Wellness isn’t a niche anymore. Walking isn’t just walking, it’s a “hot girl walk.” Green tea isn’t just tea, it’s “nature’s ozempic.” Protein isn’t fuel, it’s an appetite suppressant.
Wellness narratives like these have become culturally unavoidable, and brand storytelling around them often leans on tired values: thinness, hyper-analyzing ingredients, and taking an overall helicopter-parent approach to health. These stories tend to obsess over external markers of wellness more than the benefits of a healthy life. Some brands (cough, cough, Khloud) are sticking to that playbook. But across CPG, wellness storytelling is evolving. Instead of mythologizing the hottest macronutrient or magic habit, brands are weaving wellness into stories about adventure, joy, and balance.
Some brands are nailing it, while others are lagging behind. Here’s a round up of wellness-influenced brands we think are doing a good job of landing their story, and a few we’d like to call on their bullshit. Our B.S. meter goes from 1 (minimal bullshit) to 5 (extreme bullshit).
Khloud
Bullshit meter: 5/5
Oh brother, here she comes. Khloud is, as you may know, Khloe Kardashian’s protein popcorn brand. A reality check that all things “clean” and protein-maxed haven’t yet crashed and burned.
It would feel unfitting not to talk about this primordial soup of gimmicky wellness tropes that chatter without a real story behind it. We’ve got the emphasis on “Nebraska-grown” corn (which everyone knows is better than corn grown elsewhere, right?). Implied ingredient paranoia. Seed oil fear mongering. Magic protein fairy dust. Who says you can’t have it all?
It’s doing way too much, no wonder we can’t find a compelling throughline. It’s a story that doesn’t connect beyond an individualistic view of keeping ingredients “clean” (without defining what that really means) and calories low. Boring!
Mother’s Milk
Bullshit meter: 1/5
Mother’s Milk is a canned cocktail “for the wellness conscious that likes to party.”
While it may seem contradictory to take a wellness approach to an alcoholic product, Mother’s Milk sort of makes it work. They claim to make their cocktails with "real booze" (whatever that means) and "no sugar. But Mother’s Milk seems to be aware of the contradictions, positioning itself as a harm-reduction option that feels unique in a market that leans puritanical.
Is it hypocritical? A bit. Do we hate it? Not really. The brand’s simple promise to help you “have fun and not feel like shit tomorrow” is non-pretentious and non-judgmental (a rare combination in the wellness world). The message that you don’t have to be a teetotaler to care about your health feels like a breath of fresh air.
The Hermit
Bullshit meter: 1.5/5
The Hermit is a jerky brand, but don’t be fooled. There’s no beef or turkey involved. It’s dried squid.
The Hermit leans into true storytelling, taking you through a classic hero's journey with a wellness-tinged flare. Each flavor description includes a scene-setting story detailing how the squid character arrived at each particular flavor. The Hermit leads with a dynamic understanding of what wellness really means, a twist on (but not outright rejection of) the emphasis on protein and clean ingredients we see everywhere.
Turns out, 29 grams of protein per serving and ingredients with a backstory are actually a great supporting claim when the brand doesn’t rely on these metrics to tell the whole story. The Hermit emphasizes that wellness doesn’t just exist for vanity or control—it’s equally about the little moments of adventure that make life worth living. Being healthy entails real-life adventure, enrichment, and community— like a hike in the woods, or a moment of reflection under the stars.
Tandy
Bullshit meter: 4/5
Tandy, the “not candy, something better” brand, is selling candy that doubles as medicine. The brand claims it has candies to reduce stress, help you lock in at work, and calm down at the end of the day—positioning this ‘healthier-than-normal’ product as an antithesis to the original.
The brand rejects the candy label, emphasizing “benefits you can feel within 60 minutes.” But let’s be real: eating candy without feeling guilty is the true appeal. The brand clings to the checkboxes like “real chocolate” and “natural flavors” signaling you don’t have to feel guilty for indulging.
