rolled neatly under one arm, satisfied at having read the whole list.
    Read the order, not the front of the box. The label was telling the truth the whole time.

  • Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair: Retinol Is Ingredient #26

    On the label of Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair Retinol Face Moisturizer, retinol — the ingredient the product is named after — appears in position 26 on the list. It sits after the fragrance (#20), after the PTFE (#22) and after a long run of preservatives and thickeners. By the convention that INCI lists run roughly in descending order of concentration, the hero active is one of the last things in the jar.

    This is one of the best-selling retinol moisturizers in American drugstores. Retinol is in the product’s name, on the front of the box, and at the top of every line of marketing copy Neutrogena writes for it. So it is worth reading the one thing the marketing does not put on the front: the full ingredient list, in order.

    What does the label actually say?

    Here is the complete INCI list, quoted verbatim. The order is what matters — cosmetic ingredient lists are required to run in descending order of concentration down to 1%, after which the order is a manufacturer’s choice. The position of an ingredient is therefore a rough floor on how little of it can be present.

    Water, Pentaerythrityl Tetraethylhexanoate, Glycerin, Dimethicone, PPG-15 Stearyl Ether, Stearyl Alcohol, Cetearyl Alcohol, Butylene Glycol, Glyceryl Behenate, Ceteareth-20, Isohexadecane, Cyclopentasiloxane, Dimethicone Crosspolymer, Polyethylene, Sodium Polyacrylate, Phenoxyethanol, Caprylyl Glycol, Sodium Acryloyldimethyltaurate/VP Crosspolymer, Polyacrylamide, Fragrance, C13-14 Isoparaffin, PTFE, Chlorphenesin, Polysorbate 20, Hydrolyzed Myrtus Communis Leaf Extract, Retinol, BHT, Sodium Hyaluronate, Disodium EDTA, Laureth-7, Sodium Hydroxide, Ascorbic Acid

    Sourced from the product’s entry on the ingredient decoder INKEEDecoder (read 10 September 2026), corroborated by the live listing on the retailer’s own product page, which carries the same sequence with a handful of its own spelling slips. Both are third-party transcriptions of the packaging rather than the manufacturer’s own database, so treat the list as the label as sold, not a formula spec. Neutrogena markets this active as “Retinol SA”; that is a branding term, and the INCI simply reads Retinol.

    Nib, a small round creature drawn in loose pencil sketch, holds a large magnifying glass up to a long product ingredient label, squinting to read a word near the very bottom.
    Nib doing the one thing the front of the box never asks you to: reading to the end of the list.

    Where does the retinol actually sit?

    Retinol appears in position 26. To put that in order, here is the back half of the list — the part after the water, the silicones and the emulsifiers have all been named.

    Position Ingredient What it is doing
    20 Fragrance Perfume — a common contact allergen, here ahead of the active
    22 PTFE Polytetrafluoroethylene, the raw material of Teflon; a slip/smoothing agent, no skin-treatment role
    26 Retinol The named hero active
    28 Sodium Hyaluronate The “hyaluronic acid” the box also advertises
    32 Ascorbic Acid Vitamin C, last on the list, present as an antioxidant buffer

    Both of the actives Neutrogena advertises on the front of the box — retinol and hyaluronic acid — appear near the very end of the list, at positions 26 and 28. The fragrance and the PTFE both appear earlier, which is to say in larger quantity. None of that is a secret; it is printed on the carton. It is just printed in the order the marketing would rather you did not read.

    Nib stands beside a tall stack of jars and tubes almost as big as it is, counting on its stubby fingers, a pencil tucked behind where an ear would be.
    Counting down the list to ingredient twenty-six takes a while — which is rather the point.

    How much retinol does a position like that imply?

    Neutrogena does not disclose the retinol concentration in this cream in the US, so the honest answer is that we can only reason from the position. Sitting at position 26, below a long run of ingredients that are themselves used at a fraction of a percent, the retinol is almost certainly present in trace amounts — most likely well under 0.1%.

    Why does 0.1% matter? Because that is roughly where the published evidence starts. In one 2022 in-vivo patch-test study, retinol above 0.1% w/w was where the researchers saw histological remodelling of photoaged skin; 0.1% sat at the threshold and higher concentrations were clearer. A separate 2022 review of topical retinoids notes that retinol at around 0.25% is considered comparable to 0.025% tretinoin, with weaker, dose-dependent effects at lower strengths. This is a small, still-developing evidence base — a handful of studies, not settled fact — but it points one way: below about 0.1%, there is not much to point at.

    For contrast, Neutrogena’s newer Rapid Wrinkle Repair Retinol Renewal Serum — a different product — lists retinol far higher in its formula and states 0.1% in its own retailer Q&A. The classic cream analysed here is the one most people have in their bathroom, and it is the one where the active sits at the bottom.

    Nib peers at a measuring beaker holding a single tiny drop, drawn in sketchy pencil lines, one eyebrow raised in mild disbelief.
    A position near the end of a 32-item list is a rough floor on how little can be in the jar.

    Is fragrance before retinol a problem?

