Eye cream is a scam. I know this, you know this, and yet my bathroom cabinet looks like a graveyard of tiny, overpriced jars that promised to make me look like I didn’t stay up until 2 AM reading Wikipedia entries about deep-sea shipwrecks. We buy into the idea that the skin around our eyes is as fragile as a butterfly’s wing, requiring a specific, pH-balanced, gold-infused serum that costs more per ounce than a decent bottle of Scotch. It’s nonsense. Most of it is just thickened face moisturizer sold in a 14ml tub to trick your brain into thinking it’s more potent.
The $400 mistake I made in a Sephora
It was November 2021. I had just finished a brutal project at work, my sleep schedule was non-existent, and I looked like a raccoon that had lost a fight. I walked into Sephora in Soho and let a very convincing person talk me into the La Mer The Eye Concentrate. It was $260. Plus a “cooling gel” and a specific silk sleep mask. I spent nearly $400 on what was essentially seaweed-scented Vaseline. I used it religiously for 60 days. I even took progress photos every Tuesday morning at 7:15 AM under the same harsh fluorescent light in my bathroom.
The result? Nothing. Absolutely zero change in the depth of my fine lines or the purple hue under my lids. I felt like an idiot. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. It wasn’t just that it didn’t work; it was the realization that I was paying for the heavy glass jar and the brand’s ego. I still have the jar. I use it to hold paperclips now. It’s a very expensive paperclip holder.
The skincare industry thrives on the fact that you’re tired and desperate. Don’t let a fancy spatula convince you that a cream can fix a lack of REM sleep.
Most of this is just expensive water
I might be wrong about this, but I’m convinced that 90% of eye-specific products are redundant if you have a decent face cream. People will tell you that the molecular weight of eye creams is smaller so it can “penetrate deeper.” Show me the peer-reviewed study. You can’t, because it’s marketing fluff. I’ve started just dragging my regular CeraVe Moisturizing Cream up to my lash line and honestly, my skin feels exactly the same as it did when I was using the $90 stuff from Tatcha.
Anyway, I digress. The one thing I will say is that if your face moisturizer has heavy fragrance or high concentrations of acids, keep it away. I once got a 10% glycolic acid cream in my eye and I thought I was going to have to learn Braille by morning. It was a Tuesday. I spent twenty minutes flushing my eye over the kitchen sink while my cat judged me. Not my finest hour.
The only three things you actually need
If you really want a routine that does something, stop looking for miracles and look for chemistry. I’ve narrowed my eye routine down to three things. That’s it.
- Sunscreen: If you aren’t putting SPF around your eyes, you’re wasting your time with everything else. This is the only thing that actually prevents the skin from looking like a piece of wet tissue paper left out in the sun.
- Retinoid (but be careful): I use Beauty of Joseon Revive Eye Serum. It has retinal, which is stronger than retinol but somehow doesn’t make my skin peel off in sheets. I used 6 pumps over the course of a month and noticed a 12% reduction in the “crinkle” factor when I smile. (Yes, I measured it with a digital caliper because I’m obsessive).
- Caffeine: Only for the mornings. It’s a vasoconstrictor. It shrinks the blood vessels for about four hours so you don’t look like you’ve been crying. It’s a temporary band-aid, not a cure.
I know people will disagree, but I think The Ordinary’s Caffeine Solution is trash. It’s sticky, it pills under makeup, and it feels like putting dried Elmer’s glue on your face. I hate it. I don’t care if it’s seven dollars; it’s seven dollars too much.
My irrational hatred of the “tapping” method
Every “expert” tells you to use your ring finger and tap the product in gently. They act like if you rub your eyes, they’ll just fall out of your head. I think this is total garbage. I rub my eye cream in. I use my index finger. I apply a bit of pressure because it feels like a mini-massage and actually helps move the fluid out of my puffy morning face. I’ve been doing this for three years and my eyes haven’t migrated to my chin yet.
Sometimes you just need to stimulate the blood flow. A little friction isn’t the enemy. The enemy is the $120 price tag on a jar that contains 0.5 ounces of product.
I’ve bought the same $18 tube of RoC Retinol Correxion four times now. I don’t care if something “cleaner” or more “luxurious” exists. It works, it doesn’t sting, and I can buy it at CVS while I’m picking up dish soap.
Is my skin perfect? No. I still have bags when I drink too much wine or sleep less than six hours. But at least I’m not broke because of a cream that promised to fix my DNA.
Does anyone actually enjoy the smell of eye creams? They all either smell like a sterile hospital basement or a rose garden that’s currently on fire. I genuinely don’t know why we tolerate it.
Just wear sunscreen. Seriously.