Pure ingredients
Raw ingredients. Ancient wisdom. Modern results. Every product contains only what nature intended:
- Grass-fed tallow rich in bioavailable nutrients
- Raw honey and adaptogenic herbs in their purest form
- Regeneratively sourced proteins, never denatured
- Zero synthetic additives or lab-made fillers
Small-batch wellness our ancestors would recognize. Because when you honor nature's integrity, your body knows the difference.
Let customers speak for us
Why Purishh?
Pure Ingredients
Handpicked and ethically sourced from trusted, natural farms.
Effective Results
Each product is designed to protect, nourish, and enhance your skin’s natural balance.
Holistic Wellness
Embrace a balanced lifestyle with supplements and creams that work in harmony with your body.
Frequently Asked Question
What makes Purishh products different from conventional supplements or skincare?
What makes Purishh products different from conventional supplements or skincare?
Purishh’s mission is to return to the raw, unprocessed power of nature. Every product is formulated with 100 % natural ingredients and no synthetic preservatives, fillers, or dyes. For example, the Raw Honey Butter contains whipped Wagyu beef tallow, cold‑pressed olive and coconut oils, mango butter, raw honey and beeswax – it moisturizes deeply and can even replace conventional lotion. The Raw Tallow Sunbalm uses grass‑fed tallow, non‑nano zinc oxide and organic oils to provide mineral sun protection while nourishing the skin. Purishh’s Protein Powder combines grass‑fed whey and hydrolyzed collagen with organic superfoods to deliver 26 g of easily digestible protein with zero added sugar. Across their range, Purishh keeps ingredient lists short and transparent, using only what is necessary to support health and well‑being.
Are Purishh’s ingredients ethically and sustainably sourced?
Are Purishh’s ingredients ethically and sustainably sourced?
Yes. The founders emphasize sustainable sourcing and ethical treatment of animals and land. Tallow for the skincare range is hand‑sourced from 100 % grass‑fed, Wagyu, halal cattle in New Zealand, ensuring humane slaughter and optimal nutrient quality. Olive and coconut oils are single‑origin, cold‑pressed. The whey in Purishh protein powder comes from grass‑fed cows raised without hormones or antibiotics, and the collagen is hydrolyzed for better absorption. These practices mean customers receive products that are both pure and sustainable.
Why does Purishh use beef tallow in its skincare products?
Why does Purishh use beef tallow in its skincare products?
Grass‑fed beef tallow is biocompatible with human skin; its fatty‑acid profile closely resembles natural sebum, so it’s absorbed efficiently. Properly rendered tallow is a vitamin powerhouse, naturally supplying vitamins A, D, E, and K that support cell turnover, immune function, and antioxidant protection. Tallow also contains oleic, stearic and palmitic acids that strengthen the skin’s barrier, calm inflammation and maintain moisture. Grass‑fed tallow offers a high concentration of conjugated linoleic acid (CLA), an anti‑inflammatory fatty acid. These nutrients collectively help Purishh’s Raw Honey Butter and Raw Tallow Sunbalm to moisturize, nourish and protect the skin without clogging pores or causing irritation.
How is Purishh protein powder different, and why is it easy to digest?
How is Purishh protein powder different, and why is it easy to digest?
Many conventional protein powders use cheap sources and add artificial thickeners or sweeteners that cause bloating and digestive discomfort. Purishh starts with grass‑fed whey processed via cold‑filtration, which preserves natural enzymes and bioactive peptides that aid digestion. It also adds hydrolyzed bovine collagen to support joints, skin and gut health. The powder uses organic monk fruit for sweetness and contains no carrageenan, gums, sucralose or artificial preservatives, so it mixes smoothly and is gentle on the stomach. Each serving provides 26 g of complete protein with only 1 g of fat and zero sugar, making it suitable for keto, gluten‑free and non‑GMO diets.
What are Purishh Electrolytes, and how do they support hydration?
What are Purishh Electrolytes, and how do they support hydration?
Purishh’s Electrolytes formula offers clean hydration without the artificial colors and preservatives found in many sports drinks. Each serving includes over 800 mg of unrefined Himalayan salt, providing sodium and trace minerals, plus magnesium malate and potassium chloride. Organic fruit powders (raspberry or lemon‑lime) and monk fruit sweetener give a natural flavor without sugar. The formula helps replenish electrolytes lost through exercise, supports muscle function, and is keto‑friendly.
What is Raw Shilajit, and how should it be used?
What is Raw Shilajit, and how should it be used?
Raw Shilajit is a resin harvested from high‑altitude Himalayan rocks. It forms from decomposed plant material and is rich in minerals and fulvic acid. Traditionally used as an adaptogen, Shilajit helps boost energy, improve stamina and support overall health. Purishh provides 100 % pure Himalayan shilajit. Users typically dissolve a pea‑sized amount in warm water, tea or milk. Due to its potent minerals, start with a small dose and consult a healthcare professional if you have existing medical conditions.
What is the Ishh Leaky Gut Protocol?
What is the Ishh Leaky Gut Protocol?
The Ishh Leaky Gut Protocol is a step‑by‑step program designed to help restore gut health naturally. It includes dietary recommendations, lifestyle tips and natural supplements to support the intestinal lining. The protocol focuses on removing irritants, replenishing beneficial bacteria and repairing the gut barrier. It is not a medical treatment, so customers with chronic digestive issues should consult a healthcare professional before starting.
How should I store Purishh products?
How should I store Purishh products?
Store supplements and protein powders in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. Skincare products like Raw Honey Butter and Raw Tallow Sunbalm are natural and free from artificial stabilizers; keeping them at room temperature helps maintain texture. If you live in a hot climate, refrigerating tallow‑based balms can prevent melting. Always use clean hands or a spatula to avoid introducing bacteria.
When will my order ship, and how long will delivery take?
When will my order ship, and how long will delivery take?
Purishh asks customers to allow 2–3 business days for processing and production before an order ships. Once dispatched, average transit times are 7–10 business days; however, natural disasters, holidays and weather can cause delays. Free standard shipping is offered on orders over US$150 (or equivalent), and shipping costs for smaller orders are calculated at checkout. Purishh cannot guarantee exact delivery dates because delivery is ultimately the responsibility of the shipping carrier.
