Until last spring, I didn’t understand what the word non-comedogenic really meant; acne, however, is a language I’ve been fluent in for 15 years. Routine dermatologist appointments; a revolving door of prescriptions; even the occasional steroid injection to quiet a particularly defiant cystic pimple—tempering breakouts became less of an inconvenience and more of a long-term management plan. Despite my parents’ assurances that I’d eventually grow out of it, clear skin never arrived as a surprise bonus of adulthood. Even with a bathroom cabinet brimming with supposedly “acne-safe” products, I still couldn’t get the cystic pimples along my chin or cheek to stop mysteriously appearing overnight. It wasn’t until the universe snagged me an appointment with celebrity facialist Sofie Pavitt, who took one look at my skin and gave me a bit of advice that would transform my skin for good.
Comedogenicity, she explained, refers to ingredients with the potential to clog pores, trapping bacteria and debris in acne-prone skin. “The comedogenicity scale is not something that is set in stone,” Pavitt tells Vogue. “What one company deems non-pore clogging can vary greatly between product lines. I know foundationally that comedogenic ingredients can impact the skin differently depending on where they sit within a product formulation. I don’t expect the average consumer to discern this. Therefore, the path of least resistance in my messaging to clients is to avoid these potentially pore clogging ingredients while on a skin clearing journey.”
Vogue’s Favorite Non-Comedogenic Beauty Products
Back at home, I opened my vanity and began scrutinizing every label—cross-referencing formulas against acne-safe ingredient checkers (per Pavitt’s instructions) and purging anything that didn’t make the cut. In the process, I discovered that many products marketed as “acne-safe” still contained multiple potentially pore-clogging ingredients: oils and butters (shea, jojoba, avocado), certain waxes (looking at you beeswax), and even surfactants (a fancy word for the agent that powers most face washes) and several extracts. Almost instantly, half of my toiletry bag was unusable if I followed the esthetician’s guidance.
Her philosophy is to focus on elimination first, experimentation later. “Once the skin is clear, then it’s easier to see if a new product is potentially going to cause an issue,” says Pavitt. “I always recommend my clients incorporate one new product at a time to test for irritation.” This approach is less about fear mongering and more about creating a clean slate, then reintroducing products with intention.
However, Pavitt assures me that such militancy isn’t a forever mandate. Once skin shifts from a cycle of regular breakouts to something closer to maintenance mode (Think: clear more often than not) there’s room to loosen the reins. Though honestly, now that I’ve pared my regimen back, it doesn’t feel restrictive. There is beauty in cutting down excess, and finally parting ways with products I once held on to.