Straight talk, indie vibes: The miracle formula boosting Aussie beauty start-ups

This story is part of the March 29 edition of Good Weekend.See all 13 stories.

In a zhuzhed-up former meth lab near Melbourne’s Richmond station, 15 glossy-skinned beauty editors and influencers perch on blue velvet stools at Ultra Violette HQ, rubbing sunscreen on their hands after downing mimosas before midday. Inside the three-storey workspace – bisected by a cyclone-fenced staircase and decorated in the brand’s signature combo of neon pastels and Yves Klein Blue – we gather in the New Product Development area. The desks are pushed back to accommodate us, and the talk is all TGA regulations and cosmetic chemistry.

It’s the launch of Ultra Violette’s Future Fluid, and the co-founders tell the visiting beauty buffs how they’ve sourced special lightweight zinc from Japan for their latest skincare/SPF hybrid. With an explanatory cameo from the in-house chemist, we learn the ingredients include vitamin E derivative tocopheryl acetate and humectant Pentavitin, but we also discuss where the new mineral sunscreen – dubbed a “Hot Girl Preservative” in the press release – ranks on the brand’s “glow-o-meter”. Which just might explain why Ultra Violette has been such a runaway success: that elusive mix of science and magic.

Sunscreen is the number one way to avoid “premature signs of ageing”, but SPF products were always the leafy greens of the beauty world – a boring, begrudgingly bought necessity – until Ultra Violette stepped in six years ago and sexed them up with smart, non-greasy formulations and slick packaging. Co-founders Ava Chandler-Matthews and Rebecca Jefferd spotted the gap in high-end beauty when they were colleagues a decade ago in product development at beauty retailer Mecca. At the time, no one was selling sunscreen as a prestige product: “It was still [displayed in the supermarket] at Christmas time to put in your beach bag and use on the whole family,” says Jefferd. “The formulas were shit,” adds Chandler-Matthews. “The packaging was ugly. The [sun protection] conversation started in October and ended in February. And that’s in Australia, which has the highest skin-cancer rate in the world.”

Melbourne-based Rebecca Jefferd (left) and Ava Chandler-Matthews launched Ultra Violette in 2019; the brand is growing 40 to 50 per cent year-on-year.

The pair knew they were onto a winner. After five months working on the project after hours, they resolved to go all-in, resigning from Mecca in 2017 and coughing up $200,000 each to fund the first minimum order of 40,000 units. That’s a scary amount of sunscreen to sell, especially with expiry dates, but ahead of the January 2019 launch, they scored two press articles. “And that was all we needed,” recalls Chandler-Matthews. “It was explosive.”

Stock they thought would last two months sold out in hours. The phones were blowing up with local and overseas retailers wanting to discuss distribution. Thanks to its Instagram audience, Ultra Violette started out as direct-to-consumer (DTC) but soon – in April 2019 – launched with online retailer Adore Beauty, and with Sephora Australia in February 2020. It’s now stocked in 30 countries, including Harrods, Space NK and Boots in the UK. Global success was always the goal: “It’s important we communicate that we’re from Australia, internationally, because that’s almost like our stamp of approval in sun care,” says Jefferd. Year-on-year, Ultra Violette is growing 40 to 50 per cent; that figure is set to skyrocket with its long-awaited US launch this month.

Last year, US-based Aria Growth Partners invested $15 million in the company; less than a year earlier, L’Oréal had acquired Australian cosmetics brand Aesop for $3.7 billion (the largest ever acquisition for the French conglomerate) and Japan’s Kao Corporation had bought out self-tanning and skincare brand Bondi Sands – a deal reportedly worth $450 million. Although it may not have the same ring to it as South Korea’s K-Beauty, “A-Beauty” does seem to be punching above its weight, with quality products and clever, often out-there marketing. Still, with social media and e-commerce lowering the barriers to entry, how long can Australian entrepreneurs keep shoehorning more beauty products into the market?

Ultra Violette’s founders spotted a gap in the prestige sun-care market, where being Australian is a “stamp of approval” on the international stage.

Appetite is on the up: Australia’s 2024 beauty and personal care revenue – an estimated $11.39 billion – is predicted to grow by a total of $1.8 billion over the next five years, and customers are only getting younger. Not only that, “the Mecca of all Meccas” – hailed as the biggest dedicated beauty store in the world – is due to open in Melbourne’s Bourke Street Mall in May. Calling it “an ode to beauty”, Mecca founder and CEO Jo Horgan is betting the three-level, 4000-square-metre emporium will compel beauty enthusiasts to make a pilgrimage to the CBD, lured by an “apothecary wellness hub”, a salon, perfumery and “Meccaversity” – a 150-seat educational space in a suspended pod. Adore Beauty also has ambitious expansion plans: the 25-year-old online retailer has recently opened its first bricks-and-mortar stores at Melbourne’s Southland and Watergardens, with two dozen more planned over the next three years.