Can I subscribe and save on regular purchases?
Can I subscribe and save on regular purchases?
Yes. Purishh offers a subscription program for products like protein powder. Subscribing gives 10 % off the regular price, and you can choose delivery intervals (e.g., monthly). Subscriptions auto‑renew, but you may skip or cancel at any time through your account.
Are Purishh products allergen‑free or suitable for special diets?
Are Purishh products allergen‑free or suitable for special diets?
Purishh formulates products without common synthetic additives, but some items may contain potential allergens. The protein powder contains whey (a dairy product) and collagen derived from bovine sources; it is unsuitable for vegans or those with dairy allergies. The Electrolytes formula is gluten‑free, sugar‑free and keto‑friendly. Always review ingredient lists carefully and consult your healthcare provider if you have specific allergies or dietary restrictions.
Where are Purishh products made?
Where are Purishh products made?
Purishh sources ingredients globally, such as New Zealand Wagyu tallow and Himalayan shilajit, but manufactures products in small batches under rigorous quality control. By keeping production small and hands‑on, Purishh can maintain freshness and ensure every batch meets the highest standards.
Pür Insights
Reading a Certificate of Analysis: A Plain-English Guide
We've referenced a Certificate of Analysis in almost every post we've published this month. Creatine at 4,976 milligrams against a 5,000 milligram label claim. Magnesium glycinate at 250 milligrams, verified rather than assumed. Shilajit testing authentic, at 72 percent fulvic acid. Heavy metals reported down to the hundred-thousandth of a milligram. Even the pH numbers behind our shampoo and conditioner came from these same kinds of reports. What we haven't done yet is show you how to actually read one of these documents yourself. That's the point of this post, and it's a deliberately different kind of post than everything else we've published this month. The others were about a specific ingredient or product. This one is about the paperwork itself, the thing underneath every claim we've made so far, and how to make sense of it whether it's ours or someone else's entirely. We're doing this now, at the end of the month, on purpose. Not because we expect you to become a lab chemist, but because a brand that's willing to teach you how to check its own homework is making a genuinely different kind of claim than a brand that just asks you to trust the label. So here's the plain-English version: what a Certificate of Analysis actually is, what its parts mean, what it can't tell you no matter how official it looks, and a real, worked example using one of our own reports from start to finish. What a COA actually is, in one sentence A Certificate of Analysis is a signed record from a laboratory stating what it measured in one specific sample, from one specific batch, on one specific date, using named testing methods, compared against named specifications. Every word in that sentence is doing real work, and it's worth slowing down on each one, because most of the confusion around these documents comes from skipping past what they're actually scoped to cover. One specific sample means the lab tested a portion of one batch, not every single unit that batch produced. One specific batch means the result describes that batch and only that batch, not the brand's entire product line or every future batch made under the same name. One specific date means the result is a snapshot, not a standing guarantee that holds indefinitely. Named testing methods means the lab used a defined, repeatable process, not an informal check. Named specifications means the result was measured against an actual numeric limit or target, not just eyeballed and pronounced fine. Put those pieces together and you get something genuinely useful: a real, checkable data point, the kind you can hold up against a specific number and a specific date rather than a general impression. What you don't get is a certification, a guarantee, or a promise about anything beyond the sample actually tested. We made that distinction early in building out this whole content series, and it's worth repeating here because it's the single most common confusion in this entire category: a lab's Certificate of Analysis and a certifying body's certification, like USDA Organic, are different documents from different kinds of organizations, and they tell you different things. A COA tells you what a testing lab found. A certification tells you a brand met an accredited body's defined standard, usually through an ongoing audit relationship rather than a one-time test. Neither one substitutes for the other. The anatomy of a COA, section by section Formats vary between labs, sometimes quite a bit, but most Certificates of Analysis share a common structure once you know what to look for. The identification block. This is usually the first thing on the page: product name, batch or lot number, manufacturing date, the date the sample was received by the lab, and a description of what was actually submitted for testing. The lot number is the single most important piece of information in this entire block, because it's the thing that ties everything below it to one specific production run. A document with no lot number, or a lot number that doesn't match what's printed on the product in front of you, isn't telling you anything about that specific item, however official the rest of the page looks. It's worth sitting with why this matters as much as it does. Two jars of the exact same product, made a year apart, can genuinely differ, a slightly different raw material shipment, a different point in a supplier's harvest cycle, a small shift in one processing step. That's not a sign of a poorly run operation, it's just the reality of working with real ingredients rather than synthetic ones manufactured to identical spec every time. A lot number is what lets a testing report stay honest about that reality instead of implying a single good result applies forever. When you see a Certificate of Analysis with a clear lot number, that's a document making a specific, checkable claim. When you see one without it, or a "lab tested" badge with no document behind it at all, that's a much vaguer promise wearing the same visual language as a specific one. Who ran the test, and under what accreditation. A legitimate lab typically states its accreditation directly on the document, most commonly ISO/IEC 17025, an international standard for testing and calibration laboratory competence, alongside an accreditation number issued by a recognized accrediting body. In the documents behind our own catalog, that shows up as things like a PJLA accreditation number from Perry Johnson Laboratory Accreditation, or an A2LA certificate number from the American Association for Laboratory Accreditation. This section is also where you check for independence: does the lab's address match the brand's own facility, or is it a genuinely separate company? A test run by the brand on itself, however carefully done, is not the same thing as an independent Certificate of Analysis, even if the resulting document looks similar. The test, method, specification, and result table. This is the actual substance of the document, and it's built from four columns that each mean something distinct. The test column names what was measured, heavy metals, protein content, microbial counts, whatever's relevant to that product. The method column names how it was measured, and this matters more than people usually assume, since different methods carry different levels of precision and reliability. ICP-MS, short for inductively coupled plasma mass spectrometry, is the method you'll see behind most trustworthy heavy metal results, and it's considered a gold standard for detecting trace elements at extremely low concentrations. The Kjeldahl method is the recognized standard for measuring protein content through nitrogen analysis, which is what verified the protein claim on our own protein powder. USP and NF references, standing for the United States Pharmacopeia and National Formulary, point to standardized testing procedures maintained by an independent, non-profit scientific organization that sets quality benchmarks used across the pharmaceutical and supplement industries; seeing a USP method cited is a sign the lab is following an established, external protocol rather than an informal, in-house one it invented itself. The specification column states the limit or target the result is being measured against, sometimes a maximum allowed amount, sometimes a target range, sometimes simply "report result" when the point of the test is to disclose a value rather than pass or fail it against a fixed number. That last distinction is worth knowing, since a document phrased as "report result" is doing something slightly different than one with a hard numeric limit, and it's worth reading which kind of test you're actually looking at rather than assuming every line works the same way. The result column is what was actually found. A document that only shows results with no specification listed next to them isn't giving you anything to measure those results against, which means you can't actually tell whether anything passed or failed. It's numbers without context, which looks precise and scientific while actually telling you very little. Signatures and approval. Most legitimate reports show two names, one for who prepared the report and a separate one for who reviewed or approved it. That separation exists for a reason: it's an internal check, one person's work reviewed by someone else before the document is finalized, rather than a single person certifying their own work with