There was a moment when retinol seemed to have taken over every skincare conversation… until we started asking ourselves whether we really wanted to keep using it.

The ingredient that had become synonymous with renewal and prevention began sharing space with a somewhat more negative vocabulary. Irritation, sensitivity, skin barrier, damage. The curious thing is that, while our perception was changing, the science behind it remained practically in the same place.

But then, what happened? Perhaps the simplest answer would be: its own virality. Because while retinol had become one of skincare’s biggest protagonists, it also started becoming one of its most questioned ingredients. But understanding this new relationship requires moving beyond extremes. Because the more interesting question is no longer whether retinol is good or bad, but what we actually know about it —and how much of what we think we know was born outside of science.

Before Retinol, There Were Retinoids

To understand how we came to question it, we first need to understand how it reached us. The story doesn’t exactly begin with retinol, but with retinoids: a family of compounds derived from vitamin A that began transforming dermatology long before finding a place in our ten-step routines. It was in the 1970s that the FDA (the United States federal government agency responsible for protecting public health) approved one of these retinoids —tretinoin— to treat acne; and then, everything changed.

Dermatologists began noticing that tretinoin did more than treat acne. It accelerated the renewal of surface skin cells and stimulated collagen production. What had started as a tool against acne began opening an entirely different conversation about how it could change the skin. That was when the cosmetics industry turned its attention to the entire retinoid family. Among them, of course, retinol.

That is where the real shift happened; a conversation that had belonged primarily to dermatology entered skincare culture. Retinol appeared in serums, creams, and over-the-counter treatments. It stopped feeling like a molecule you had to know about and became a name almost everyone recognized. But its arrival on our shelves didn’t happen simply because the industry had found a new promise to sell. Behind its popularity was something far more difficult to build: evidence.

The Science Behind Retinol

Retinol’s reputation has an explanation more solid than any viral trend: it actually works. Once it enters the skin, retinol is converted into retinoic acid, the form capable of stimulating cell renewal and collagen production. Physically, that translates into improvements in texture, fine lines, and pigmentation.

Of course, there is also acne. Topical retinoids remain part of dermatological recommendations precisely because they help prevent pores from becoming clogged and can reduce inflammation. In short: yes, retinol remains an ingredient widely recommended by dermatologists.

But there is an important distinction. Much of the clinical evidence belongs to the retinoid family as a whole. That doesn’t mean retinol lacks evidence, but it does mean that not every product with “retinol” on the label will deliver exactly the same results. Concentration, formulation, stability, and the skin’s ability to tolerate it matter too —a lot.

Perhaps that is why it is so easy to get lost between the two extremes. Retinol isn’t an empty promise invented by the beauty industry, but it isn’t a miracle molecule either. It has known mechanisms, evidence behind it, and results that depend on how —and on whom and when— it is used. And it is precisely that last part that began complicating its story.

When Caution Turned Into Distrust

Let’s say it again: just because something works doesn’t mean it works the same way for everyone. That is where the entire controversy begins. Because dryness, peeling, redness, and irritation are known effects of retinoids, especially when first introducing them. But that doesn’t make them villains.

The way we began understanding skincare also played a role. As the skin barrier gained prominence, routines began to simplify, and tolerating irritation no longer necessarily felt like proof that a product was working. On social media, that conversation found the perfect place to grow; and phrases like “it can cause irritation” began to blur into “it causes damage.”

Then, in 2024, an almost definitive argument appeared: Europe was restricting retinol. Yes, the European Union established new limits on its concentration in cosmetics, but it never banned the ingredient or concluded that it was unsafe. The measure sought to control total exposure to vitamin A while taking other sources into account, including diet and supplements. But on TikTok, what was actually a much more specific regulation ended up feeding a far simpler narrative: if Europe was restricting it, something had to be wrong.

That is where a scientific conversation full of conditions became something much easier to share. Retinol irritates. Europe restricted it. The skin barrier matters. Each statement contains some truth. But together, and without context, they can tell a completely different story. Perhaps the real change was never in the ingredient itself. It was in our willingness to use it at any cost. Science never stopped supporting it; it simply never said that all of us had to use it in the same way.

So, How Should Retinol Be Used?

If this entire conversation makes one thing clear, it is that using retinol shouldn’t become a viral challenge. General dermatological guidance is usually quite simple: start slowly, choose concentrations your skin can tolerate, use it only at night, and pair it with plenty of hydration. There is no universal age to begin either; it depends more on what each person’s skin needs —from acne or pigmentation to fine lines— and sensitive or very dry skin generally requires greater caution.

And something worth making very clear: more doesn’t necessarily mean better. A higher concentration or more frequent application doesn’t guarantee better results. If persistent irritation appears, reducing frequency —or stopping altogether— makes far more sense than trying to force the skin to adjust at any cost. Consistency, formulation, and, above all, tolerance matter just as much as the active itself. Because using retinol well should never mean learning how to endure it.

Editor’s Insight

After understanding its history and evidence, an important question remains: do we still use retinol? The short answer is yes. But not in the same way. Understanding an ingredient better also means stopping the pursuit of the highest concentration, letting go of the idea that irritation is an inevitable part of the process, or assuming that a formula works simply because it carries a familiar word on its label.

What matters most is understanding what we actually need and finding formulas where efficacy and tolerance can —and should— exist in the same conversation. Perhaps that is why these products have become favorites when it comes to retinol: because they represent different ways of formulating it, using it, and, above all, living with it.