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In decades gone by, the industry was ruled by beauty behemoths like L’Oréal (which owns 36 brands, including Maybelline, Garnier and La Roche-Posay) and Estée Lauder (with 20-plus brands, including Clinique, M.A.C. and The Ordinary). They had the money for glossy magazine ads, and start-ups didn’t stand a chance. These days, though, more and more people are bypassing the faceless multinationals in favour of the upstarts. As Sarah Tarca, the co-founder of beauty newsletter Gloss Etc, says: “It’s an indie-brands world at the moment.”

These personality-driven, socially conscious brands know their targets and are muscling their way in with a different message. Their customers are also “worth it”, but they have finely tuned BS barometers. New York-based Glossier, one of the first DTC beauty companies, spearheaded the movement towards a more simplified approach when it launched in 2014. In Australia the same year, Zoë Foster Blake’s Go-To followed suit with an initial range of five products: “It launched with an extremely tight edit of ‘uncomplicated skincare’,” says Tarca, a former Marie Claire beauty director, “that cut through the hyperbole and the overwhelm of beauty marketing and just kept it simple.”

Foster Blake’s success, of course, is the stuff of beauty-industry legend: Go-To won a cult following, spawned two offshoots (Bro-To for men and Gro-To for kids), and Foster Blake sold a 50.1 per cent share to beauty company BWX in 2021 for $89 million. Two years later, the author and former beauty editor – along with her co-founder Paul Bates – bought back a majority stake for $21.8 million. Foster Blake still writes all the Go-To copy, including what the website describes as the “self-aggrandising drivel” on its About Us page. Acknowledging that skincare can be baffling, she promises “a simple, effective range of skin essentials” without any faux science.

Zoë Foster Blake launched the Go-To brand in 2014. In 2021, she sold a 50.1 per cent stake in it for $89 million.

Tarca says customers appreciate that transparency: while Gen Z brands tend to focus more on inclusivity, the ones that aim for older customers hit the mark with a tell-it-straight approach. “Millennials [and those older] have lived through big-beauty marketing, the Photoshopping, the big taglines and sweeping campaign statements, and have come out the other side feeling a bit empty from it,” she says. “They want shared information, personal recommendations, science, facts. They know a cream won’t have them waking up looking like Kendall Jenner. They just want to know what it can do, and how to make the most of the skin they have.”

Anyone who has ever gone overboard with active ingredients knows that a raw, inflamed face is often the result of using too many products. Melbourne dermatologist Shammi Theesan puts the upsurge in simple, no-nonsense beauty brands down to better awareness of the delicate skin microbiome and how easily it can be disrupted. “The pendulum has shifted – 10 or 15 years ago, it was the multi-step, 10-pronged routine with essence, serum and that layered approach, whereas now the consumer is going for targeted active ingredients that are formulated in one product, [which will] build the skin barrier,” says Theesan, who stresses that sunscreen is non-negotiable.

David Rooney, founder of Melbourne brand Boring Without You. Without the marketing budgets of big-name rivals, he seeks “eyeballs” through social media and viral stunts.

David Rooney argues that a simple routine of no more than four products works best for most people. During the pandemic, the former radio producer and copywriter was struggling with workplace bullying and social isolation when he found comfort in studying cosmetic science. He was shocked to discover the prevalence of dodgy tactics such as “tip-ins” – ingredients added for the “marketing story” but not in high enough concentrations to actually do anything. Rooney also learnt that marketing terms like “clean” beauty essentially mean nothing. When he realised there wasn’t a brand custom-made for combination skin, Rooney co-created Melbourne-based Boring Without You in 2022, vowing to use evidence-based ingredients and clinical testing. Hence, his brand slogan: “Beauty without the bullsh*t.”

Rooney notes that start-ups can’t beat the big conglomerates for innovative new ingredients – La Roche-Posay, for example, last year unveiled Mela B3, a serum targeting dark spots, that contains the brand’s newest proprietary molecule, Melasyl, after 18 years of research – but it’s a level playing field for brands working with existing ingredients. Independent brands also work on a direct connection with their followers: Rooney, for example, personally calls customers four weeks after their first purchase for feedback.

Without the marketing budget of the big guys, Rooney (“SkincareDavey”) has amassed a combined following of 370,000 on TikTok and Instagram with his educational videos, takedowns of popular products in chemist aisles, and stunts that have gone viral. “Back in the day, you’d spend $1 million to get the eyeballs you can get with one video on TikTok,” he says.

