I grew up in rural Hawaii, with a mother who obsessively chose natural remedies over modern products. 

This meant we grew most of our own vegetables, ate the fish her friends caught for us, harvested calendula from our neighbors' gardens for toners, and took arnica for injuries. We used castor oil to care for skin, aloe vera leaves for sunburns, and sometimes, we got to treat ourselves to little bottles of “skin trip” after the beach. They smelled like gardenias. I loved them.

 At 18, my friends introduced me to Clinique, the most processed thing I had ever put on my face. I felt adult, upscale, and beautiful with my little bottle of yellow moisturizer and black honey lipstick.

When I was scouted to model in 2003, I moved to New York, and it became ver clear, very fast, that I knew NOTHING about the beauty industry. I was instantly wide-eyed at how many products were available to me, and how much they promised to do for my skin. 

I loved trying every formula, with every promise, from moisturizers to lip balms to concealers and eyeshadows. I loved reading about all the high-tech actives and technological advancements.  In the face of so much marketing, surrounded by so many beautifully branded packages and soft
creams and little vials of acids, I suddenly felt like my mom’s ways were quaint, ineffective, and embarrassing,

Fast forward 15 years, and I, like so many of my peers, had a medicine cabinet full of my favorite finds. My skincare routine was six steps long, and consisted of a french moisturizer I thought I loved, with a petroleum base, four little vials of actives that I had to learn to pronounce, and a hyaluronic acid gel that I was in the process of hoarding because it had just gone out of production.  I had developed perioral dermatitis, a nasty facial condition, from my overzealous love of products, and saw my six steps as super pared down and sad - I couldn’t believe how many products I couldn't use. Whenever it flared up, I had to go on a 6 week antibiotic course. This was not the way.

In the early covid days of 2020, like so many New Yorkers, I started to feel strained living in a city with no activity.  I started to long for my rural roots – my family had acres to roam around on, animals to hang out with, and nature every day, while I had a shoebox that I could never leave.

I had spent vacation time in the Catskills for the decade before the pandemic, but during the lockdown, I committed to the area in a way I had never considered.  I got one dog (Baby! Our namesake!), and then another (Lulu!) to hang out with. I made friends with farmers, and started behaving more in the way that I had grown up learning to – eating locally, serving communal dinners, and making more and more foods from scratch, canning, preserving, and reusing until our kitchen use resembled witchcraft more than anything else. 

I also started to question my skin care routine – who was it for? What was I trying to achieve with all the steps? Why was I playing a game of “which products can I still use?”  At this point, I made all our condiments from scratch. I fed my dogs local produce on top of their food. Why was I still using synthetic skincare on my body?

Baby and Lulu at my side, I went to work, first with a single oil.  I had learned simple cosmetic formulation from years of working in beauty, and I knew exactly what I wanted – something as straightforward as the way we ate, plant based and super effective. I knew what plants could do the things that my synthetic actives had been doing. Three months later, I had ditched my routine for good, and was making skincare not only for myself, but for most of my friends – and we were all using it and loving it.  I had also made beautiful little packaging, just to make myself happy,  because I deeply hated how natural products looked on the shelf – like they were trying so hard to convince you they were effective, and ecologically friendly, and clean, that they had forgotten to be beautiful, graceful, or fun in any way. 

Because she symbolized all the joy of my return to natural ways of living, I put Baby right on the label, jumping happily through a field – and Baby le Bébé was born.

Today, we have a line of products, all plant-based, using only botanical ingredients and a little beeswax where we need to. We don't take our world for granted, and we try not to use any more than what we need to. Natural products, thoughtfully sourced and made with care, shouldn't be a luxury, but in the world we live in, they are – and we're so glad you found us. We hope we can become a little luxury in your day, and over time, we hope we become a staple in your life.

All my best,
Remy