I inherited, from my mother, the age spot on my left cheek. I inherited, from my mother, the tendency to bruise at the back of the hands for two weeks before fading. I inherited, from my mother, the dry skin around the eyes in winter that turns, by January, into a small flaking no concealer covers. I inherited, from my mother, the French moisturizer she has been using since I was eight.
My mother is eighty-one. She lives in Pittsburgh. She presses her face cream onto her cheekbones with the same two fingers she has used for forty years. I am thirty-eight. I live in Brooklyn. I press my face cream onto my cheekbones with the same two fingers. The fingers are, in some quiet way, the inheritance.
Below is the list of products I use because of my mother. I have changed my mind about several things I used to believe about skincare, most of them things she told me were wrong when I was in my twenties. I have opinions on what to skip. There is a brief history of how sunscreen went from a 1978 Category I approval to a $15 Korean formulation. And there is, at the end, an honest summary — because anyone who tells you your mother's skin is not, in some quiet way, your skin has not, in fact, looked in the mirror next to her.
The list
1. RoC Retinol Correxion Deep Wrinkle Night Cream, $24 for 20. The retinol my mother started using, on her dermatologist's recommendation, in 1989, two years after the FDA approved tretinoin for photoaging. The RoC is the over-the-counter version of the same molecule, at 1% concentration, in a basic night cream base. My mother has, in thirty-seven years of using it, gone through approximately one tube every six months. I have, in the last four years, gone through approximately one tube every four months. The RoC does, on my skin, the one thing a retinoid is supposed to do: it speeds up the cell turnover, which is, in plain English, the rate at which the new skin comes up and the old skin goes away. The RoC is, by my mother's standard, the only retinol worth buying. I agree with her. I agreed with her in 2009. I was wrong about agreeing with her in 2009 because I stopped using it in 2009.
2. CeraVe Healing Ointment, $14 for 12 oz. The petroleum-jelly-plus-three-ceramides product my mother has been putting on her lips, in the winter, since 2003. The ointment is, by every dermatologist I have asked, the best occlusive on the market for the price. I use it, in 2026, on the corners of my nose in January, on the small cuts the dog leaves on my forearms when we play in the park, on the dry patch that appears, every winter, above my left eyebrow. The 12-oz tub lasts, by my standard, four months. The cost per use is, in 2026, approximately $0.05.
3. La Roche-Posay Cicaplast Baume B5, $15 for 40 mL. The French pharmacy product my mother brought back from a trip to Lyon in 1996 and has been using, on the dry patches, on the small burns from the oven, on the places where the skin is, in her word, "off," ever since. The Cicaplast is, by every French dermatologist I have asked, the right answer for a compromised barrier. I use it, in 2026, after the retinol nights when my skin is irritated. I use it, in summer, after the sun. I use it on the dog when he gets a hot spot. The dog does not care. The skin heals.
4. Bioderma Sensibio H2O Micellar Water, $14 for 16.9 oz. The French micellar water my mother has been using, since 2002, to remove her makeup. The Sensibio is, by every French pharmacy standard, the only cleanser you need for a sensitive barrier. I do not, in 2026, wear enough makeup to need a remover most days. On the days I do, this is the one I reach for. It does, by my standard, what a $40 cleansing balm does, for $14. The 16.9-oz bottle lasts, by my standard, four months.
5. Eucerin Original Healing Cream, $15 for 16 oz. The body cream my mother has been putting on her arms, every night, since I was eight. The cream is, by my mother's standard and by my own, the best body moisturizer on the market. I use it, in 2026, after every shower, on the arms, the legs, the hands, the feet. The 16-oz tub lasts, by my standard, two months. The cost per use is, in 2026, approximately $0.08.
6. Vanicream Moisturizing Cream, $15 for 16 oz. The second moisturizer in the rotation, for the days the Eucerin feels too heavy. The Vanicream is, by every dermatologist I have asked, the most boring moisturizer available in 2026, and is also the one most often recommended for sensitive skin. I use it, in 2026, on the mornings after the retinol nights. I use it on the face, in summer, when the Eucerin is too occlusive. The 16-oz tub lasts, by my standard, four months.