Candy can still be candy, even if it is made more health-conscious. While it seems fine as a product, Tandy strips candy of its main wellness function: fun.
Gutly
Bullshit meter: 3.5/5
Haven’t you heard? Hot girls have tummy issues. Gutly is an IBS-friendly protein powder positioned as an IBS warrior’s answer to the harsh effects of traditional protein powders. Their tagline, “good for your gut inside and out,” is pretty telling.
It’s nothing new, but rather an echo of implied wellness “truths” that boil down to wanting to be smaller. “Truths” like the notion that everyone should consume protein powder, or that gut health is mostly visible externally. A closer look at their website shows the intended audience isn’t just people with IBS—it’s those who think they have IBS.
The brand leans on points that have been around for years: no bloating, clean ingredients, and (key words) weight management. Gutly claims to be about gut health, but their story is really just about having a flat stomach. By appealing to aesthetic desires, they miss an opportunity to talk about how digestive health impacts energy levels, comfort, or quality of life.
Julie
Bullshit meter: 0/5
Julie is an emergency contraceptive brand that emerged in 2022 with the goal of making the morning-after pill more accessible to a younger demographic. This brand does so with an honesty and humor that brings us back to a lightness that existed before reproductive choices didn’t feel as life or death. No hormone balancing, natural rituals, or purity disguised as health—just a product that does what it needs to do and a brand that’s here to laugh with you through the messiness.
Julie roots their messaging in health outcomes, but adds a refreshing level of humanizing humor. It’s trendy to present as a celibate clean girl, but Julie is the brand that will make fun of that trope in their social media messaging and challenge its merits through an educational tone on their website. Their humor-forward voice feels like a comforting and purposefully rebellious reminder that you still have options.
Percent Science
Bullshit meter: 2.5/5
Percent Science believes in science, but maybe not for the reasons you’d expect. This skincare brand is all about a scientific, AI-informed approach to anti-aging. Their tone of voice sounds like a mashup of a biohacker bro and a futuristic cyborg woman (whose skin looks far too perfect to match her age or humanity). The general biohacking ethos leans on science, but emphasizes control and rigidity above all else. For women, this biohacking discussion is often less about longevity and actual health outcomes than it is about searching for the fountain of youth.
Lines like “Aging is natural, but science can slow it down” feel like a high-tech reminder of youth and perfection being the ultimate wellness goal. In the end, this branding feels like it’s using new words and buzzy biohacking concepts to convey a message that feels restrictive rather than inspiring.
Aunt Fannie’s
Bullshit meter: 3/5
The obsession with cleanliness in wellness has extended beyond what enters the body: everything we consume, apply, or exist around should be pure. Aunt Fannie’s is “on a mission to clean up cleaning.”
Increased pollution, decreased air quality, and the effects of climate change fueling collective anxiety makes the promise of ‘clean’ products especially appealing. Aunt Fannie’s subtly channels this anxiety in their messaging about their products by relying heavily on this concept of cleanliness.
They admit in their messaging that this idea can be confusing to navigate, but fail to distinguish themselves from the other brands that rely on similar tactics. Phrases like “it’s all good here” fall flat, telling a story that starts and ends with the individual. By leaning so hard on cleanliness, Aunt Fannie’s misses the opportunity to tell a more compelling story—one that leans into communal health, or even one that embraces messiness as a part of a balanced life.
It’s clear that the old story of control—restricting calories, limiting ingredients, and micromanaging every aspect of your environment—still has a grip on CPG. At a time when health, control, and personal choice are more intertwined than ever, brands that center joy and balance over fear are giving us hope for the next wave of wellness narratives.
The brand stories that will endure won’t be the ones repackaging surface-level promises, but the ones that remind us that being “well” is about living messy, joyful, and full lives.
Izzy Colón is The Subtext’s Content Coordinator and a writer in many forms. She lives in Chicago, and it shows.