Soon after launching, Rooney had a friend apply a treatment mask on a crowded Melbourne commuter train. He filmed her and her fellow passengers’ reactions, then pushed the video out to a content creator on TikTok. It scored 2 million views and was picked up by the Daily Mail and LADbible: “We got people to flood the comments, saying, ‘That’s the Boring Without You mask!’ and our sales saw a massive increase.”

Similarly, in a self-described “moment of madness”, the co-founder of acne treatment brand Tbh Skincare, Rachael Wilde, created a phone-flashing stir in Sydney’s Pitt Street when she donned a pink ensemble and pretended to be Margot Robbie on the day of the Barbie premiere in 2023. She was surrounded by fake security guards, had members of her team shout “Margot!” and the video was viewed 3 million times on the brand’s TikTok account.

For indie companies without endless capital, that kind of guerrilla marketing can make all the difference. In fact, marketing is the only difference in the case of start-ups that peddle white-label products. These generic formulations, sold under multiple brand names, mean a small-time influencer, for instance, could start their own brand relatively cheaply, flog a run-of-the-mill product, and leverage their fan base. Skincare sales, especially of DTC brands, went berserk during the lockdowns – when TikTok and contract manufacturers were also on the rise. These manufacturers offer entrepreneurs a one-stop shop that designs packaging, formulates products and makes them in smaller, more affordable batches than the large, legacy manufacturers.

“Pair that with organic marketing strategies, and you had the perfect recipe for every aspiring entrepreneur to have their own skincare brand,” says Niamh Mooney, founder of Software, a telehealth-centred skincare company. After working as a corporate lawyer in London, Mooney moved back to Australia when COVID-19 broke out, bringing the tele-dermatology model home with her. Part of digital healthcare company Eucalyptus, Software was an instant success when it launched in August 2020; it initially focused only on prescription-grade skincare but expanded to over-the-counter products, now stocked in Priceline. Tretinoin, a prescription-strength form of vitamin A found in Software products, is clinically proven to treat acne and fine lines, so Mooney says she feels confident promoting her Software brand. A lot of other skincare ingredients, however, don’t have the science to back them up. “I became a bit jaded with the industry because so much of it is just marketing talk,” she says. “There are many brands that are bottles full of false promises.” Still, efficacy is only one element of a product’s appeal. “People do buy into missions and visions around a brand,” says Mooney.

Niamh Mooney founded Software skincare after becoming weary of skincare-industry “marketing talk”.

Missions don’t get much more ambitious – or perhaps puzzling – than that of cosmetics brand Fluff. It preaches sustainability and conscious consumption, while selling products it tells customers they don’t need. As founder Erika Geraerts says, “This simplified-product trend is still beauty brands selling to a customer – the other thing they could say is, ‘Just don’t wear make-up.’ It’s why we’re called Fluff – it’s an unnecessary thing, but it’s fun, it makes us feel good.”

The brand’s philosophy? “It’s OK to feel ‘more’ with make-up, so long as you don’t feel ‘less’ without it.” Fluff sells three multi-use, vegan products: lip oil, blush and bronzer, each held in a weighty refillable compact that resembles a sculptural, mirrored stone, and doubles as a fidget toy. The website is only open for sales four times a year – to “encourage intentional, mindful purchasing” and to free up time for the Fluff team to create content.

One of five friends who started hit skincare brand Frank Body in 2013, Geraerts says Fluff has taken seven years to reach the same level of success Frank Body enjoyed after one. “We have a very backward business model,” says Geraerts, who sells mostly to US customers. “We’ve had to accept our growth will be very slow. We’ve become known as rebels in the beauty industry – very counter-culture.” It can be hard, though, for founders to stick to their guns when a business grows, and other stakeholders want the product range to expand; Go-To’s Foster Blake, she notes, always said she’d never release an eye cream, and ended up selling an eye serum. Geraerts, who is 35, refuses to make a Fluff foundation or concealer because she says women don’t need to cover their freckles or blemishes.

Erika Geraerts, founder of the Fluff cosmetics brand: “We’ve become known as rebels in the beauty industry – very counter-culture.”

I wonder if she’ll still feel the same in 20 years’ time. After all, societal acceptance of middle-aged faces seems a long way off. Baywatch alum Pamela Anderson (who happens to have her own “mindful, minimal” skincare brand, Sonsie) apparently deserves a Victoria Cross for braving the red-carpet sans make-up, while ex-Family Ties actor and fellow 50-something, Justine Bateman, is derided as a raisin-faced crone for having the audacity to not freeze or fill her wrinkles. The takeaway? You can look nude-faced, but you have to master the art of “no-make-up make-up” – and make sure you’re slapping it on pore-free, pre-pubescent dolphin skin.