    It is at least an odd choice in a treatment product. Retinol itself is a known irritant: a 2024 five-day occlusive patch-test study found that retinol produced clinically significant redness resembling mild irritant contact dermatitis in the tested subjects. That study was small — 18 participants, a single population — so read it as a signal, not a verdict. Fragrance is separately one of the most frequently flagged contact allergens in dermatology, which is why treatment-focused formulas often leave it out. Here it appears at #20, ahead of the active, in a product whose whole selling point is an ingredient that can already sting sensitive skin.

    There is also a regulatory footnote worth its own sentence. In 2024 the EU formally capped retinol in face creams at 0.3% and added a mandatory label warning; Commission Regulation 2024/996 applies there from November 2025. That is a European rule and does not apply in the United States, where there is no equivalent FDA concentration limit for OTC retinol in cosmetics. The gap is worth knowing about, not worth overstating.

    Nib holds up two labels side by side, looking back and forth between them, its round body leaning with curiosity rather than anger.
    The interesting question is never ‘is this bad’ but ‘where does the thing on the front actually sit’.

    What would a formula that leads with its active look like?

    The useful comparison is not a good product versus a bad one — it is a formula that buries its hero versus one that puts it near the top. When copper peptides are the point of a product, for instance, copper tripeptide-1 tends to appear high in the list rather than 26th, because there is no reason to advertise an active and then dose it as an afterthought. Our own Copper Peptide Blue Honey Serum (that is an Evil Goods product — this site is published by the Evil Goods team, and we say so openly) is built that way: the named actives sit where you would expect the thing on the front of the bottle to sit. You do not have to take our word for it — the test is the same one we just ran on Neutrogena. Read the list, find the ingredient the product is named after, and see how far down it is.

    That is the whole method, and it works on any jar in your cabinet. The front of the box tells you what a product wants to be about. The ingredient list, read to the end, tells you what it is actually made of.

    Frequently asked questions

    Where is retinol on the Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair moisturizer label?
    Retinol appears in position 26, after the fragrance (#20) and the PTFE (#22), based on the INCI as transcribed by INKEEDecoder and corroborated by the retailer listing (both read 10 September 2026).
    Does that mean the cream contains almost no retinol?
    It implies a low concentration — position is only a rough floor, and Neutrogena does not disclose the exact figure for this cream in the US. A position that far down is consistent with a trace amount, most likely under the ~0.1% where the published evidence begins.
    Is a low-retinol moisturizer useless?
    Not necessarily — it is still a competent moisturizer, and some people prefer a gentle, low dose. The point is narrower: the marketing sells the retinol, and the label puts it near the bottom.
    Is the fragrance a safety issue?
    Fragrance is a common contact allergen and both fragrance and retinol are known irritants, so a treatment product that lists fragrance ahead of its active is a fair thing to notice. Patch-test evidence here is from small studies; individual reactions vary.
    A final wide sketch of Nib sitting cross-legged on top of a closed jar, magnifying glass resting on its knee, giving a small satisfied nod at a completed ingredient list.
    Nib’s rule of thumb: whatever is on the front of the box, go and find it on the back — and see how far down it fell.

  • Crème de la Mer: The Miracle Broth Is Ingredient #1. Water Is Ingredient #24.

    Water is the 24th ingredient in the classic Crème
    de la Mer Moisturizing Cream. The bio-fermented Algae Extract that La Mer calls
    its “Miracle Broth” really is first on the list — the marketing claim holds
    there. What surrounds it is the surprise: the second and third ingredients are
    mineral oil and petrolatum, the same petroleum occlusives that do the heavy
    lifting in a tub of drugstore Vaseline, and water does not turn up until two
    dozen ingredients later.

    Most moisturizers are mostly water. You can usually confirm it in a second:
    “Water/Aqua/Eau” sits at position one on the label, because water is cheap, it
    carries everything else, and it is what makes a cream feel light. Crème de la
    Mer is built the other way around. That single fact tells you almost everything
    about what this cream is and how it works — so it is worth reading the actual
    label instead of the box.

    Here is the full ingredient list, quoted verbatim from the Crème de la Mer
    product page on cremedelamer.com (read 3 September 2026 via the brand page’s
    indexed listing, as the page itself refused a direct request that day) and
    corroborated against an independent
    DermApproved ingredient review:

    Algae Extract, Mineral Oil\Paraffinum Liquidum\Huile Minerale, Petrolatum, Glycerin, Isohexadecane, Microcrystalline Wax\Cera Microcristallina\Cire Microcristalline, Lanolin Alcohol, Citrus Aurantifolia (Lime) Peel Extract, Sesamum Indicum (Sesame) Seed Oil, Eucalyptus Globulus (Eucalyptus) Leaf Oil, Sesamum Indicum (Sesame) Seed Powder, Medicago Sativa (Alfalfa) Seed Powder, Helianthus Annuus (Sunflower) Seedcake, Prunus Amygdalus Dulcis (Sweet Almond) Seed Meal, Sodium Gluconate, Copper Gluconate, Calcium Gluconate, Magnesium Gluconate, Zinc Gluconate, Magnesium Sulfate, Paraffin, Tocopheryl Succinate, Niacin, Water\Aqua\Eau, Beta-Carotene, Decyl Oleate, Aluminum Distearate, Octyldodecanol, Citric Acid, Cyanocobalamin, Magnesium Stearate, Panthenol, Zea Mays (Corn) Oil, Limonene, Geraniol, Linalool, Hydroxycitronellal, Citronellol, Benzyl Salicylate, Benzyl Benzoate, Sodium Benzoate, Alcohol Denat., Fragrance (Parfum)

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass up to a tall jar labelled with a very long ingredient list and squints at the first line.
    Nib starts at the top of the list, where the algae extract genuinely sits.

