Glow State: Inside India’s Skincare Arms Race

In 2024, India’s skincare market was worth $8.78 billion—already double its 2014 size—and is projected to cross $17.69 billion by 2033. Within this boom lies a quieter revolution, one not driven by sandalwood or saffron, but by an alphabet soup of clinical ambition. The skincare boom didn’t erupt overnight, it has seeped in, drop by drop, through serums, reels, and dermatologist endorsements. Not long ago, a simple moisturiser would do. Now, nightly routines read like pharmacopoeias: retinoids for wrinkles, vitamin C for spots, niacinamide for pores, a vial of PDRN serum for cellular regeneration. And increasingly, these polysyllabic darlings of chemistry come with high potency, sometimes more than the skin can bear.

Once, a pot of Boroline and a scrub of multani mitti marked the outer edge of Indian skincare. Now, TikTok videos dissect pH levels. Instagram influencers in lab coats speak of “permeation enhancers” and “transepidermal water loss”. A vocabulary of transformation has taken hold as the chemist’s shelf has replaced the grandmother’s kitchen. Dr Sheth’s, rooted in dermatology, formulates for Indian skin with clinical precision. Minimalist, now part of HUL, built its cult on radical transparency and ingredient-first design. Dot & Key, under the Good Glamm Group, brings cosmeceutical rigour beneath playful packaging. d’You strips back to one potent serum; Aminu whispers luxury with actives; Plum evolved from clean beauty to exfoliants and niacinamide. And The Derma Co. speaks fluently to Gen Z’s breakouts and data-driven choices. Together, they’ve rewritten the Indian skincare lexicon.

The actives arms race has been fuelled by a peculiar confluence: the rise of dermatology influencers, algorithm-fed skin anxiety, and the easy availability of high-dose serums. In India, potent formulas, often with retinol concentrations of 1% or more, or 20% vitamin C, can be purchased without prescription. Dermatologists launch private-label websites offering “clinical-grade” topicals, while domestic manufacturers, part of a $461 million personal-care ingredient market (projected to hit $766 million by 2033), flood shelves with stronger, shinier variants.

Yet strength often comes at the cost of safety. Retinol, an umbrella term for vitamin A derivatives, works by accelerating skin cell turnover and increasing collagen synthesis. But in higher doses or without buffering, it can cause peeling, redness, and what is commonly known as “retinol burn”. Tretinoin, the prescription cousin, binds directly to retinoic acid receptors in the skin, making it extremely effective, but also extremely volatile. Clinical studies note its potential to cause dermatitis, photosensitivity, and long-term thinning of the stratum corneum. Vitamin C in high concentrations oxidises easily, destabilises in sunlight, and when formulated without proper pH balancing, can irritate sensitive skin.

The EU’s Scientific Committee on Consumer Safety (SCCS) has responded by issuing binding limits. Starting November 2025 for new products and May 2027 for existing ones, topical retinol in face products will be capped at 0.3%, and 0.05% in body formulations. Warning labels will be mandatory above these thresholds. Not a ban, but a recalibration, aimed at the 5% of users who may be vulnerable to cumulative vitamin A exposure, which studies link to bone demineralisation and liver strain. India, by contrast, has no centralised regulatory limit on topical retinoids, nor a warning-label protocol. The field is open.

Indian consumers are, however, beginning to demand ingredient transparency, and younger buyers in particular are becoming savvier about concentrations and formulations. Brands have responded with cleaner labels, lower-dose options, and gentler alternatives such as bakuchiol—a phytochemical extracted from the Psoralea corylifolia plant, traditionally used in Ayurveda, and now rebranded as “plant-based retinol”. Unlike its synthetic cousins, bakuchiol does not cause photosensitivity or flaking, and is not subject to EU restrictions.

Others have turned to PDRN (polydeoxyribonucleotide) serums, originally used in regenerative medicine. Derived from salmon DNA, PDRN claims to accelerate skin healing, reduce inflammation, and improve elasticity at a cellular level. It is now found in ampoules, facials, and post-laser treatments across India’s skin clinics. Marketed as a gentler alternative to retinoids for anti-ageing, it fits neatly into the larger aesthetic logic: repair, renew, reveal. Whether the science holds at over-the-counter concentrations is still an open question.

Now, exosomes are fast emerging as the next frontier in skincare—tiny, cell-derived particles that promise visible results without the sting of traditional actives. Originally studied for their role in cell communication and regeneration, they’re now being harnessed in anti-ageing serums and clinical facials. Instead of scrubbing or peeling, exosomes work more quietly: delivering signals that tell skin cells to repair, produce collagen, and reduce inflammation. As interest in science-backed, low-irritation treatments grows, exosome-based products are beginning to appear as a gentler alternative for those wary of retinol burns and acid overuse.

The focus is also shifting to healing ingredients that can undo the damage that actives can wreck on the skin barrier. If retinol is the soldier and vitamin C the social climber, then ectoin is the friend who brings you soup when your skin has had enough. Born not in a lab but in nature’s harshest classrooms—salt flats, deserts, thermal springs—ectoin is the survivalist molecule perfected by extremophile bacteria. In serums and creams, it becomes a kind of molecular umbrella, protecting skin cells from UV rays, pollution, dryness and even blue light. Where other ingredients demand transformation, ectoin offers restoration.

For consumers increasingly wary of overexfoliation or sensitisation, fermented skincare has emerged as another reassuring offering. Derived from traditional East Asian skincare philosophies and brought into the global mainstream by K-beauty, fermented rice water, galactomyces filtrate and bifida ferment lysate offer a kind of reparative slowness, a return to skin microbiome balance rather than chemical blitzkrieg. Then there is cica. Known to scientists as Centella asiatica and to grandmothers across Asia as gotu kola or tiger grass—legend says big cats rolled in it to heal their wounds—cica boosts collagen, calming inflammation, and coaxing wounded skin back to health. It is the plant-based therapist in the 10-step routine: quiet, grounding and always on your side.

In fact, the new skincare ritual is part gym, part laboratory, part spa and a lot of experimental theatre—and let’s not even talk about IV drips and injectables. Lymphatic drainage, once the domain of spa menus, is now being recast as a skincare essential: a sculpting ritual that claims to reduce puffiness, encourage detoxification, and restore what the internet calls “snatch”. Facial cupping, microcurrent devices, LED masks that pulse with claims of collagen renewal—none of it is fringe anymore. Coenzymes like NAD, short for nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide, are meanwhile slipping into the language of beauty. Naturally found in every cell of the body, NAD is best known for its role in energy metabolism and DNA repair, but it is now being repackaged as the molecule that might help skin remember its youth. In theory, boosting NAD levels can support cellular regeneration, reduce oxidative stress, and slow visible signs of ageing. In practice, the jury is still out: human trials on topical efficacy remain limited, and absorption rates vary.

The future of skincare is not about rejecting actives and treatments or embracing them blindly. It is about understanding them. To glow is still the goal. But to glow with knowledge, that may be the new face of beauty.

About The Author

V Shoba

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