nobody else looking at it. The legal boilerplate at the bottom, and why it's actually useful to you. Nearly every Certificate of Analysis includes a line stating the report may not be reproduced or used in advertising or sale without written authorization from the lab. This isn't a red flag or something to be suspicious of. It's standard practice that protects the lab from having its name attached to marketing claims it didn't sign off on. What it actually means for you as a reader: a brand generally can't just staple a raw lab PDF onto its website as a marketing asset without that lab's permission. This is part of why you'll usually see brands, including us, summarize and describe what a report found rather than posting the literal document, and it's worth knowing that distinction exists rather than wondering why a summary is being offered instead of a raw file. The microbial panel, decoded One section shows up on nearly every COA we've referenced this month, and we've never actually explained what the individual names mean. It's worth doing here, since it's genuinely useful outside of our own catalog too. Total plate count, sometimes called total aerobic count, is a broad measure of how much bacteria overall is present, regardless of type, expressed in colony-forming units per gram. Yeast and mold count works the same way for fungal contamination. Both of these are checked against a maximum allowed number rather than requiring zero, since some baseline microbial presence is normal and expected in most raw ingredients; the question is whether it stays under a safe threshold, not whether it's completely absent. The named pathogens, E. coli, Salmonella, Staphylococcus aureus, Pseudomonas aeruginosa, and Candida albicans among the ones that show up most often, are different from the broad counts above. These are checked for outright presence or absence, not a tolerable range, because there's no acceptable amount of any of them in a finished product. A result reading "absent" or "negative" on each of these is what you want to see, and it's worth knowing that this is a straightforward pass or fail rather than a sliding scale the way the broad bacterial and mold counts are. Different labs, different layouts, same underlying logic One honest thing worth knowing before you go looking at COAs from any brand: there is no single universal template. Across our own catalog alone, the format changes noticeably from lab to lab. A dietary supplement COA typically centers on that test, method, specification, result table described above. A cosmetic product's documentation often looks a little different, usually pairing a physical properties table, pH, viscosity, appearance, with a separate attestation page confirming compliance with cosmetic regulations and listing the ingredient composition. International sourcing adds another layer of variation entirely; a raw material sourced from outside the US may be tested against a completely different regulatory framework, different reference standards, and a different set of required markers specific to that country's food or supplement safety rules, format and vocabulary shifting accordingly. None of that variation means one format is more trustworthy than another. It means the specific layout is less important than the underlying logic: a real sample, a real batch, real methods, real specifications, a real result, and a real, checkable source behind all of it. Once you're looking for that logic instead of a specific template, you can make sense of a COA regardless of which lab produced it, which country it came from, or which specific product category it's describing, whether that's a capsule, a cream, or a bar of soap. Three questions worth asking of any COA, from us or from anyone else Is the lab actually independent and accredited? Look for a named accreditation, ISO/IEC 17025 is the one to recognize, and a lab address that isn't the same as the brand's own headquarters. If a report doesn't name an accreditation at all, or if the testing was done in-house by the same company selling the product, that's a materially different document than an independent third-party Certificate of Analysis, even if it uses similar language. Does the batch number on the document match what's actually in front of you? We've written elsewhere about why testing every flavor and every batch separately matters, and this is the practical version of that principle: a Certificate of Analysis only speaks for the specific batch it names. A report with no batch number, or the same static report reused indefinitely regardless of what's currently on the shelf, isn't really batch-level verification. It's one good result from the past, presented as if it still applies. Do the individual lines actually pass their own individual specifications? This is the single most important habit to build, and the one most people skip. A document stamped "approved" or "pass" at the top doesn't guarantee that every single line inside it is actually within spec. Imagine a report where nearly every test comes back comfortably within its stated limit, except one line where the result sits slightly above the number printed right next to it in the specification column, and the document is still stamped approved at the top regardless. That's exactly the kind of detail a quick glance at the summary would miss entirely, and exactly why reading every line against its own specification matters more than trusting a stamp. If you ever find a mismatch like that on any product, from any brand, that's worth a direct question to the company before you draw any conclusions about the product itself, since it could be a supplier error, an outdated specification, or something that genuinely needs correcting, but it's not something a top-line "approved" is entitled to wave away on your behalf. What a COA can't tell you, no matter how official it looks A Certificate of Analysis tells you what was measured in one batch. It doesn't tell you an ingredient is "the best," since that's a comparative, subjective claim no lab test measures. It doesn't tell you a product is clinically proven to do anything specific, that requires an actual human clinical trial, a completely different kind of document with a completely different kind of evidence behind it. It doesn't guarantee that every future batch will read identically, which is exactly why testing needs to happen on an ongoing basis rather than once. And it doesn't tell you an ingredient is certified organic, kosher, or any other accredited status; those come from certifying bodies through their own separate process, not from a testing lab's Certificate of Analysis. Knowing what these documents can't do is just as useful as knowing what they can. A brand that shows you real batch-level testing and is upfront about what that testing doesn't cover is telling you something meaningfully different than a brand implying its lab reports prove more than they actually do. A worked example, start to finish Let's walk through an actual report behind our own catalog, using the numbers exactly as they appeared. The identification block: Creatine Monohydrate, lot number 341125, manufactured 11/29/2025, best by date 11/2028. That lot number is what ties everything below it specifically to that production run, not to creatine in general or to every tub we've ever shipped. The specification and result table: creatine monohydrate specified at 5,000 milligrams, tested using HPLC, high-performance liquid chromatography, a standard analytical method for measuring compound concentration precisely. The result came back at 4,976 milligrams, comfortably inside the 10 percent tolerance standard for this kind of testing. Sodium was specified at 40 milligrams, tested via ICP-MS, and came back at 39.85 milligrams. Microbial testing covered total plate count, E. coli, yeast and mold, and salmonella, each with its own specification and each returning a result marked conforming. Signatures: prepared by one named individual, approved by a second, separate name, both dated the same day. That's the whole document, and notice what it does and doesn't tell you. It tells you this specific batch of creatine monohydrate contained very close to its labeled dose, tested by a method appropriate for that measurement, and came back clean on the microbial markers checked. It doesn't tell you creatine is the best supplement on the market. It doesn't tell you this exact result applies to a tub you might buy eight months from now, made from a different batch. It tells you exactly what it tested, on exactly the batch it names, and nothing more than that, which is precisely the right amount of confidence to place in it. Why we're teaching you this instead of just summarizing it We could have spent this whole month simply telling you "trust our lab results" and left it there. We'd rather you know how to actually check the receipts yourself, on our products and on anyone else's. A Certificate of Analysis is a genuinely useful, genuinely limited document, and understanding exactly where that usefulness starts and stops is worth more than any summary we could give you of what ours say. That's really the whole point of a month built around these documents rather than around marketing copy describing them. The paperwork was always meant to be something you could learn to read yourself, not something you were supposed to take our word for. If you take one habit away from this whole month of posts, let it be this: ask for the batch number, ask who ran the test, and read every line against its own specification rather than trusting the stamp at the top. That one habit will serve you on every supplement and cosmetic shelf you ever stand in front of, ours included, long after you've forgotten any specific number from any specific post.