    Where does the Miracle Broth actually sit?

    Right at the top, which is the honest part of the story. “Algae Extract” —
    La Mer’s bio-fermented sea-kelp “Miracle Broth” — is ingredient number one. On
    an INCI list, ingredients above roughly one percent are ordered by descending
    weight, so being first means it is the single largest component by mass. When a
    brand names a product after its hero ingredient, that ingredient is very often
    buried near the preservatives. Not here. If your only question was “is there
    real algae extract in this, and is there a lot of it,” the label answers yes.

    The honest caveat is about evidence, not presence. Independent analysis of
    whether the Miracle Broth does what the marketing implies is thin. DermApproved
    characterises the clinical evidence for its efficacy as
    “limited” — a fermented kelp broth carrying vitamins and
    minerals, developed by Max Huber in the 1960s, but without much published,
    independent clinical validation of the specific fermentation process. That is a
    fair thing to say out loud: the ingredient is real and abundant, and the case
    for what it does is mostly the brand’s own.

    Nib runs a pencil down the second and third lines of the list and raises an eyebrow at the words mineral oil and petrolatum.
    Two lines down, the base of the cream reveals itself: mineral oil, then petrolatum.

    What is the cream actually made of?

    Read the next two lines and the formula shows its hand. Position two is
    Mineral Oil (listed by its EU name, Paraffinum Liquidum). Position three is
    Petrolatum — petroleum jelly. Together they are the base the algae extract is
    suspended in, and they are the reason the cream feels the way it does.

    These are not obscure ingredients. Petrolatum is, per

    CosmeticsInfo.org    , “used widely in cosmetics as a moisturizer as well as in
    OTC drugs as a skin protectant” — the same category of ingredient that is the
    active in Aquaphor and in a jar of plain petroleum jelly. It works by occlusion:
    it sits on the surface and slows the water your skin already holds from
    evaporating. Mineral oil at position two does much the same job. That is a
    genuinely effective way to keep skin from drying out — there is nothing wrong
    with it. It is simply the same mechanism, and the same family of raw materials,
    that costs a few dollars a tub at any pharmacy.

    Crème de la Mer’s moisturizing base
    Mineral oil (#2) and petrolatum (#3) — petroleum-derived occlusives that
    seal in existing moisture. Retails in the hundreds of dollars.
    A drugstore petroleum jelly
    Petrolatum as the single active occlusive — the same sealing mechanism.
    A few dollars a tub.

    The point is not that La Mer is “just Vaseline.” It is not — there is algae
    extract, a spread of gluconate minerals, sesame and almond meals, vitamins, and
    a fragrance blend layered on top. The point is narrower and more useful: the
    part of this cream that does the actual moisturizing is an occlusive system you
    can buy for the price of a coffee. What the premium buys is everything wrapped
    around that base, plus the name.

    Nib counts down the list on stubby fingers, magnifying glass tucked under one arm, looking increasingly surprised.
    Nib keeps counting. Water still has not appeared.

    Why is water the 24th ingredient?

    Count down the list and water — “Water/Aqua/Eau” — does not appear until
    position 24, after the algae extract, the two petroleum occlusives, the waxes,
    the seed oils and powders, and the whole run of gluconate minerals. This is what
    formulators call an anhydrous, or near-anhydrous, cream: a fat-and-wax base with
    very little water in it.

    That is a deliberate choice, not a defect, and it changes what the product
    does. A water-heavy moisturizer leans on humectants that draw water toward the
    skin. A cream like this leans almost entirely on occlusion — sealing in the
    moisture already there. If your skin is very dry, or you live somewhere cold and
    harsh, an occlusive-first cream can genuinely suit you. If you were expecting the
    light, water-based “hydration” the word moisturizer usually implies, this is a
    different animal, and the label is where you find that out.

    This is also the natural place to mention the alternative, and we will be
    plain that it is ours: Evil Goods, the team who publish Ingredient Desk, make a
    beef-tallow
    moisturizer     that works through much the same occlusive idea — a fat that
    sits on the skin and slows water loss — using rendered animal fat rather than
    petroleum. Whether you prefer a petroleum base, a plant base or an animal fat is
    a real preference to have; the useful move is knowing which one you are actually
    buying.

    Nib finally taps the pencil on the word water far down the list and holds up a small hand-written sign reading number 24.
    There it is — water, the twenty-fourth thing on the label.

    Why are there so many fragrance ingredients at the end?

    The tail of the list carries a cluster of named fragrance components:
    Limonene, Geraniol, Linalool, Hydroxycitronellal, Citronellol, Benzyl
    Salicylate, then a catch-all “Fragrance (Parfum).” They are not there by
    accident, and they are not there because the amounts are dangerous. Under
    EU Cosmetics Regulation 1223/2009, a set of specific
    fragrance substances must be declared individually on a leave-on product once
    they exceed a very low threshold, because they are documented contact allergens
    in some people. The regulation’s job is disclosure: it lets a fragrance-reactive
    shopper scan the list and decide for themselves.