7. Avène Thermal Spring Water, $14 for 10.1 oz. The thermal water my mother sprays on her face, every morning, after the cleanse. The Avène is, by every French pharmacy standard, the only facial spray worth buying. The water comes from a spring in the Cévennes. The spray does, on most skin, almost nothing. The spray is also, by my honest accounting, the most calming product I own. I use it, in 2026, after the cleanse, before the moisturizer. The 10.1-oz can lasts, by my standard, six weeks.
Total annual spend: $258. The five products my mother uses come to $80 of that. The other $178 is the sunscreen I started using in 2020, the AHA I added in 2022, and the hyaluronic acid serum I added in 2024. The seven products do, by my honest accounting, 100% of the work.
What I have changed my mind about
A few beliefs I held in my twenties, that the last ten years have quietly killed.
I used to think sun damage was fine. I wore, between the ages of sixteen and twenty-eight, SPF 15, on the face, only in summer, never reapplied. The age spot on my left cheek appeared, by my dermatologist's account, in 2014. The age spot on my right cheek appeared, by the same account, in 2018. The age spots are, in 2026, the visible record of every summer I did not reapply. My mother wore, between 1989 and 2026, SPF 50, every day, on the face, reapplied every two hours. My mother has, at eighty-one, one age spot. I have, at thirty-eight, four. The math, on this, is the math.
I used to think anti-aging was vanity. I believed, in my twenties, that the women who bought anti-aging products were, by my honest accounting, vain. I believed, in my early thirties, that the women who bought anti-aging products were, by the industry's accounting, a target demographic. I believe, in my late thirties, that anti-aging is, by the dermatological accounting, three things: sunscreen, retinol, and patience. The vanity is in the $400 cream. The science is in the $24 RoC.
I used to think facials were enough. I had, between 2014 and 2020, approximately twenty-eight facials, at an average cost of $135, for a total spend of $3,780. The facials felt, in the moment, like they were doing something. The facials did, by my dermatologist's account, nothing my $24 retinol was not already doing. The facials are, in 2026, an indulgence I no longer have. The $135 a month I was spending on facials is, in 2026, the $258 a year I now spend on the seven products above.
I used to think skin type didn't change. I had oily skin, in my twenties, on the T-zone, with breakouts along the chin. I had combination skin, in my early thirties, with the same breakouts and a new dryness around the eyes. I have, in my late thirties, dry skin, with occasional breakouts around the chin during the hormonal week, and a sensitivity to fragrance I did not have at twenty-five. The skin type changed, in fifteen years, three times. The products that worked at twenty-five do not work at thirty-eight. The products my mother has been using for forty years still work for her, because her skin type stopped changing at sixty.
I used to think the French knew better. My mother, who grew up in Pittsburgh and spent summers in Lyon with her mother's family, has been buying French pharmacy products since 1962. I assumed, in my twenties, that this was a generational quirk. I assumed, in my late twenties, that the French pharmacy products were, like everything French, over-marketed. I know, in 2026, that the French pharmacy products — Bioderma, La Roche-Posay, Avène, RoC — are, by every dermatologist I have asked, the best-value skincare on the global market. My mother was right. I was wrong.
What to skip when building a skincare routine
If I were advising a friend who wanted to build her first skincare routine in 2026, I would tell them to skip these categories entirely.
At-home peels. The 30% glycolic acid peel you can buy on Amazon for $25 is, by every dermatologist I have asked, a chemical burn waiting to happen. The at-home peels are, in most cases, used at concentrations that damage the skin barrier. The barrier takes, by my dermatologist's standard, two to four weeks to repair once damaged. The Ordinary Glycolic Acid 7% Toning Solution, at $8.70, is the highest concentration you should use at home. Skip the 30% peel. Buy the 7%.
Microneedling devices. The at-home microneedling device, the $39 derma roller on Amazon, is, by every dermatologist I have asked, a way to introduce bacteria into the skin. The in-office microneedling, performed by a board-certified dermatologist, is a different product at a different price. The at-home device is, in 2026, a $39 way to damage your barrier. Skip it. Save the $39 for a dermatologist visit.