Learn moreWhat's Really in Our Shampoo and Conditioner
Most hair care ingredient lists fall into one of two traps. Either they're a wall of chemical names nobody outside a formulation lab can parse, or they're a vague "botanical blend" that sounds nice and tells you nothing. We think both are a little dishonest in their own way, one by overwhelming you, the other by underexplaining, and both leave you exactly where you started: trusting the front of the bottle instead of understanding what's actually inside it. So here's the actual ingredient list behind our shampoo and conditioner, what each thing is doing, what's genuinely well-supported, and what's more of a nice-to-have than a proven active. We're also going to start somewhere most hair care content skips entirely: pH, because it turns out to be one of the more consequential and least discussed things in the whole bottle, and because the two numbers behind it are things we can actually point to a lab report for rather than ask you to take on faith. Why pH is the first thing worth understanding Hair, like skin, has a natural pH environment it's built to function in, generally in the slightly acidic range, and the outermost layer of a hair strand, the cuticle, behaves very differently depending on where the product you just rinsed through it sits on that scale. The cuticle is made of overlapping scales, similar in concept to shingles on a roof. At a lower, more acidic pH, those scales lie flatter against the hair shaft, which is what produces smoothness, shine, and reduced tangling, since flat scales create less friction against each other and against neighboring strands. At a higher, more alkaline pH, the scales lift and swell open, which increases porosity, roughens the surface, and makes hair more prone to frizz, tangling, and moisture loss, since an open cuticle lets more water in and out uncontrollably rather than holding it where it belongs. Color-treated or chemically processed hair tends to be especially sensitive to this, since the cuticle is often already somewhat lifted or damaged from the processing itself, which is part of why pH-conscious formulation matters even more for hair that's already been through a color or straightening service. This isn't a new discovery, but it's a relatively recent one in the history of hair care. Traditional bar soap, and a lot of early shampoo formulations, were meaningfully alkaline, often in the pH 8 to 10 range, because they were built primarily around cleaning power rather than cuticle behavior. The shift toward "pH-balanced" formulations in cosmetic chemistry happened specifically because researchers connected that alkaline environment to the rougher, more tangled, more damaged-feeling hair that came with regular use of those older formulas. It's a genuine example of the industry correcting itself once the mechanism was understood, rather than a marketing term invented after the fact. Our shampoo tested at a pH of 5.84, within its 5.5 to 6.5 specification. Our conditioner tested at 5.16, within its 4.5 to 5.5 specification. Both land in the range associated with a closed, smooth cuticle rather than an open, roughened one. That's not a marketing detail, it's a measured, lab-confirmed fact about how these products are likely to interact with the actual structure of your hair, and it's the piece of information we think matters more than almost anything else on the ingredient list. What's actually cleaning your hair A shampoo's job starts with its surfactants, the ingredients that actually lift oil, product buildup, and dirt off your scalp and hair so water can rinse them away. This is also where a lot of "clean" hair care marketing gets vague, so we want to be specific. Our shampoo uses a combination of what's listed as sodium cocoyl isethionate, cocamidopropyl betaine, and an ingredient derived from coconut and lactic acid in the lactylate family. Sodium cocoyl isethionate is a coconut-derived surfactant known in cosmetic chemistry for being one of the gentler cleansing agents available, producing a rich lather without the more aggressive defatting effect of harsher surfactants like sodium lauryl sulfate, which strips oil from hair and scalp more completely than most people's hair actually needs or wants. Cocamidopropyl betaine is an amphoteric surfactant, meaning it carries both a positive and negative charge depending on the surrounding pH, and it's widely used specifically because it boosts lather and mildness when paired with a primary cleanser like sodium cocoyl isethionate, without adding much cleansing harshness of its own. It shows up in a huge share of gentle and baby shampoo formulations for exactly this reason. Here's an honesty point worth stating plainly, because it connects to something we've said elsewhere about this brand: every one of these surfactants, however they're sourced, is a manufactured, chemically transformed molecule. Coconut oil doesn't naturally lather and clean hair on its own; it has to be chemically processed, through reactions like sulfonation or amidation, into a genuinely different compound before it functions as a surfactant. Calling the starting material organic is accurate and meaningful for sourcing. It doesn't mean the finished ingredient in the bottle is unprocessed or "not a chemical." We'd rather you understand that distinction than let "organic" quietly imply something about the finished formula that isn't true, and it's the same distinction we've drawn everywhere else in this catalog rather than one we're applying selectively to hair care. There's also a simpler, more practical reason we didn't reach for the harshest, most aggressive cleansing option available. Sulfates like sodium lauryl sulfate clean thoroughly, sometimes more thoroughly than hair actually benefits from, stripping natural oils along with dirt and product buildup and leaving both hair and scalp drier than they started. For most people washing a few times a week, a gentler system that cleans effectively without over-stripping tends to leave hair in better condition over time, which is the actual reasoning behind choosing a milder surfactant combination rather than a marketing preference for one label over another. The moisture layer: aloe, honey, and glycerin Once you're past the cleansing agents, the rest of the shampoo formula is built around retaining and restoring moisture, since even a gentle cleanser removes some. Aloe vera gel is a genuine humectant with a real, if modest, research base for skin and scalp hydration and calming irritation, which is part of why it shows up across such a wide range of personal care categories, from sunburn treatments to daily moisturizers to, here, a shampoo base. Honey works similarly as a humectant, drawing and holding moisture, and carries some of the same mild antibacterial properties we've written about elsewhere in the context of our raw honey products, though at whatever concentration it's included here, its role is primarily about moisture retention rather than a standalone antimicrobial treatment for the scalp. Glycerin is one of the most well-established humectants in all of cosmetic chemistry, cheap, effective, and backed by decades of formulation research showing it reliably draws water into hair and skin from the surrounding environment. It's a genuinely unglamorous ingredient that does real, unglamorous work, and it deserves more credit than it gets simply because it isn't novel or exciting enough to headline a marketing campaign. Hydrolyzed quinoa protein is a less common addition, and it's worth explaining what protein hydrolysates