    So the honest read is regulatory, not alarmist. Six named allergens plus the
    parfum blend — and, higher up at position ten, Eucalyptus Globulus Leaf Oil,
    another common sensitiser for reactive skin — mean this is a fragranced cream. If
    your skin is easily irritated by scent, that is worth knowing before you spend.
    If it is not, it is simply information the label is required to give you.

    A note on the label itself

    One caveat, in the spirit of a site that asks you to check its work: published
    ingredient lists for this cream vary slightly by source. The brand-page version
    quoted above includes Zea Mays (Corn) Oil and Benzyl Benzoate; the DermApproved
    version omits both and instead lists Citral. That kind of difference usually
    means a regional formula variant or a list captured at a different point in the
    product’s life, not an error — but it means the printed carton in your hand is
    the authority, and if a specific ingredient matters to you, read the box you are
    buying rather than any third-party transcription, this one included.

    So is it worth it?

    That depends entirely on what you thought you were buying. If you wanted a
    rich occlusive balm and you like the ritual, the scent and the jar, La Mer
    delivers a competent occlusive cream — and the algae extract it is named after
    really is the largest ingredient in it. If you assumed a premium price meant a
    premium moisturizing mechanism, the label says otherwise: the sealing is done by
    mineral oil and petrolatum, water sits at 24, and the same occlusion is available
    in a great many cheaper forms. If you would rather that seal came from a
    food-grade fat than a petroleum one, that is where a
    tallow-based
    moisturizer like ours     is worth a look. Either way, the argument for reading
    the whole label — not just the first word of it — makes itself.

    Nib sits down beside the closed jar, magnifying glass in lap, giving a small satisfied shrug as if to say the label told the whole story.
    The label was honest all along. You just had to read past the first word.

  • CeraVe Moisturizing Cream: The Ceramide Formula Built on Petrolatum

    One tub of CeraVe Moisturizing Cream carries a list of 24 things. The three ceramides the brand markets as its defining feature sit at positions 9, 10 and 11. Petrolatum — one of the best-evidenced skin-barrier ingredients in dermatology — is at position 7, ahead of every ceramide. Reading that order does not make CeraVe a bad cream. It changes what you are actually paying for.

    CeraVe is named for ceramides. The word comes from cera, and the brand’s whole story is “3 essential ceramides.” That story is real: the ceramides are on the label, above the preservative, and there is published evidence behind the delivery system. But the label also tells you something the front of the tub does not — which ingredients are doing the heavy lifting, and where the marketed heroes actually fall in line.

    A quick disclosure before we go further: Ingredient Desk is published by the team behind Evil Goods, a tallow skincare brand. We read labels for a living and we sell an alternative. We will point at ours once, clearly labelled, near the end. Everything about CeraVe below comes from CeraVe’s own page and the peer-reviewed literature, dated and linked so you can check us.

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass up to an oversized CeraVe-style tub, squinting at the tiny ingredient list printed on the side.
    Nib does what most of us never do at the shelf: reads the whole list, in order.

    What does the CeraVe Moisturizing Cream label actually say?

    Here is the full ingredient list, quoted verbatim from CeraVe’s own US product page (cerave.com, read 2 September 2026):

    Aqua / Water / Eau, Glycerin, Cetearyl Alcohol, Caprylic/Capric Triglyceride, Cetyl Alcohol, Ceteareth-20, Petrolatum, Potassium Phosphate, Ceramide NP, Ceramide AP, Ceramide EOP, Carbomer, Dimethicone, Behentrimonium Methosulfate, Sodium Lauroyl Lactylate, Sodium Hyaluronate, Cholesterol, Phenoxyethanol, Disodium EDTA, Dipotassium Phosphate, Tocopherol, Phytosphingosine, Xanthan Gum, Ethylhexylglycerin

    That is the standard white-tub formula — not the Intensive version, not the Baby version. CeraVe’s page carries its own caveat that formulas are “updated regularly” and asks you to check the physical package, so treat this as the list on the brand’s site on the date above rather than an eternal truth. Ingredient lists are ordered by descending concentration down to roughly 1%, after which the order stops meaning much.

    One honest note on sourcing: a UK ingredient database, SkinSort, lists a CeraVe “Moisturising Cream” with the ceramides much further down — positions 16, 17 and 24. That is almost certainly the EU formulation, which CeraVe has reformulated regionally over the years. We used the brand’s own US page as the primary source and are flagging the discrepancy rather than picking the more dramatic version. If you want to be certain, the number on your own tub is the only source that settles it.

    Nib stands beside a tall bar chart drawn in pencil; the tallest bars near the front are labelled water, glycerin and petrolatum, while three small bars labelled ceramide sit further back.
    The first seven entries build the cream. The ceramides arrive after that.

    Where does petrolatum sit, and why does that matter?

    Petrolatum is ingredient number seven — ahead of all three ceramides. It is worth being precise about what that ingredient is, because “petroleum byproduct” scares people more than the evidence justifies.

