Honouring Roots in Ritual: Founder Spotlight

How my mother’s lessons in Caribbean skincare shaped the way I formulate today

My hands are blending again. Oils, botanicals, listening to what someone needs: I can’t sleep, I have pain, my skin won’t stop breaking out. My brother jokes and calls me Dr. Fèy. In Haitian Creole, it means the doctor who heals with herbs. This is when I feel most at home in myself: when I’m able to find the right solution for that person, when I’m creating something that didn’t exist before.

But these hands learned long before they knew what they were learning.

I grew up in Saint-Marc, Haiti, a small coastal city where we lived as a big community. Neighbors looked out for each other, took care of everybody. That sense of collective care shaped who I became. It’s why, even now, I’m drawn to taking care of my friends, my family, my customers. It’s not just what I do. It’s who I am.

I remember the coconut. We had palm trees around the beach, and years later, when I’d moved to the big city, the scent of coconut would bring me right back. I remember the castor oil, thick and amber, used for everything. Hair. Skin. Pain. Fevers. It wasn’t called skincare or a remedy. It was just what worked, what we knew. And the hibiscus, we used it constantly. For colds, for immunity. We’d crush it into masks for our hair.

My mother was a seamstress. She sewed all our dresses and made sure we dressed beautifully. That was about appearance, yes, but it was also about something deeper. She brought so much love to raising us that I learned beauty isn’t only what people see. It’s also what you carry inside yourself.

I didn’t realize it then, but I was watching someone formulate. My mother would measure, adjust, make sure the dress fit right for that specific person. She wasn’t following a generic pattern. She was making something with intention and care for whoever would wear it.

My relationship with beauty evolved, but it stayed rooted in what my mother taught me. I like to look good, to dress well. I like bags and shoes—which woman doesn’t? But appearance is only part of it. What matters just as much is what you carry inside. It’s not because I’m a nurse that I like to take care of people or heal them. That’s my personality. That’s what I learned in Saint-Marc, from my mother, from my community.

I started as a little girl drawing houses on the ground with chalk. I said I wanted to be an architect. Twenty years later, I became one. That work developed my artistic side—I’m creative, I’m crafty. Then I became a nurse. In Montreal, I’d been a medical representative with a solid background in cosmetic and skincare medication. When I came to the United States, nursing felt natural. It let me develop the healing and caring I’d always carried inside. And because I was still drawn to healing, I moved naturally toward aromatherapy. I use the power of nature to help people. I take care of skin because I love skin, and I want to help with whatever concerns someone has—acne, blemishes, rosacea. I find the right formula for that person. I customize because I listen. I listen to my customers, to my friends, to my family, to my coworkers.

Just like my mother adjusted a dress, I adjust a formula.

There’s a difference between a routine and a ritual. A routine is something you do every day without thinking: wash your face, moisturize, move on. But a ritual is something I do with intention, with presence.

In the morning, my ritual is doing my skincare with a cup of coffee. My espresso cup, filled with Haitian coffee and brown sugar. That’s sacred time. At night, I diffuse lavender while I remove my makeup and apply my products. It’s not rushed. It’s deliberate.

Flo’s Skincare Ritual
My skin is prone to rosacea, so I keep my routine simple. Simplicity isn’t about doing less, it’s about doing what works with intention.

Morning & Night:

• Orijin Jasmine Collection (cleanser, essence, nectar)
• Topical metronidazole cream (for redness) *not pictured
• Sunscreen (morning only)

I formulated the Jasmine Collection for sensitive, reactive skin like mine. It’s what I reach for when my skin needs to be calm, balanced, and cared for—not overwhelmed.

My hands remember Saint-Marc, even when I’m blending in a lab in the United States.

Dr. Fèy, the daughter of a seamstress who taught me that care is specificity. That love is attention. That the right formula—for a dress, for a person, for skin—comes from listening first.

ti bo (kisses)
Flo

What did your mother’s hands teach you? What scents bring you home?