actually do in hair care generally, since the mechanism is genuinely interesting rather than just a buzzword. Hair that's damaged, whether from heat, color, or mechanical stress, develops gaps and rough spots in its outer cuticle layer. Small protein fragments, hydrolyzed down to a size that can actually adhere to or partially penetrate those gaps, temporarily fill them in, which is what produces the smoother feel and improved manageability people notice after using a protein-containing product. Quinoa protein specifically is a less commonly used source compared to the wheat or keratin hydrolysates more typical of this category, but the underlying mechanism, small peptide fragments filling cuticle gaps, doesn't depend on which plant or source the protein originally came from. This is a real, well-understood mechanism, and it's also worth being clear that the effect is temporary and cosmetic, restoring feel and manageability between washes rather than permanently repairing the hair's internal structure. The oil layer in our conditioner Our conditioner is built around a blend of plant oils, each with a genuine reason for being there, calibrated honestly rather than oversold. Olive oil and camellia oil both carry a fatty acid profile dominated by oleic acid, which helps smooth the cuticle surface and adds shine, similar in concept to how we've discussed oleic acid's role in skin emolliency elsewhere. Camellia oil specifically has a long history of traditional use in East Asian hair care, valued for a similar smoothing, shine-enhancing effect, and often described anecdotally as helping protect hair from environmental dryness, though the modern clinical research quantifying that specific benefit is limited compared to how long the ingredient has been used. Sweet almond oil and avocado oil are both gentle, vitamin E-containing emollients that help seal moisture into the hair shaft; avocado oil in particular is prized in hair care for a rich, slightly heavier feel that suits drier or coarser hair types especially well, and its vitamin E content contributes some antioxidant protection against the kind of oxidative stress UV exposure and heat styling place on hair fiber over time. Castor oil deserves a specific, honest note, since it's become one of the most hyped hair ingredients online over the past few years, often credited with dramatically accelerating hair growth. The actual clinical evidence for that specific claim is thin, largely anecdotal rather than backed by controlled human trials. What castor oil reliably does, and does well, is act as a thick, highly emollient sealant, thanks to an unusually high concentration of ricinoleic acid, higher than almost any other common carrier oil, which gives hair a smoother, shinier, more coated feel. That's a real, useful cosmetic effect. It's a different claim from "regrows hair faster," and we'd rather you know which one we're actually making. Jojoba oil is worth a specific mention too, because it isn't technically an oil at all in the strict chemical sense, it's a liquid wax ester, which puts it in a different molecular category than the triglyceride-based oils listed above. That structural difference matters because wax esters are also a component of human sebum, the oil your scalp naturally produces, which is the same "structurally similar to what your body already makes" argument we've made elsewhere about tallow and skin. It's a genuinely interesting parallel, and it's part of why jojoba shows up so frequently in scalp-focused formulations specifically. The actives worth a closer, more careful look This is where evidence quality varies the most, and where we want to be the most precise. Biotin appears in both our shampoo and conditioner, and it's worth being straightforward about it: biotin deficiency is genuinely rare in people eating a reasonably varied diet, and when hair thinning is actually caused by a biotin deficiency, supplementation helps meaningfully. But for the much larger group of people without an actual deficiency, the evidence that additional biotin, especially applied topically in a rinse-off product rather than taken orally, meaningfully strengthens or grows hair is weak. Biotin's popularity in hair care marketing has grown well ahead of the research specifically testing topical application, which is a gap worth naming rather than smoothing over. We include it because it's a well-tolerated, low-risk ingredient with a long history of use in this category, not because we think it's doing dramatic, measurable work on its own. Panthenol, listed here as vitamin B5, sits in a more genuinely earned middle ground, and it's worth being specific about exactly which claims earn that credit and which don't. As a humectant and film-forming conditioning agent, its evidence is solid: it's water-soluble, penetrates into the hair shaft rather than just sitting on the surface, and has been shown in formulation research to reduce protein loss from processes like coloring and improve moisture retention, shine, and manageability. That's a real, well-supported cosmetic effect, and it's the reason panthenol has stuck around in hair care for decades rather than being a passing trend, closely enough associated with hair conditioning that one of the largest hair care brands in the world built its name around it. Where the evidence gets thinner is in growth or thickness claims specifically; those exist mostly in small combination-product studies where panthenol was one ingredient among several alongside things like salicylic acid or niacinamide, which makes it genuinely hard to credit panthenol alone for whatever result the combination produced. We're comfortable standing behind panthenol as a genuinely effective moisture and manageability ingredient. We're not going to tell you it thickens or regrows hair on its own, because the research that would actually support that specific claim, isolating panthenol by itself, doesn't really exist yet. Rosemary and peppermint essential oils round out the conditioner's actives, and this is worth handling with real care because rosemary oil specifically has become one of the most repeated hair-growth claims on the internet over the past few years. The claim traces back to a single 2015 randomized trial, led by researcher Yunes Panahi and published in the journal SKINmed, comparing rosemary oil against 2 percent minoxidil in people with androgenetic alopecia over six months. Both groups showed a significant increase in hair count with no meaningful difference between them, and the rosemary group reported less scalp itching. That's a real, peer-reviewed, legitimately interesting finding. It's also a single study, and it's worth naming a specific methodological gap rather than just gesturing at "limitations": the trial compared rosemary oil to minoxidil directly, without a third, no-treatment group to confirm that either treatment was actually responsible for the change rather than some portion of it reflecting natural fluctuation over six months. That design tells you rosemary performed similarly to minoxidil in this one trial. It doesn't fully tell you how either would have compared to doing nothing at all, and it hasn't been robustly replicated at the same scale since. Peppermint oil carries a smaller, similarly early research base, mostly around its cooling, tingling sensation and some evidence of increased local blood flow to the area it's applied to, a plausible but not definitively proven mechanism for supporting scalp health that deserves the same measured treatment as everything else discussed here. Just as important: