When a Composition Starts Talking Back

Attention Changes Things

One of the beautiful things about making skincare to order is how little distance exists between my studio and your daily life.

A composition begins with a clear intention. And once it leaves the studio, enters a routine, and you really listen to it, the formula starts revealing things. It talks back through things like texture, finish, scent, and feel. 

It begins to suggest uses I hadn't originally planned for.

Eye + Brow Butter is no exception.

When I first formulated it, it did exactly what I wanted: it conditioned brows, cushioned the delicate skin around the eyes, and left a subtle, quiet illumination. But then, a funny thing happened. People started using it all over their faces.

And I did too.

The more time I spent living with it on my skin, the more I found myself craving a shift. 

I didn’t want it lighter.

(not exactly)

I wanted it smoother.

I wanted an almost addictive cushion - the kind of texture that dares you to plunge your finger deep into the jar.

To get there, I turned to murumuru. 

Three Ingredients That Earned Their Place

Murumuru butter has been part of Eye + Brow Butter from the beginning, and it's one of my favorite materials to work with.

The more time I spent with the butter, the more convinced I became that murumuru deserved a larger role. It already possessed many of the qualities I was looking for: richness without heaviness, structure without stiffness, and a remarkable ability to cushion the skin.

So I doubled it.

That change got me most of the way there.

The composition felt smoother, richer, and more inviting. But after a while I found myself reaching for two other ingredients I had been thinking about for some time: meadowfoam seed oil and olive squalane.

I wasn’t looking to reinvent the composition. 

Murumuru provided the depth and cushion.

Meadowfoam brought a silky glide and exceptional stability.

Olive squalane felt particularly at home on facial skin, helping the composition settle naturally and comfortably into the surface.

What I appreciated most was how naturally these new ingredients fit into what was already there. Nothing felt forced. Nothing felt added for the sake of being added.

They all had found their place. 

Together, they created the smoother transition from jar to skin I had been searching for from the beginning. Not a different composition. Just a more complete expression of the same idea.

The Result

What I notice most about this revision isn’t any single ingredient.

It’s the experience of using it.

The color remains spectacular - a warm golden amber that hints at everything inside. The scent is distinct and difficult to describe precisely. There is something faintly chocolate-like about it. Something earthy. Something that feels edible.

It brings back memories of time spent in the rainforest.

When I press a finger into the surface, the butter doesn’t collapse. It offers just enough resistance before yielding, allowing me to pull out a generous swirl.

In the hand, it begins changing almost immediately. The edges soften first. The surface relaxes. The composition gathers itself and becomes ready for skin.

It moves easily through the brows. Across the skin beneath the eyes. Along the neck.

The finish is velvety.

Comfortable.

The kind of finish that makes you reach up and touch your face again a few minutes later.

And perhaps that is what this revision was really about.

Not creating something new.

Not improving what was already working.

Simply paying attention long enough to notice what was possible.

The original composition was good.

This one feels more complete.

And I suspect that is true of many things. Given enough attention, enough patience, and enough willingness to listen, they often reveal a fuller version of themselves.