Wellness isn’t a niche anymore. Walking isn’t just walking, it’s a “hot girl walk.” Green tea isn’t just tea, it’s “nature’s ozempic.” Protein isn’t fuel, it’s an appetite suppressant.
Wellness narratives like these have become culturally unavoidable, and brand storytelling around them often leans on tired values: thinness, hyper-analyzing ingredients, and taking an overall helicopter-parent approach to health. These stories tend to obsess over external markers of wellness more than the benefits of a healthy life. Some brands (cough, cough, Khloud) are sticking to that playbook. But across CPG, wellness storytelling is evolving. Instead of mythologizing the hottest macronutrient or magic habit, brands are weaving wellness into stories about adventure, joy, and balance.
Some brands are nailing it, while others are lagging behind. Here’s a round up of wellness-influenced brands we think are doing a good job of landing their story, and a few we’d like to call on their bullshit. Our B.S. meter goes from 1 (minimal bullshit) to 5 (extreme bullshit).
Khloud
Bullshit meter: 5/5
Oh brother, here she comes. Khloud is, as you may know, Khloe Kardashian’s protein popcorn brand. A reality check that all things “clean” and protein-maxed haven’t yet crashed and burned.
It would feel unfitting not to talk about this primordial soup of gimmicky wellness tropes that chatter without a real story behind it. We’ve got the emphasis on “Nebraska-grown” corn (which everyone knows is better than corn grown elsewhere, right?). Implied ingredient paranoia. Seed oil fear mongering. Magic protein fairy dust. Who says you can’t have it all?
It’s doing way too much, no wonder we can’t find a compelling throughline. It’s a story that doesn’t connect beyond an individualistic view of keeping ingredients “clean” (without defining what that really means) and calories low. Boring!
Mother’s Milk
Bullshit meter: 1/5
Mother’s Milk is a canned cocktail “for the wellness conscious that likes to party.”
While it may seem contradictory to take a wellness approach to an alcoholic product, Mother’s Milk sort of makes it work. They claim to make their cocktails with "real booze" (whatever that means) and "no sugar. But Mother’s Milk seems to be aware of the contradictions, positioning itself as a harm-reduction option that feels unique in a market that leans puritanical.
Is it hypocritical? A bit. Do we hate it? Not really. The brand’s simple promise to help you “have fun and not feel like shit tomorrow” is non-pretentious and non-judgmental (a rare combination in the wellness world). The message that you don’t have to be a teetotaler to care about your health feels like a breath of fresh air.
The Hermit
Bullshit meter: 1.5/5
The Hermit is a jerky brand, but don’t be fooled. There’s no beef or turkey involved. It’s dried squid.
The Hermit leans into true storytelling, taking you through a classic hero's journey with a wellness-tinged flare. Each flavor description includes a scene-setting story detailing how the squid character arrived at each particular flavor. The Hermit leads with a dynamic understanding of what wellness really means, a twist on (but not outright rejection of) the emphasis on protein and clean ingredients we see everywhere.
Turns out, 29 grams of protein per serving and ingredients with a backstory are actually a great supporting claim when the brand doesn’t rely on these metrics to tell the whole story. The Hermit emphasizes that wellness doesn’t just exist for vanity or control—it’s equally about the little moments of adventure that make life worth living. Being healthy entails real-life adventure, enrichment, and community— like a hike in the woods, or a moment of reflection under the stars.
Tandy
Bullshit meter: 4/5
Tandy, the “not candy, something better” brand, is selling candy that doubles as medicine. The brand claims it has candies to reduce stress, help you lock in at work, and calm down at the end of the day—positioning this ‘healthier-than-normal’ product as an antithesis to the original.
The brand rejects the candy label, emphasizing “benefits you can feel within 60 minutes.” But let’s be real: eating candy without feeling guilty is the true appeal. The brand clings to the checkboxes like “real chocolate” and “natural flavors” signaling you don’t have to feel guilty for indulging.