that 2015 study applied pure rosemary oil directly to the scalp via dropper, at a specific, concentrated dose, held in contact with the scalp rather than rinsed away minutes later. A rosemary-infused conditioner, used as a rinse-off product at whatever diluted concentration a finished formulation carries, is a meaningfully different delivery method than the protocol that single study actually tested. We include rosemary and peppermint here for their traditional use in scalp care and their pleasant, functional scent, and because they're genuinely well-tolerated ingredients with a long history of use. We're not going to tell you our conditioner replicates a clinical trial it was never tested against. What "organic" means on this list, specifically Every ingredient here is listed as organic, reflecting the sourcing of the raw material, and we want to be exactly as precise about that as we've been elsewhere. This describes the ingredient sourcing, not a certified organic status for the finished, blended product, and it isn't a claim that every ingredient in its finished form is unprocessed. Several of the surfactants discussed above are a clear example: genuinely derived from organic coconut sources, and also genuinely put through real chemical transformation to become the cleansing agents they are in the final bottle. Both things are true at once, and we'd rather say so than let the word "organic" do more implying than it's entitled to. What the lab actually verified, and what it didn't Our shampoo and conditioner were both tested by an independent lab and confirmed compliant with FDA cosmetic regulations, including the Modernization of Cosmetics Regulation Act of 2022, the most significant expansion of FDA oversight over cosmetics in decades, covering facility registration, ingredient safety substantiation, and mandatory adverse event reporting. Beyond that compliance confirmation, both products were verified on physical specifications, appearance, pH, density, and viscosity, all within their stated ranges, and on microbial safety, with total bacterial count and mold and yeast both coming back well under their respective limits on each product. What that testing doesn't include is a clinical efficacy trial on the finished formula itself, for shine, growth, strength, or any other specific outcome. It also doesn't include an independent, published breakdown of exact ingredient concentrations, since that composition is held as confidential formulation detail, standard practice across this industry. What we've walked through here is mechanism, honestly graded by the quality of evidence behind each ingredient, not a claim that this exact bottle has been clinically measured against a specific outcome. The honest version, all together A pH that lands in the range associated with a smoother, healthier-behaving cuticle. Gentle, genuinely well-regarded surfactants that clean without stripping, built through real chemical processing regardless of how organic the starting material was. A moisture layer built on humectants with decades of solid formulation evidence behind them. An oil blend with real, if varying, degrees of support depending on which oil and which specific claim you're asking about. And a couple of higher-profile actives, panthenol and rosemary, that deserve real credit for what they're actually shown to do and real restraint on the claims that have grown up around them without the evidence to match, especially where a single small study has been stretched to cover a use case, a rinse-off conditioner rather than a concentrated leave-on application, that it never actually tested. That's the whole list, explained rather than hidden behind either an intimidating wall of chemistry or a vague, feel-good "clean beauty" label. We'd rather you know exactly what you're putting on your head and why, ingredient by ingredient, than have you trust a bottle because the front of it sounds nice.
Learn moreIs Tallow Comedogenic?
This is the question we get the most, and it's usually asked by someone who already has a reason to ask it: a breakout after trying a tallow balm, a dermatologist who raised an eyebrow, or just a healthy skepticism about a trending ingredient that sounds a little too good in most of the content written about it. We're not going to dodge it. The honest answer is: it depends, and the factors it depends on are specific enough to actually be useful, rather than a vague "everyone's skin is different" shrug. So let's go through what comedogenic actually means, where the number everyone repeats actually comes from, what the real evidence says about tallow's fatty acids specifically, a condition that gets confused with regular acne but isn't caused by the same thing, and what actually changes your personal risk. What "comedogenic" actually describes A comedo is the technical term for a clogged pore, the basic unit of both blackheads and whiteheads, and the earliest stage of most acne. It forms when the lining of a hair follicle sheds skin cells abnormally, those cells build up rather than shedding cleanly, and the buildup combines with sebum and sometimes bacteria to block the follicle opening. "Comedogenic" describes an ingredient's tendency to contribute to that process, either by directly blocking the follicle physically or by influencing the follicle lining's behavior in a way that makes blockage more likely. That second mechanism matters more than people usually assume. A comedogenic ingredient isn't necessarily just a thick substance sitting in a pore like a cork. In a lot of cases, it's an ingredient that shifts the composition or behavior of the skin's own oils and cells in a direction that makes normal shedding less efficient. This is a slower, more chemical process than the simple "greasy stuff clogs pores" mental model most people carry around, and it's part of why comedogenicity is genuinely harder to test and predict than it sounds. Where the comedogenicity scale actually comes from The 0 to 5 comedogenicity scale that gets referenced constantly in skincare content has a specific and somewhat shaky origin worth knowing about. It traces back to research from the 1970s, pioneered by dermatologists Albert Kligman and James Fulton, that used a rabbit ear assay: applying a substance to the inside of a rabbit's ear, a location that develops comedones extremely readily, and observing how much blockage resulted compared to a control. Rabbit ear skin is considerably more reactive to comedogenic substances than human facial skin, which means a lot of the comedogenicity ratings in wide circulation today were generated using an animal model with limited predictive value for how the same substance behaves on an actual human face. Subsequent human-use testing has found meaningful mismatches for several ingredients that scored high in rabbit models but showed little comedogenic effect in human trials, and vice versa for some ingredients. This isn't a fringe complaint. A 2025 clinical review in JAAD Reviews, the review journal published under the American Academy of Dermatology, examined comedogenicity testing literature going back to 1972 and reached the same conclusion dermatology researchers have been raising for decades: the rabbit ear assay produces results that don't reliably translate to human skin, most comedogenicity claims still rest on testing isolated ingredients rather than finished formulations, and there's no standardized, regulated process governing which products get to call themselves "non-comedogenic" in the first place. The review's own recommendation was that the field