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T
his is a true story. It is 1998, I am at a production
of Cabaret at Studio 54, and Madonna is at the
next table. At some point during the show, she
whips out a mirror to check her hair—I think it
is braided—and I am close enough to see that
she is holding a dull silver T. LeClerc Poudre
compact, an item I have long coveted for its
chic, Paris between-the-wars aura, but that I am
too thrifty, too bohemian to break down and
purchase. Suddenly a surge of lust and desire sweeps through me—this
fairy dust should not merely reside in a rock star’s palm! As soon as the
show ends, I run out and buy it, and I have been swearing by it ever since.
Which means that over the past 21 years I have bought—and dis-
carded—roughly 100 of these things, which is something that until now,
I am ashamed to say, I haven’t given much thought. I know that the
planet is boiling, we are being buried alive by an avalanche of plastic,
the polar ice cap is melting—things are really dire! But alter my beauty
routine, the carefully culled roster of products that has worked so hard
for me over the decades, and make a “clean” break from my faithful
friends? Kill me now! After all, when it comes to cosmetics, who can
deny the magical melding of efficacy and presentation they offer—the
promise that lies inside those seductive boxes, those elegant bottles so
charming on a boudoir shelf?
Still, even selfish me is taken aback by the stark statistics. According
to Euromonitor International, a staggering 152.1 billion units of beauty
and personal-care packaging was sold globally in 2018, and very little
of the resulting waste, including plastic items, will actually be recycled
for a number of reasons, which include variations on access to recycling
programs, and a lack of uniform recycling procedures that can lead to
sorting confusion among consumers. So they end up in landfills, or
burned, or they find their way into oceans and waterways. Worst of
all, most of these items are actually designed to be disposable, destined
to fester atop a repulsive mountain of refuse.
Big beauty is finally meeting the crisis head-on, and it’s about
time. L’Oréal says that by next year, 100 percent of its products will
have an improved environmental or social profile, including updated
formulations that incorporate renewable raw materials that are sustainably
sourced or derived from green chemistry; not to be outdone, the Estée
Lauder Companies has pledged that by 2025, 75 to 100 percent of their
packaging will be recyclable, refillable, reusable, or recoverable. And as a
founding company of TerraCycle’s ambitious new Loop initiative—an
environmentally friendly shopping platform being piloted in select states
that includes eight of Procter & Gamble’s household brands—P&G
says that their offerings, which range from Pantene to Tide, can now
be dropped off and picked up from your home in 100 percent refillable
and recyclable and/or reusable packages, with the click of a button. If
these corporate behemoths can be the change, why can’t I take a few
baby steps in the right direction?
With this in mind, I assemble a collection of products, all vying for the
winning ticket in my ethical/sustainable sweepstakes. Like you, I have
tried really expensive shampoos over the years—because if it costs more it
must be better, right? —but I always return to Johnson’s Baby Shampoo,
which I am delighted to learn is now part of a new How2Recycle initiative
that aims to overcome the challenges around proper recycling with clear,
specific, and standardized labeling. (Who knew?) But in the interest of
science, I investigate a trio of other contenders. First up is California Baby
Calendula Shampoo & Body Wash, which features a cartoon smiley face
on the bottle. The Los Angeles–based company that uses a solar-powered
production facility and sustainably grown, certified-organic calendula
from its own farm in Santa Barbara County is so cutting edge, it even
funnels condensation from air-conditioning and rainwater off the roof
of its headquarters into barrels for landscaping. The next contestant
is L’Oréal Professional Source Essentielle shampoo, which has a lovely
beachy smell, flaunts a vegan, silicone-, paraben-, and sulfate-free
formula, and arrives in a stylish cube that is refillable up to three times.
(A quick visit to its website reveals a list of participating salon refill
stations nationwide.) The third entrant is a murumuru butter–and–rose
shampoo “bar”—no plastic in the packaging!—from Love Beauty and
Planet. It is a heart-shaped cake of soap and thus unlike any shampoo
I have ever used. Though it doesn’t lather up very much (maybe that’s
better for the planet?), its sentimental shape and rosy aroma look—and
smell—like it belongs in a 1950s country cottage. (Not a bad thing.)
