How beauty industry greenwashing went from refillables to Instagram props

From investors and venture capitalists to to-be entrepreneurs, the $21 billion (expected to reach $34 billion by 2028) beauty industry in India has everyone in a chokehold. Yet, few want to address the more than 120 billion units of packaging it produces annually, of which only 14 per cent is recycled—not to mention the water and electricity consumed during the many stages of production.

Around 2020, sustainability stormed into the beauty industry with a one-way ticket, fueling a 10 per cent compound annual growth rate (CAGR) for sustainable products between 2020 and 2023, according to a report by Euromonitor. But the spotlight faded rapidly, giving way to a new era of beauty industry greenwashing.  

From launches of refillable make-up products to lifestyle merchandise, brands are dressing up the beauty industry’s greenwashing as eco-progress—only packaged in a prettier, more covetable form.

The lifestyle-ification of beauty: Smart marketing or beauty industry greenwashing?

The concept of branded merchandise isn’t novel; from airlines to fashion houses, several industries have traditionally chosen this route for marketing. The beauty industry, however, has taken it to the next level, particularly after Rhode’s Lip Case went astonishingly viral globally. The search for “mobile phone charm” has risen sharply over the past five years, according to Google Trends, from almost zero to a steady climb today. 

Not just trending brands like Glossier, Supergoop, Merit, Summer Fridays, Bubble, and Gisou, but even new-age homegrown brands such as d’you, FAE Beauty, Aminu, indē wild, Friday Feeling, Suhi & Sego, and Tira have a solid line-up of merchandise, signalling the next big leap: the lifestyle-ification of beauty.

For Karishma Kewalramani, founder of FAE Beauty, merchandise has been a priority since the brand’s launch in 2020. “I believe that merchandise builds brand equity and brand recall. Over the years, we’ve launched a bunch of them—from water bottles to bucket hats, fanny packs to charms—and that’s purely because we want FAE Beauty to become a part of your lifestyle, and not just your beauty routine.” For Kewalramani, branded merchandise is also a nod to a consumer who resonates with the brand’s identity, but not necessarily the products. “You might not want to buy make-up or skincare, but if you subscribe to the idea of ‘Free and Equal Beauty’, you can use and carry the merchandise from our brand.”

“I BELIEVE THAT MERCHANDISE BUILDS BRAND EQUITY AND BRAND RECALL” – Karishma Kewalramani 

Earlier this year, in April, indē wild released a limited edition pair of denims; however, the idea wasn’t to move to fashion, says founder Diipa Khosla. “We had made a pair for our campaign with actor Ishaan Khatter, and got so many DMs asking us to launch them, that we decided to do it as a cheeky three-day April Fool’s drop. It was through preorders only, so we didn’t create any excess stock. The intention was to give our community something they had asked for.” Denim is a resource-heavy fabric; just a single pair of jeans needs 7,600 litres of water to make through the production line. 

The beauty industry is also big on the gifting culture, from press kits to influencer packages. In these boxes, several items—which the beauty brand may or may not retail directly to consumers—accompany the actual beauty product. Aminu, for instance, adds utility items such as canvas tote bags and handmade fabric slip-ons. “We do merchandise as complimentary gifts, designed to add genuine value to our customers’ daily rituals. Each piece starts with real feedback, like the slip-ons we created for our VitC Body Oil, after customers told us they preferred not to walk around barefoot post-application. Or the canvas tote that fits your laptop—and your lip balm,” says co-founder Aman Mohunta, who sees merchandise as an effective medium of community-building. “Our merchandise isn’t about reach, it’s about resonance. Cute props may serve aesthetics, but utility items solve a need, too.” 

“EVERY 1000 ML ROSE WATER REFILL [OF OURS], FOR EXAMPLE, REPLACES 20 SMALLER UNITS, WHICH ADDS UP QUICKLY WHEN YOU CONSIDER THE LABELS, STICKERS, BOTTLES, AND LOGISTICS MATERIALS SAVED” — Meher Jadwani

According to Jessica DeFino, a US-based beauty journalist and founder, The Review of Beauty, the lifestyle-ification of beauty is directly related to the increasing ubiquity of beauty. “The industry is expanding in so many directions—targeting teenagers (think Sephora Kids), older consumers (think the menopausal beauty boom or anti-ageing cosmetic surgery), and even men. Beauty is becoming a bigger part of everyone’s lives. And the industry wants it to remain that way, by focusing on your lifestyle through products like phone covers and charms.” 

Sustainable beauty brands in India with refillable make-up and skincare are rising—but real impact is questionable 

In the past few years, sustainable beauty solutions have been flourishing globally. From luxury houses like Chanel, Charlotte Tilbury, and YSL Beauty with refillable make-up in India to skincare brands such as Kiehl’s, Lancôme, L’Occitane, Laneige and homegrown brands like Suhi & Sego, Dearist, and asa Beauty, refillables are now part of the beauty lexicon. According to Grand View Research, the global refillable packaging market, valued at $47.49  billion in 2025, is projected to reach $62.6 billion by 2030, of which the Asia-Pacific region is the fastest-growing, accounting for 46.2 per cent of revenue.

