My Hot Take on 4-Year-Old Skincare

Earlier this month, Shay Mitchell, whom I genuinely admire and fully credit for turning me into a BEIS disciple, launched a bold new skincare line for kids. After the backlash around the Sephora kids moment, which is marketed directly to kids, hits a nerve and I understand why people are upset. We should not be suggesting to very young kids that their skin is anything less than perfect because they do not need skincare.

As a mom of a boy who has mimicked me putting on lipstick, and an aunt to two beauty-obsessed nieces, I understand the other side. Sometimes you just want to know that what you are putting on your child is safe. Have you ever wondered why that Halloween makeup smells like plastic or what red dye # was in that face paint or temporary tattoo? We don’t investigate because it’s generally a one-time thing, and it’s just fun. Rini is tapping into that fun and wrapping it into a meaningful mommy-and-me moment. I get it.

Plenty of Substackers have covered the ethics of this launch. It’s predatory, exploitative, and just wrong. I get that too. After I read the instructions for the hydrogel mask, I have a different take altogether, more of the practical kind.

Have you ever applied a hydrogel mask? If not, let me paint the picture. It comes in two floppy pieces. You fiddle and adjust and try desperately to make them line up. It is cold and slimy. It slides around even when you are fully awake and holding still. Now imagine a four-year-old applying it (ok, let’s assume mom does it), but now the child will have to wait for 5-15 minutes. If you have ever tried to put SPF on a four-year-old, you already understand why this will not end well. There is no way this is happening without some pushback. The instructions are absurd. Dance or read a book while you wait? Come on.

So while both sides of the debate make sense to me, if my son asked for this, I would probably say no. But if he pleaded, I would probably cave, and it would most likely be a one-time thing, and it would not be the end of the world.

But the bigger question is what we are teaching in the process. Are we sacrificing a sweet mommy and me moment in exchange for the subtext that their skin needs fixing or care? Labeling this as skincare is part of the problem and part of the uproar. If they were called jelly masks that turned a surprise color, maybe it would land differently. I think calling it skincare sends a very different message because when you are four, you should be without any cares.