    Petrolatum is an FDA-recognized OTC skin protectant (21 CFR § 347.10). The Society of Cosmetic Chemists, in a 2022 review, calls it “the gold standard topical agent for reducing transepidermal water loss.” And it is not merely an inert seal: a 2016 study in the Journal of Allergy and Clinical Immunology (Czarnowicki et al., PMID 26431582) found petrolatum upregulated filaggrin, loricrin and antimicrobial peptides in skin — barrier proteins, not just a greasy film.

    So the ingredient at position 7 has decades of evidence behind it for exactly the job a moisturizer is bought to do. The ceramide narrative is stacked on top of a backbone — water, glycerin, three fatty-alcohol emollients, an emulsifier and petrolatum — that is already a competent moisturizer before a single ceramide is counted. That backbone also costs, per gram, a fraction of what the ceramides do.

    Nib peers through the magnifying glass at three tiny jars in a row, each labelled Ceramide NP, AP and EOP, lined up behind a much larger jar marked petrolatum.
    The three marketed ceramides are genuinely here — sitting just behind the workhorse.

    Are the ceramides just for show, then?

    No — and this is where a lazy takedown would overreach. The ceramides are at positions 9, 10 and 11, which puts them above the preservative phenoxyethanol at position 18. That matters: it means they are almost certainly present at more than a trace, unlike a hero ingredient that shows up after the preservative. CeraVe does not publish the exact percentage, and neither will we invent one.

    The evidence for ceramide moisturizers is real but specific. A 2023 systematic review and meta-analysis (PMC10162745) found ceramide-containing moisturizers improved atopic-dermatitis severity scores significantly better than other moisturizers — but the difference in water-loss reduction was not statistically significant. In plain terms: for managing eczema-prone skin, the ceramide formula showed a real edge; for the raw job of holding water in, it was not measurably ahead of other good moisturizers. Petrolatum, meanwhile, is the standout at that one job.

    CeraVe also funds its own supporting research, which the brand is entitled to do as long as it is disclosed. A 2020 study (Draelos, J Drugs Dermatol) — funded by CeraVe’s parent, L’Oréal — reported that four weeks of the ceramide cream raised the skin’s own ceramide content by about 10%. That is a genuine finding worth knowing, and it is industry-funded; both things are true at once.

    Nib sits at a small desk stamped Ingredient Desk, holding a pencil over an open notebook, looking thoughtfully at the tub rather than crossing it out.
    The desk’s verdict isn’t ‘avoid.’ It’s ‘know what you’re paying the premium for.’

    So what are you actually buying?

    You are buying a well-made moisturizer whose moment-to-moment moisturizing comes mostly from glycerin at position 2 and petrolatum at position 7 — a pair with sixty-plus years of evidence between them and a production cost measured in cents per gram — plus a real, above-the-preservative dose of three ceramides and a patented delivery system that the brand has published data on. None of that is a con. The gap worth noticing is only this: the front of the tub sells the ceramides, and the label shows they are the supporting cast to a petrolatum-and-glycerin base you could get, in barrier terms, from a far plainer product.

    If you have eczema-prone skin, that ceramide edge may be worth the premium; the meta-analysis supports that use specifically. If you just want to stop water leaving dry skin, a simpler petrolatum-forward cream does most of the same work.

    There is a third road, which is where we come in. Some people would rather their occlusive be a skin-identical fat than a petroleum distillate — not because petrolatum is unsafe (the evidence above says it is not), but as a preference for a fatty-acid profile closer to skin’s own. That is the case for tallow, and we walk through the honest version of it — including where the evidence is thin — on our own tallow-for-dry-skin page (this one is ours, Evil Goods). We are not going to pretend a head-to-head clinical trial exists; it largely does not. Read it as one option, not a verdict.

    How do CeraVe’s marketed heroes line up on the label?

    Here is the marketing language against the label, position by position:

    Marketed as a hero Position on the label What that implies
    Ceramide NP 9 of 24 Above the preservative; more than trace, exact % undisclosed
    Ceramide AP 10 of 24 Second of the three
    Ceramide EOP 11 of 24 Third of the three
    Hyaluronic acid (Sodium Hyaluronate) 16 of 24 Lower third, near the preservative zone — low concentration
    Dimethicone 13 of 24 Silicone; adds slip and a moisture-retaining film
    Petrolatum (also brand-listed) 7 of 24 Ahead of every ceramide; does most of the barrier work

    To CeraVe’s credit, the brand names petrolatum as a key ingredient itself — it is not hiding it. The label and the marketing are not in conflict so much as differently weighted. The label just tells you the weighting.

    Frequently asked questions

    Where do the ceramides fall in CeraVe Moisturizing Cream?
    On CeraVe’s US product page (read 2 September 2026), Ceramide NP, AP and EOP are ingredients 9, 10 and 11 of 24, ahead of the preservative at position 18.
    Is petrolatum bad for your skin?
    The evidence says the opposite for barrier support: it is an FDA-recognized OTC skin protectant and the Society of Cosmetic Chemists calls it the gold standard for reducing water loss. A 2016 study found it upregulates skin-barrier proteins.
    Are the ceramides present at only trace levels?
    No. They appear above the preservative, which suggests more than a trace. CeraVe does not publish the exact percentage, so we do not either.
    Why do different databases list the ceramides in different spots?
    A UK database shows them much lower, which is likely the EU formula; CeraVe reformulates by region. We used the brand’s US page and flagged the difference rather than choosing the more dramatic order.

