Celebrity Beauty Brand Founders Don’t Need to Be Experts—They Just Need to Be Honest

Over the past decade, celebrity beauty brands have become almost a rite of passage. Some felt thoughtful; many felt like expensive extensions of a celebrity’s image. JLo Beauty was one of the most disappointing. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised, considering Jennifer Lopez’s ridiculous claim that extra-virgin olive oil is how she keeps her skin looking so youthful in her 50s. I don’t think anyone—even those of us who paid out of pocket for the full routine—actually believed that.

But in the past few years, I’ve noticed a shift toward more hands-on, intentional founders. Selena Gomez’s Rare Beauty is one of the best celebrity-owned brands on the market. At the same time, Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty broke industry boundaries, especially in how it served women of color. And after trying products from Cardi B’s Grow-Good Beauty line, I can attest that the haircare delivers: my curls feel silky-smooth every time I use the Get Rich Hydrating Mask.

Grow-Good’s credibility comes partly from Cardi spending years publicly documenting her relationship with her hair: the scrutiny she faced as an Afro-Dominican woman with type 4 curls, her struggles with length retention, her use of wigs and extensions, and the Dominican treatments she made with ingredients like avocado, honey, and olive oil. Because Cardi let us in on that journey, consumers could see that she wasn’t simply attaching her name to a product. She was building a brand around a problem she genuinely understood.

That history doesn’t make her a trichologist or cosmetic chemist, but it does make her an authority on her own experience. Credentials establish scientific expertise; lived experience creates a different, more specific kind of authority. When that knowledge is paired with qualified formulators and the resources to develop effective products, it can produce something consumers can trust. The strongest celebrity founders aren’t just selling products—they’re transparent about the personal problem that inspired the brand and the experts who helped them develop a solution.

As a Black Latina, that distinction resonates with me. Long before celebrity beauty became an industry, Black and Latina women created products and passed down techniques because mainstream companies weren’t serving us. I grew up going exclusively to Dominican salons because I didn’t trust anyone else to know how to care for and style my hair. When I decided to grow out and repair my natural curls, I turned to Black-owned brands like Shea Moisture and Carol’s Daughter, and later to Afro-Latina founders like Carolina Contreras of Miss Rizos and Lulu Cordero of Bomba Curls.

From Madam C.J. Walker’s haircare empire to Beyoncé’s Cécred and Tracee Ellis Ross’s Pattern, lived knowledge has always shaped the beauty industry—even when formal institutions refused to recognize it as expertise. These brands speak to Black women’s unique hair needs because they begin with an understanding of what those consumers have historically been denied.

Of course, celebrity experience has limits. Beautiful skin, incredible hair, and a massive following don’t automatically translate to expertise. That’s why I evaluate celebrity brands on a case-by-case basis. I try products from everyone I vouch for, for at least a few weeks. I’m more inclined to trust founders who have already demonstrated a real connection to the issue they claim to address—like Shakira documenting her journey to repair her curly hair or Sofia Vergara speaking about her obsession with sun protection. I ask myself: Is the celebrity sharing personal experience or making medical claims? Are credentialed experts involved? Who developed the products? And is the founder transparent about what they actually know?

Maybe the future of celebrity beauty doesn’t require celebrities to pretend they’re credentialed experts. Maybe the most credible founder is simply someone who can say: I lived with this problem, I couldn’t find what I needed, and I brought in qualified people to help create a solution.

I don’t need celebrities to know everything about beauty. I need them to know what they know—and be honest about what they don’t. And if someone claims the extra-virgin olive oil in your pantry is all you need to look as snatched and youthful as J.Lo does in her 50s, that lack of transparency is probably something you shouldn’t trust. I’m just saying.