Candy can still be candy, even if it is made more health-conscious. While it seems fine as a product, Tandy strips candy of its main wellness function: fun.
Gutly
Bullshit meter: 3.5/5
Haven’t you heard? Hot girls have tummy issues. Gutly is an IBS-friendly protein powder positioned as an IBS warrior’s answer to the harsh effects of traditional protein powders. Their tagline, “good for your gut inside and out,” is pretty telling.
It’s nothing new, but rather an echo of implied wellness “truths” that boil down to wanting to be smaller. “Truths” like the notion that everyone should consume protein powder, or that gut health is mostly visible externally. A closer look at their website shows the intended audience isn’t just people with IBS—it’s those who think they have IBS.
The brand leans on points that have been around for years: no bloating, clean ingredients, and (key words) weight management. Gutly claims to be about gut health, but their story is really just about having a flat stomach. By appealing to aesthetic desires, they miss an opportunity to talk about how digestive health impacts energy levels, comfort, or quality of life.
Julie
Bullshit meter: 0/5
Julie is an emergency contraceptive brand that emerged in 2022 with the goal of making the morning-after pill more accessible to a younger demographic. This brand does so with an honesty and humor that brings us back to a lightness that existed before reproductive choices didn’t feel as life or death. No hormone balancing, natural rituals, or purity disguised as health—just a product that does what it needs to do and a brand that’s here to laugh with you through the messiness.
Julie roots their messaging in health outcomes, but adds a refreshing level of humanizing humor. It’s trendy to present as a celibate clean girl, but Julie is the brand that will make fun of that trope in their social media messaging and challenge its merits through an educational tone on their website. Their humor-forward voice feels like a comforting and purposefully rebellious reminder that you still have options.
Percent Science
Bullshit meter: 2.5/5
Percent Science believes in science, but maybe not for the reasons you’d expect. This skincare brand is all about a scientific, AI-informed approach to anti-aging. Their tone of voice sounds like a mashup of a biohacker bro and a futuristic cyborg woman (whose skin looks far too perfect to match her age or humanity). The general biohacking ethos leans on science, but emphasizes control and rigidity above all else. For women, this biohacking discussion is often less about longevity and actual health outcomes than it is about searching for the fountain of youth.
Lines like “Aging is natural, but science can slow it down” feel like a high-tech reminder of youth and perfection being the ultimate wellness goal. In the end, this branding feels like it’s using new words and buzzy biohacking concepts to convey a message that feels restrictive rather than inspiring.
Aunt Fannie’s
Bullshit meter: 3/5
The obsession with cleanliness in wellness has extended beyond what enters the body: everything we consume, apply, or exist around should be pure. Aunt Fannie’s is “on a mission to clean up cleaning.”
Increased pollution, decreased air quality, and the effects of climate change fueling collective anxiety makes the promise of ‘clean’ products especially appealing. Aunt Fannie’s subtly channels this anxiety in their messaging about their products by relying heavily on this concept of cleanliness.
They admit in their messaging that this idea can be confusing to navigate, but fail to distinguish themselves from the other brands that rely on similar tactics. Phrases like “it’s all good here” fall flat, telling a story that starts and ends with the individual. By leaning so hard on cleanliness, Aunt Fannie’s misses the opportunity to tell a more compelling story—one that leans into communal health, or even one that embraces messiness as a part of a balanced life.
It’s clear that the old story of control—restricting calories, limiting ingredients, and micromanaging every aspect of your environment—still has a grip on CPG. At a time when health, control, and personal choice are more intertwined than ever, brands that center joy and balance over fear are giving us hope for the next wave of wellness narratives.
The brand stories that will endure won’t be the ones repackaging surface-level promises, but the ones that remind us that being “well” is about living messy, joyful, and full lives.
Izzy Colón is The Subtext’s Content Coordinator and a writer in many forms. She lives in Chicago, and it shows.