    Ingredient Desk is published by the team behind Evil Goods. We read labels, cite our sources, and link out at least as often as we link to ourselves. Check anything here against the list on your own tub — that is the point of the exercise.

    Nib, pencil tucked behind, gives a small satisfied nod beside the closed notebook and the tub, the magnifying glass set down — work done for the day.
    Nib’s rule of the desk: read the whole list, in order, and let the label do the talking.

  • “Pure Epsom Salt” Is the Brand Name. Epsom Salt Is the 9th Ingredient.

    On Dr. Teal’s Body Wash with Pure Epsom Salt (Vanilla Comfort), magnesium sulfate — the “Epsom Salt” in the brand name — is the 9th ingredient of 23. It sits after three surfactants, table salt, fragrance and two botanical extracts. In this kind of rinse-off formula, cosmetic ingredient databases list magnesium sulfate’s job as viscosity control, not a skin-benefit active.

    The bottle leads with two words: Pure Epsom Salt. It’s the name of the product. So the reasonable assumption is that Epsom salt — magnesium sulfate — is the thing doing the work. The label tells a quieter story, and it’s worth reading before you decide what this body wash is to you.

    INCI read from the Ulta.com product listing (SKU 2654160) on 2026-08-31. Dr. Teal’s reformulates scents from time to time, so an older bottle in your cabinet may differ from this list.

    Nib, a small round pencil-sketch creature, holds a magnifying glass up to a tall body-wash bottle labelled Pure Epsom Salt.
    Nib reads the front of the bottle first, like everyone does. “Pure Epsom Salt” — in the brand name, no less.

    Where does magnesium sulfate actually sit on the label?

    Here is the full ingredient list, quoted verbatim from the retailer page:

    Water (Aqua, Eau), Sodium Lauryl Sulfate, Cocamidopropyl Betaine, Sodium Chloride, Fragrance (Parfum), Sodium Laureth Sulfate, Zingiber Officinale (Ginger) Root Extract, Elettaria Cardamomum Seed Extract, Magnesium Sulfate (Epsom Salt), Butyrospermum Parkii (Shea) Butter, Aloe Barbadensis Leaf Juice (Decolorized), Tocopheryl Acetate (Vitamin E), Peg-4 Rapeseedamide, Glycerin, Hydroxypropyl Methylcellulose, Sodium Peg-7 Olive Oil Carboxylate, Tetrasodium Edta, Polyquaternium-7, Citric Acid, Methylchloroisothiazolinone, Methylisothiazolinone, Sodium Hydroxide, Peg/Ppg-18/18 Dimethicone.

    Magnesium sulfate is ninth on that list, of twenty-three lines in total. Under the standard INCI convention, ingredients are listed in descending order of concentration down to the 1% mark, after which they may appear in any order. A useful rule of thumb: in a rinse-off product, fragrance usually runs somewhere between 0.01% and 1%. Fragrance is fifth here. Everything below it — including the magnesium sulfate at position nine — is very likely present at or below one percent. We can’t state the exact figure without a certificate of analysis, and we won’t pretend to; position is all the label lets us read.

    Nib turns the bottle around and squints through the magnifying glass at the small-print ingredient list on the back.
    Then Nib flips it over. The real story is always on the back, in the type nobody reads.

    What is magnesium sulfate doing in a body wash?

    This is the part that surprises people. In a surfactant system like a body wash, magnesium sulfate isn’t classified as a skin-benefit active at all. Independent ingredient databases describe its cosmetic function as bulking and viscosity control — it helps set the texture of the wash, the same practical job that Sodium Chloride (table salt, fourth on this list) is doing.

    COSMILE Europe (EU cosmetic ingredient database)
    Lists magnesium sulfate’s functions as bulking and viscosity controlling only — not as an active. This is the EU regulatory reference source.
    The Skin Formulary
    Classifies it as a viscosity controller / emulsion stabiliser.
    Incidecoder (this product line)
    Tags magnesium sulfate as viscosity controlling on Dr. Teal’s own body wash.

    None of that means the ingredient is bad, or that the product is bad. It means the mineral on the front of the bottle is, on the evidence of the label, most plausibly there in a texture-and-formula role rather than as the star of the show.

    Nib runs a pencil down a long INCI list, counting ingredients one by one, brow furrowed in concentration.
    Counting down the list with a pencil: one surfactant, two, table salt, fragrance… and still no magnesium.

    Does topical magnesium even get into the skin?

    Set the body wash aside and ask the bigger question, because it’s the one shoppers are really chasing: can magnesium applied to skin actually be absorbed? The honest answer is that the evidence is mixed and mostly built on small studies.

    • A 2017 systematic review in Nutrients concluded that transdermal magnesium is not well supported by the science: magnesium ions are water-loving and don’t readily cross the skin’s oily outer layer, and hair follicles (a possible shortcut) cover only about 0.1–1% of the skin’s surface.
    • A newer 2026 ex vivo study found minimal magnesium permeation across intact skin, rising only when the skin barrier had been deliberately disrupted — the authors note that delivery from simple water-based solutions is unlikely under normal conditions.
    • For balance, it’s not all one way: a 2016 human-skin study did find some magnesium passing through, facilitated by hair follicles, in a time- and concentration-dependent way. The effect appears real; the open question is at what scale it matters.