But adoption of these solutions tells a different story. One report states that 60 per cent of Indian consumers research about the ingredients before shopping for a beauty product. Another study reveals that while 91.7 per cent acknowledge the eco-friendliness of sustainable personal care products, a discrepancy arises as only 28.6 per cent deemed it crucial to their purchasing decision, and only 31.4 per cent believe these products to be cost-effective. 

Some brands package refills in larger plastic containers, which undermines the premise. Meher Jadwani, founder of Dearist, sees merit in her aluminum refill formats. “Our refill sizes have helped eliminate a significant amount of packaging waste. Every 1000 ml rose water refill, for example, replaces 20 smaller units, which adds up quickly when you consider the labels, stickers, bottles, and logistics materials saved.”

Yet, awareness remains niche. Beauty editor and content creator Komal Basith notes, “Sales of refill lipsticks as a sub-category are woefully low, for example, even though there has been a rise in refillable lipstick packaging. It seems at odds to introduce refillable packaging in such a crowded, noisy space where novelty is what consumers seem to seek, more than anything. Refillables could perhaps make more sense in the body care space.” US-based beauty editor Jean Godfrey-June adds, “Financial incentives would instantly make them more popular with consumers. Of course, that would require profit-margin sacrifices on the part of the beauty industry, and they aren’t willing to take that step.”

Gen Z’s double bind: Conscious beauty in India meets FOMO 

Gen Z and millennials make up the largest cohort of beauty consumers in India today, with Gen Alpha being next in line. This group cares about sustainability, but is also easily swayed by trends on social media. While 73 per cent of Gen Z consumers are willing to pay a premium for sustainable beauty products, they are just likely to spend on viral merch like charms or Labubus.

“I love bag charms and keychains because they’re such a cute way to customise any accessory and make it look like mine,” says Bani Sachar, communication consultant and Gen Z beauty consumer. She admits that packaging waste is disappointing but continues to buy products she values, while doing her bit by segregating waste. 

“IT’S LIKE BEING A BRAND’S MARKETING EXECUTIVE WITHOUT BEING PAID FOR IT—WE’RE WALKING AROUND WITH ALL THAT MERCHANDISE AND ADVERTISING FOR THE BRAND” — Jessica DeFino

The blending of lifestyle and beauty also feeds into brand loyalty. “I don’t just want to be a user, I want to feel like a ‘brand ambassador’ in my own right,” says Sachar. “There’s just something satisfying about owning a lipstick that matches my sipper, or a lip gloss that matches my keychain. It also makes me feel more cared about.” 

DeFino takes a dimmer view: “It’s like being a brand’s marketing executive without being paid for it—we’re walking around with all that merchandise and advertising for the brand. I think it’s particularly depressing to turn a consumer into a marketing opportunity.” Meanwhile, Godfrey-June believes lifestyle expansion can work if it’s authentic, citing Goop’s loyal cross-category audience. 

Basith agrees that merchandise can be a positive move in the community-building direction; however, brands don’t hit the right spot very often. She adds that it works only when the merchandise has a genuine use case or strong aesthetic value, otherwise it just adds to waste. 

Why sustainability remains the beauty industry’s biggest misfire

Brands like Juicy Chemistry, Bare Necessities, Pahadi Local, and Ruby’s Organics are making strides towards eco-friendly makeup brands in India, using eco-conscious packaging and ingredients. But unsustainability is baked into beauty’s operating model. 

The annual beauty industry waste includes 400 million single-use silicone moulds used for logo embossing on products—a detail that wears off after a few uses. Merchandise like apparel, water bottles, diaries, and charms often rely on resource-heavy manufacturing processes. “Many miss the relationship between the beauty industry and oil,” DeFino points out. “The use of oil is sizeable in the industry, and petrochemicals are an obvious by-product of that. Add the excessive reliance on plastic to that.”

“Merchandise is a method of discounting without showing the discount,” says Godfrey-June on the current beauty industry greenwashing trend. “And, of course, it adds to the waste the beauty industry produces.” 

Mohunta points out that sustainability isn’t restricted to the packaging. “We design concentrated, multi-tasking skincare that does more with fewer ingredients. Every formula is holistic and barrier-supportive, so you don’t need five serums when one will do. We lean on biotech ingredients, skip the microplastics and other fluff on the inside, as well as unnecessary packaging on the outside.” 

Khosla adds, “All our formulas are vegan, cruelty-free, and made with ethically-sourced ingredients. That includes Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil (RSPO)-certified palm oil and bakuchiol sourced under the Nagoya Protocol to ensure fair, transparent farming practices in India.”

DeFino and Basith agree that the most sustainable move for beauty brands would be to slow down launches or stop entirely—unrealistic but a reminder that conscious beauty India needs systemic change. “Product launches today aren’t need-based—and not even want-based,” notes DeFino.  

Given the influx of beauty brands and the normalisation of dupe culture, which has saturated every product category, the idea of slowing down might seem idealistic.  But prioritising slow innovations over mass-produced trending products and making every stage of the product development life cycle process as eco-friendly as possible can bring about a considerable change. In the end, the harder truth is that beauty thrives on an appetite for the new—greenwashed or not.  

In an industry built on perpetual reinvention, sustainability risks being just another limited-edition drop—hyped, hashtagged, and forgotten by next season. The real shift happens when consumers decide that what’s worth coveting isn’t just the next drop, but the values a brand is built on.