needs real, standardized, human-based testing on actual finished products, which is a fairly direct admission that the numbers everyone quotes, including the ones in this post, are working estimates rather than settled measurements. There's a second problem worth naming: there is no single, universally agreed-upon comedogenicity list. Several different lists circulate online, compiled at different times by different sources, and they don't always agree with each other on the same ingredient. When you see an oil confidently labeled "comedogenic rating: 2" somewhere, that number is doing more work than the underlying research actually supports. It's a rough, directional signal, not a precise, standardized measurement the way a pH reading or a heavy metal test result is. None of this means the concept is useless. It means it should be treated as a starting hypothesis worth testing on your own skin, not a verdict. Here's the part most tallow content skips: tallow itself usually isn't the thing being rated This is the most important thing to understand in this whole conversation, and it rarely gets said plainly. Tallow, as a whole substance, doesn't appear on most standard comedogenicity ingredient lists. It wasn't a common cosmetic ingredient during the era those lists were compiled, and it hasn't been directly run through a rabbit ear assay or an equivalent human comedogenicity trial in any published research we're aware of. What actually happens when someone says "tallow is comedogenic" is an inference: tallow's fatty acid profile, roughly 40 to 50 percent oleic acid, 25 to 30 percent palmitic acid, and 20 to 25 percent stearic acid, gets compared to the individual comedogenicity ratings of those fatty acids in isolation, and the conclusion gets applied to tallow as a whole. That's a reasonable starting point for a hypothesis. It is not the same as tallow itself having been tested and found comedogenic. The distinction matters because isolated fatty acid ratings don't always translate directly to how that fatty acid behaves within a complex triglyceride structure, alongside the other components present in a real substance rather than a purified, single-molecule test sample. We think this distinction is important enough to say clearly, even though it complicates a simple answer: most of what you'll read confidently stated about tallow's comedogenicity, in either direction, is extrapolation from component fatty acids rather than direct measurement of the substance people are actually putting on their face. For a sense of where that estimate lands relative to other common skincare fats: coconut oil is one of the more consistently high-rated oils across most comedogenicity references, generally placed well above where tallow's fatty acid profile lands, driven largely by its lauric and myristic acid content, medium-chain saturated fats more strongly associated with pore blockage than the fatty acids that dominate tallow. Tallow containing very little lauric acid is one of the more consistent points across sources discussing why it tends to be estimated lower than coconut oil despite both being solid, saturated fats at room temperature. That comparison is still built on the same extrapolation logic described above, not a head-to-head human trial, so treat it as directional rather than definitive. The oleic acid question, specifically Given that caveat, oleic acid is still the fatty acid worth paying the most attention to, because there's a real, separate body of research behind it that goes beyond the comedogenicity scale entirely. Dermatology research going back decades has looked at the fatty acid composition of sebum in people with acne compared to people without it. One consistent finding across several studies: acne-prone skin tends to show a relatively lower proportion of linoleic acid in its sebum and epidermal lipids compared to non-acne-prone skin. Linoleic acid is a polyunsaturated fatty acid that appears to support normal follicular cell shedding, and its relative deficiency has been proposed as a contributing factor in comedone formation, alongside the more commonly discussed factors of excess sebum production and inflammation. This research is about the internal composition of a person's own sebum, not about applying an oleic-acid-rich oil topically. The extrapolation some dermatologists make, that adding more oleic acid to the skin's surface could locally shift that ratio further in the direction associated with acne-prone follicles, is a reasonable hypothesis built on real research, but it's an extrapolation, not a direct experimental finding about topical tallow application. We want to be precise about that gap rather than blur it, because the underlying sebum research is genuinely solid, and the leap to "so don't put oleic acid-containing oils on your face" is a real but separate step that deserves its own honesty. Palmitic and stearic acid, the other two major fatty acids in tallow, are generally considered lower risk across most of the informal comedogenicity references available, though again, with the same caveats about the quality and consistency of those references. A different condition entirely: fungal acne Here's a piece of dermatological nuance that almost never comes up in either the pro-tallow or anti-tallow versions of this conversation, and it's worth knowing because it's specific and it's a genuinely different issue from everything discussed above. Malassezia folliculitis, more commonly called fungal acne, isn't caused by the same mechanism as typical acne at all. It's an overgrowth of Malassezia yeast within hair follicles, and it's frequently mistaken for regular acne because it can look similar on the surface, small, uniform, often itchy bumps rather than the more varied lesions typical acne produces. The distinction matters here because Malassezia yeast feeds preferentially on fatty acids within a specific carbon chain length range, and both palmitic acid and stearic acid, tallow's two most abundant components, fall within that range. This doesn't mean tallow causes fungal acne for most people using it. It means that if you have this specific condition, whether it's been diagnosed or you simply suspect it based on small, itchy, uniform bumps that haven't responded to typical acne treatment, that's a meaningfully different consideration than the standard oleic-acid comedogenic conversation, and it's worth raising with a dermatologist directly rather than guessing at the cause yourself. The lipid tallow doesn't have Here's a nuance that rarely comes up in either the pro-tallow or anti-tallow versions of this conversation: the skin barrier's lipid matrix is built from three components, not one. Ceramides, fatty acids, and cholesterol, working together in a specific ratio and structural arrangement. Tallow supplies fatty acids, and rendered tallow's unsaponifiable fraction contains a modest amount of cholesterol. What it doesn't supply is ceramides, which many dermatologists consider the single most important lipid class for barrier integrity specifically, since ceramides make up the largest share of the barrier's lipid structure by weight and play the primary structural role in the lamellar arrangement that keeps water in and irritants out. A moisturizer or balm built entirely around fatty acid content, whatever its source, isn't a complete replica of what the skin barrier actually needs, and framing tallow as a total barrier solution overstates what one component of a three-part system can do on its own. This isn't a reason to dismiss tallow's fatty acid contribution, which