    A rinse-off body wash is the hardest case for that already-thin evidence, for a pair of practical reasons: skin contact is brief, and then you rinse it down the drain. We couldn’t find a single study looking specifically at magnesium delivered from a rinse-off wash. That’s not a knock on the product — it’s just the reality of what’s been tested.

    Nib points the pencil at the ninth line on the ingredient list, having finally found magnesium sulfate near the middle.
    There it is — ninth. The hero mineral, sitting below the fragrance line.

    So is the body wash worth buying?

    If you want a pleasant, fragranced body wash, this is one — the surfactants at the top of the list are what clean, and the vanilla scent is what most reviews are actually responding to. Just buy it for what it is. If your reason for reaching for it is the magnesium on the front, the label suggests that reason is doing more work in the marketing than in the bottle.

    If it’s genuinely topical magnesium you’re after, a leave-on format keeps the ingredient on your skin instead of rinsing it away, which is the more sensible way to give the (still-modest) evidence a chance to apply. Evil Goods — the team behind this site — wrote up the safety question on our own blog if you want to read where the science lands before spending anything.

    Frequently asked questions

    Is there really any Epsom salt in Dr. Teal’s body wash?
    Yes — magnesium sulfate (Epsom salt) is genuinely on the ingredient list. It appears ninth of 23, after the fragrance line, which on standard INCI reading suggests it’s present at roughly one percent or less.
    Why is magnesium sulfate so far down the list?
    In a body wash it functions mainly as a bulking / viscosity-control ingredient rather than an active, so it’s used at the small level that job requires. Table salt, a few lines above it, is doing a similar texture job.
    Does the magnesium in a body wash absorb into my skin?
    The evidence for topical magnesium absorption is limited and mostly from small studies, and it’s weakest for a rinse-off product with brief skin contact. No study has tested magnesium delivery from a body wash specifically.
    Is a leave-on magnesium product better for this?
    For keeping the ingredient in contact with skin, yes — a balm or lotion stays on rather than being rinsed off. Whether that translates to a meaningful effect is still an open scientific question.
    Where did you read this ingredient list?
    From the Ulta.com listing for SKU 2654160 on 2026-08-31. We always date our reads because formulas change.
    Nib sets down the magnifying glass, holding the bottle at arm's length with a thoughtful, unbothered expression.
    Nib isn’t cross about it. It’s just useful to know where the headline ingredient actually lives before you decide what it’s worth to you.

  • What Does ‘Aluminum-Free’ Actually Tell You About a Deodorant?

    “Aluminum-free” tells you one thing a deodorant
    leaves out. It does not tell you what the formula is built from, or where the
    ingredients the marketing leans on actually sit. On the label of one of the
    best-selling aluminum-free sticks, the shea butter and coconut oil the brand
    names on the front appear seventh and ninth in a fourteen-item list — after
    the fragrance. The absence of aluminum is real. The “skin-loving” story is
    mostly at the bottom of the jar.

    Aluminum-free is one of the loudest phrases in the deodorant aisle, and it
    is doing something specific and legitimate: aluminum salts are the active in
    antiperspirants, the ingredient that actually blocks sweat. A deodorant without
    them does not stop you sweating; it works on odor instead. That is a real,
    honest distinction. The trouble is that the phrase has quietly come to stand in
    for “clean,” “gentle,” and “good for your skin” — qualities it does not
    measure at all.

    The only way to answer those is to read the ingredient list. So let us read
    one.

    What does the label on a real aluminum-free stick say?

    Here is the full INCI list for Native’s reformulated aluminum-free stick,
    quoted verbatim from two public retailer listings — the Ocean & Timber
    and Cashmere & Rain scents on Hannaford’s grocery site, both read on 28
    August 2026. Both scents carry the identical base:

    Caprylic/Capric Triglyceride, Stearyl Behenate, Magnesium Oxide, Tapioca Starch, Cyclodextrin, Fragrance, Butyrospermum Parkii (Shea) Butter, Tribehenin, Cocos Nucifera (Coconut) Oil, Piroctone Olamine, Bisabolol, Oryza Sativa (Rice) Bran Wax, Zingiber Officinale (Ginger) Root Extract.

    An INCI list is ordered by concentration down to 1%, so position is
    information. The leading items on the list — a lightweight emollient oil,
    a wax, magnesium oxide and tapioca starch — are the structure and the
    odor-and-moisture control. That is a perfectly reasonable way to build a
    deodorant. Nothing here is a problem.

    What is worth noticing is where the ingredients the brand advertises land.
    The product page describes it as “made with naturally-derived ingredients you
    can feel good about, like shea butter and coconut oil.” On the label,
    Butyrospermum Parkii (shea butter) is seventh and Cocos
    Nucifera     (coconut) oil is ninth — both below Fragrance at position
    six. In a formula ordered by weight, that means each of the two hero
    ingredients is present at less than the fragrance is, and the fragrance is
    already into the tail of the list. This is not a scandal. It is simply the gap
    between what a front-of-pack line implies and what the label states.

    Pencil sketch of a small creature admiring the front of a cosmetic jar
    The front of the jar is a marketing document.

    Is the fragrance in a natural deodorant worth a second look?