Expensive serums before sunscreen. The $90 Drunk Elephant, the $74 SkinMedica, the $165 Augustinus Bader — none of these are, by every dermatologist I have asked, doing anything your $15 sunscreen is not doing better. The expensive serum is, in 2026, the $24 RoC plus the $15 sunscreen in a prettier bottle. Buy the sunscreen first. Buy the serum when you have, by your own accounting, $90 you do not need.
"Anti-aging" anything under $20. The ingredients that actually do anti-aging work — retinoids, glycolic acid, vitamin C, niacinamide — are not, in most cases, expensive. The $15 anti-aging moisturizer is, in most cases, the $8 moisturizer with an "anti-aging" label and a $7 markup. Skip the label. Buy the active ingredient.
Multi-step exfoliation. Exfoliating more than three times a week damages the skin barrier. Exfoliating every day destroys it. The skincare industry wants you to exfoliate daily. The skin does not. Exfoliate three times a week at most. The rest of the week, the skin is repairing.
Tools. Jade rollers, gua sha stones, microcurrent devices. None of these are, by every dermatologist I have asked, scientifically validated. The jade roller is, in the words of one dermatologist, "a piece of stone you roll on your face." It does not, in any meaningful way, depuff, lift, or contour. Skip the tool. Use your hands.
A brief history
The sunscreen industry is, by every measure, a 20th-century invention. The first commercial sunscreen was developed in Australia in 1932 by H.A. Milton Blake, a chemist who was trying to protect his patients from the sun's UV rays. The first FDA approval of a sunscreen active ingredient, PABA, came in 1978, as a Category I (generally recognized as safe and effective) ingredient. The first broad-spectrum sunscreen, protecting against both UVA and UVB rays, was approved in 1997.
The retinol story is, by every measure, a 1970s story. Tretinoin, the prescription-strength version of retinol, was FDA-approved for acne in 1971. It was approved for photoaging, the visible damage caused by sun exposure, in 1988, after a landmark study by Dr. Albert Kligman at the University of Pennsylvania showed that tretinoin improved the appearance of sun-damaged skin. The over-the-counter retinols — retinol, retinaldehyde, retinyl palmitate — followed, at lower concentrations, in the 1990s and 2000s.
Niacinamide, vitamin B3, was first isolated in 1934 by Conrad Elvehjem at the University of Wisconsin. Its use in skincare was, in 2026, the most boring active ingredient and, by the same measure, the most consistently useful. Niacinamide treats hyperpigmentation, reduces inflammation, improves the skin barrier. The ingredient is, by every dermatologist I have asked, the single most underrated active in the skincare industry.
The 2020s skincare industry is, in some ways, in retreat. The "clean beauty" backlash of 2023-2024, the rise of dermatologist-founded brands (Curology, Musely, Agency), and the proliferation of $10 to $20 effective alternatives from brands like The Ordinary (founded 2013) and the French pharmacy houses have, in some quiet way, restored the price-efficacy relationship to something approaching sanity. The $258 routine I use in 2026 is, in 2018 terms, an $800 routine. The same products, by 2026 standards, are $258.
The honest summary
My mother's skin is, at eighty-one, my skin in forty-three years. The age spots she has, I have. The dry skin around the eyes she has, I have. The tendency to bruise at the back of the hands she has, I have. The French moisturizer she uses, I use. The skincare routine I have now is, in five of seven products, the routine she has been using since 1985.
What works for me: a French pharmacy cleanser, a $24 retinol, a $15 French healing balm, a $15 body cream, a $15 facial cream, and a $15 thermal water spray. The routine takes, by my standard, four minutes in the morning and three minutes at night. The cost is $258 a year. The skin is, at thirty-eight, the best version of my mother's skin at thirty-eight that I have, in my own accounting, been able to maintain.
What does not work for me, and may not work for you: the idea that more products mean better skin. The idea that expensive products work better than cheap ones. The idea that the French pharmacy tradition is a generational quirk. The honest summary is, in the end, this: my mother was right. The French pharmacy was right. The $24 retinol was, in 2026, still the right answer. The math was always the math.
I will, at sixty, still be using the RoC. I will, at seventy, still be using the La Roche-Posay. I will, at eighty-one, be pressing the cream onto my cheekbones with the same two fingers. The fingers are, in the end, the only inheritance that mattered.