is real and chemically sound. It's a reason to be precise about what it is and isn't providing, and to think of it as one supportive input rather than a comprehensive barrier-repair product. Why the formulation matters as much as the ingredient This is the point we think gets the least attention and deserves the most: whether tallow is chemically unmodified or has gone through saponification changes the entire conversation. Our tallow soap isn't tallow applied directly to skin. Soap-making converts the tallow's triglycerides into soap molecules and glycerol through a reaction with an alkali, a process called saponification. The resulting bar is chemically distinct from the starting fat, a cleansing product that's rinsed off rather than left to sit on the skin. Our batch tested at a pH of 10.6, consistent with genuine saponified soap, and it's on the skin for the duration of a wash before being rinsed away entirely. The comedogenic-risk conversation, which is fundamentally about a substance sitting in a pore over time, applies much less to a product that's in contact with skin for under a minute before being washed off completely. A leave-on tallow balm is a different situation. Unmodified triglyceride tallow, left on the skin for hours, has considerably more opportunity to interact with a pore than the same fat converted to soap and rinsed away. If you're specifically concerned about comedogenic risk, which product you're using and how it's meant to be used matters as much as the fact that tallow is somewhere in the ingredient list. Contact time is worth taking seriously as its own variable, separate from the ingredient itself. Two products built around the same raw fat can carry meaningfully different practical risk depending on whether that fat is designed to be worked into a lather and rinsed within a minute, or applied and left to absorb over the following hours while you go about your day. This is part of why a blanket "is tallow comedogenic" question doesn't have one universal answer even before you account for individual skin type: the format the ingredient arrives in changes the exposure your follicles actually experience, sometimes more than the ingredient's underlying chemistry does. Who's actually at meaningful risk Oily and acne-prone skin, particularly in the T-zone, is the group where this conversation is most relevant. If you already produce more sebum than average and already experience regular breakouts, adding a fatty-acid-rich oil to the mix, especially a leave-on one, is a reasonable thing to be cautious about, given both the oleic acid research and the general principle that acne-prone skin tends to respond less favorably to additional oil of most kinds. Dry, normal, and combination skin, particularly away from the T-zone, is a meaningfully lower-risk situation. Skin that's already lipid-deficient has less of the underlying dynamic that makes added oleic acid a theoretical concern, and dry skin types are generally the population most likely to report a positive experience with fat-based emollients in the first place. Body use versus facial use matters too. Facial skin, with its higher concentration of sebaceous glands and its visibility, is where comedogenic concerns actually matter in practice. Tallow-based products used on the body, where sebaceous gland density is lower and breakouts are less commonly reported, carry meaningfully less of this specific risk, independent of the same ingredient's behavior on facial skin. This is part of why a soap that's used all over the body, rather than a facial-specific leave-on product, tends to raise fewer of these concerns even before the saponification point comes into play. How to actually patch test this, properly If you want to find out how your own skin responds rather than relying on any general answer, a real patch test takes a specific, unhurried process, not a single application and a next-morning check. Pick a small, discreet area, behind the ear, along the jawline, or the inside of the forearm, and apply a small amount once daily for at least a week. Comedones don't usually form overnight; they develop over days as the follicle lining changes behavior, so a single-day test tells you about irritation, not about comedogenic response. Watch specifically for small, skin-colored or slightly raised bumps developing in the test area, not just redness or itching, which are signs of irritation rather than comedone formation and mean something different. If you want to test facial tolerance specifically, since forearm skin and facial skin don't always respond identically due to differences in sebaceous gland density, a reasonable second step after a clean forearm test is applying to one small area of the face, like along the jaw, for another week or two before using it more broadly across your whole face. This staged approach costs you some patience and saves you from a face full of new breakouts if your skin turns out to react. What to do if it doesn't agree with you If breakouts do show up during or after a patch test, that's useful information, not a failure on your part or evidence the product is defective. It just means your skin's individual chemistry falls on the more sensitive end of how oleic-acid-containing oils interact with acne-prone follicles, which is a real, known variation between people rather than an unusual or embarrassing reaction to have. Stopping use and allowing a few weeks for your skin to return to baseline is the straightforward response. If breakouts are persistent, severe, or significantly affecting your confidence or wellbeing regardless of what's causing them, that's worth bringing to a dermatologist rather than working through by trial and error with different skincare products. That's true whether the underlying cause turns out to be typical acne, the fungal variant discussed above, or something else entirely that a patch test on its own was never going to identify. We're not going to pretend a blog post is a substitute for that kind of care when it's actually needed. The honest bottom line Tallow, as a whole substance, hasn't been directly tested for comedogenicity in the rigorous way some other cosmetic ingredients have. What gets called its comedogenic rating is really an inference from its component fatty acids, primarily oleic acid, which does have a real, if indirect, connection to acne research through the sebum composition studies. Palmitic and stearic acid, tallow's other major components, carry less of that concern under most comedogenicity references, though they're relevant to a separate condition entirely, fungal acne, which is worth ruling out on its own terms if your bumps look more uniform and itchy than typical breakouts. The skin barrier's full lipid needs include ceramides, which tallow doesn't supply. And whether tallow is chemically unmodified in a leave-on balm or converted through saponification into a rinse-off soap changes the practical risk more than almost any other factor in this whole discussion. If you have oily or acne-prone skin, particularly on your face, we think a careful patch test before regular use is a genuinely sensible precaution, not an overreaction. If you have dry or normal skin, or you're using a tallow-based soap rather than a leave-on product, the concern is considerably smaller. Neither of those is us hedging to avoid a real answer. It's the real answer, because the honest one was never going to be a single word either way, and we'd rather you go in knowing exactly what you're weighing than find out by trial and error on your own face.
Learn more