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Being a woman is exhausting. The other day, an Insta post asked if I was a “sagger, sinker or wrinkler”; I don’t believe my husband gets quizzed about his own special kind of facial decrepitude. Just yesterday, one of my favourite podcasters informed me that our skulls shrink as we age, along with 30 per cent of our collagen in the first five years of menopause. Which brings us to the inconvenient crux of it. As The New York Times beauty culture critic Jessica DeFino puts it: “You’re gonna die someday, no matter how young you look.” It’s a radical idea, but maybe we could try accepting that.

Go to the website of Perth-based AntiBeauty and you’ll see, among others, an image of a happy, ordinary-looking 70-something woman with the headline, “Hey Beautiful!”. Founder Benjamyn Gardner – a make-up artist and ex-drag queen who went by the stage name Elle Niño – wanted to challenge traditional beauty ideals and celebrate uniqueness, but couldn’t reconcile a self-acceptance message with selling make-up, so started a skincare line instead. When Australians were allowed to dip into their superannuation during the pandemic, Gardner withdrew $10,000 to create AntiBeauty during Perth’s lockdown, doing it all themself. Back at work on the beauty counter of a department store, the boss got wind of Gardner’s side-hustle and the retail job disappeared. “I was relying on still having that income,” says Gardner, “so I didn’t have any money to grow the business that I’d just spent all my money on.”

Gardner was accepted into business accelerator programs, and AntiBeauty is now sold on Woolworths’ online platform, but there’s not enough capital to supply Woolworths stores. Not only is Gardner bootstrapping the business after periods of homelessness and domestic violence, they have also encountered anti-queer prejudice and exclusion from the business boys’ club: “I hope I don’t sound like a Debbie Downer … but it’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done – much more difficult than being homeless.” Promoted as “plant-based, science-backed skincare created to inspire confidence”, the brand publishes only verified reviews and untouched images.

Realism, though, may not be enough to win over beauty aficionados. “I don’t think we’re that evolved yet,” says You Beauty podcast host Kelly McCarren. “When you really love your products, you kind of love the fantasy of it. You love the whole process of putting on your skincare and [thinking], ‘I’ll look like a glass-skinned, glazed doughnut in the morning.’ ”

New independent brands are launching all the time, but beauty is far from a sure thing. Alice Wells Clennett, an authority on Australian beauty investments, says, “It’s easy come, easy go … but hard to stay,” especially for brands with cheaper, off-the-shelf formulations. “Of course, we cannot create formulations like Shiseido in Japan, which has eight storeys of PhDs in labs, but we also don’t need to compete with that – that’s the very top end,” she says. “All you need to make a great formulation is a great chemist, and we’ve got excellent chemists.”

As the MD of Melbourne boutique advisory and investment firm, Lempriere Wells, she matches Australian companies with overseas investors to help them break into new markets and has worked with brands such as Frank Body, Grown Alchemist and Coco & Eve. Wells Clennett attributes the growth in independent Australian brands to more demand post-COVID, the low barriers to entry, heightened international investor interest, and “really hot” valuations. Still, it can be a tricky transition to other countries, especially the US: “The rules of retail and marketing are different,” she says. “The brand messaging often needs to be changed, and that’s often really hard to do.”

Wells Clennett would like to see more local capital going into beauty, but that requires a better grasp of what makes a good brand: “Plenty of money’s gone to good brands and plenty of money’s gone to bad brands,” she says. “The bad brands aren’t here any more, and it really puts all the investors off the category, then the whole sector loses because it’s harder for the little ones to get big enough to attract capital from overseas.”

Software’s Mooney predicts “a slow death” of the indie boom, with bigger players buying up smaller brands, while Ultra Violette’s founders forecast a shakeout over the next 12 months. “It’s reached its tipping point,” says Chandler-Matthews, noting the rise of copycats. “There’s literally no space for a lot of them in retailers.” Also, the DTC model doesn’t cut it any more: “Customers want to go into a store. Take the example of teenage girls in Meccas and Sephoras after school.”

Whatever the marketing angle, customers want beauty products with a feel-good factor. As a former fan of the Gen X bible The Beauty Myth (before the author, Naomi Wolf, became an anti-vaxxer and conspiracy theorist), I’m bang-up for the anti-beauty movement – just don’t make me give up make-up. As a 50-something woman, I’ve become a selective feminist: vehemently anti-Photoshop and filters, unless it’s my blurry glamour face on the other side of a Vaseline-ed lens. Whether skincare and cosmetics are empowering is debatable, but one thing’s for sure: beauty is big business – and customers are happy to buy what Australian indie brands are selling. I, for one, may be warding off melanoma with my daily dose of Ultra Violette Queen Screen, but I’m also glowy as all get-out. Call me superficial, but that’s worth every one of those $52.

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