    Fragrance sitting at position six is the line most worth pausing on, and not
    because “fragrance” is a dirty word. It is because deodorants are, specifically,
    one of the product categories dermatology literature flags most often for
    fragrance contact allergy.

    The numbers are worth stating with their strength rather than rounded up.
    In the general population, roughly 0.7–4.5% of adults show a positive
    patch test to standard fragrance markers, depending on the study and the panel
    used
    (Allergic
    Contact Dermatitis to Fragrances, PubMed 32475515    ). Among patients who are
    patch-tested because a rash sent them to a dermatologist, that figure
    rises to somewhere between 5% and 25%
    (American
    Contact Dermatitis Society review, Fragrances: Contact Allergy and Other Adverse
    Effects    ). The European Commission’s independent scientific committee puts it
    plainly: perfumes and deodorants are the most frequent sources of fragrance
    sensitization in women
    (European
    Commission, Perfume Allergies    ).

    Most people who wear a fragranced deodorant will be completely fine. But if
    you are one of the minority who reacts, an underarm — warm, occluded,
    freshly shaved — is close to the worst place to find out. That is a real,
    sourced reason a fragrance-sensitive person might prefer a fragrance-free stick,
    and it has nothing to do with the aluminum question the front of the pack is
    answering.

    Pencil sketch of the creature turning the jar around to squint at the back
    The back of it is the actual one.

    Does “baking soda free” mean the same on every stick?

    The claim
    “Baking soda free” is a common front-of-pack line on
    natural deodorants, because sodium bicarbonate is a well-known underarm
    irritant for some people at the pH it sits at.
    The catch
    It is a per-formula claim, not a per-brand one. Native’s
    reformulated stick above carries no sodium bicarbonate. But some of the same
    brand’s older or scent-specific formulas historically listed it, and other
    “natural” brands still do. The phrase on one box does not travel to the box next
    to it.
    The check
    Read the ingredient list on the exact product you are
    holding, not the brand’s reputation. “Sodium Bicarbonate” is baking soda; if it
    is in the list, the stick contains it whatever the marketing says elsewhere.

    We have written before about a stick whose own label contradicted its
    “baking soda free” flag — a good reminder that the two live in different
    places on the package and are not automatically consistent.

    Pencil sketch of the creature reading a label through a jeweller's loupe
    Ingredient lists run in order of weight. That is the whole trick.

    How should you actually read an aluminum-free label?

    Four habits get you most of the way, and none of them require chemistry:

    What the front says What it actually claims Where to verify it
    Aluminum-free No aluminum salts — so it is a deodorant, not
    an antiperspirant. Says nothing about gentleness.    		 True by definition if
    labelled; check it is a deodorant, not that it “detoxes.”
    Made with shea butter / coconut oil Those ingredients are
    present. Not that they are present at a meaningful level.    		 Their position
    in the INCI list — near the top means a lot, near the bottom means a
    trace.
    Baking soda free This formula omits sodium bicarbonate. Scan the list for “Sodium Bicarbonate” on the exact product.
    For sensitive skin A marketing position, not a regulated
    term.    		 Look for fragrance; a fragrance-free stick is the safer bet if you
    react.

    If you have reacted to fragranced sticks before and want a tallow-based
    option built around fat rather than starch-and-wax, our own
    Evil Goods Tallow
    Deodorant     is one alternative — and yes, this site is published by the
    team behind Evil Goods, so treat that as us pointing at our own shelf. It is a
    deodorant, not an antiperspirant, for the same reason every aluminum-free stick
    is: no aluminum salts, so it does not block sweat. Read its list the same
    sceptical way you would read anyone else’s.

    Pencil sketch of the creature at a desk working down an enormous unrolled list
    Counting down to where the hero ingredient actually lands.

    The bottom line

    “Aluminum-free” is a true and useful thing to know: it tells you the product
    is a deodorant, not an antiperspirant. It is just not the whole label. The
    concentration story, the fragrance question, and the baking-soda question all
    live further down the list, in the order the ingredients are printed —
    which is exactly where most shoppers never look. Reading three lines of INCI
    tells you more than the biggest word on the front ever will.

    FAQ

    Does aluminum-free mean the deodorant is safer?
    It means no aluminum salts, so it works on odor rather than blocking sweat. It
    does not measure irritation, allergy risk, or ingredient quality — those
    depend on the rest of the list, not on the aluminum claim.

    Why do shea butter and coconut oil sometimes appear low on the
    list?
    Because INCI lists are ordered by concentration down to 1%. An ingredient named
    on the front but printed near the bottom is present at a low level. That is
    legal and common; it just means the marketing is louder than the dose.

    Is fragrance in a deodorant a problem?
    For most people, no. But deodorants are among the products most often linked to
    fragrance contact allergy in dermatology data, so if you have reacted before, a
    fragrance-free stick is the lower-risk choice.

    How do I check if a “baking soda free” deodorant really is?

    Scan the ingredient list on that exact product for “Sodium Bicarbonate,”
    which is baking soda. The claim is per-formula, so it will not always match
    across a brand’s whole range.

    Ingredient Desk is published by the team behind Evil Goods. We read the
    labels either way — including our own.

    Pencil sketch of the creature tipping the jar upside down; a single drop falls into a teaspoon
    The hero ingredient, actual size.