Not Just a Brand, but a "Korean Friend": The Story of Barr’s Organic Resonance

Celeste Jo: The Sovereignty-Centered Growth Story of Celejoy, the Company Behind Barr

Celeste Jo, Founder of Celejoy and the Visionary behind Barr

When I first encountered 'Barr' through an acquaintance, what immediately struck me was the brand’s idiosyncratic trajectory. It defied the conventional blueprint of K-beauty brands, which typically leverage domestic recognition as a springboard for international expansion. Instead, Barr knocked on the doors of European and South American markets from its very inception. The result was fascinating: it cultivated a robust and loyal fandom in Spain and Costa Rica long before it became a household name in Korea.

This tangible influence in overseas markets naturally catalyzed significant business interest. The fact that multiple brand aggregators have already extended acquisition offers serves as a testament to the extraordinary potential harbored by this seemingly obscure brand.

However, the true essence of Barr is revealed more vividly in a secluded alleyway of Seongsu-dong than in any valuation report. The definitive proof lies in the foreign customers who navigate their way to this remote office, Google Maps in hand. To them, this space is a destination more meaningful than any famous tourist landmark—a place where they can personally express their gratitude to the creators of a brand they truly cherish.

Behind these miraculous scenes lies a founder’s history of grueling trial and error and an ongoing, fierce struggle. For the founding sisters, who lacked both capital and resources, the global market was a relentless battlefield that brooked no excuses. Having endured a period of surviving on a monthly pittance of 250,000 KRW, CEO Celeste Jo still leads from the front lines, carving out her own path. This is precisely why one feels compelled to witness the raw, unvarnished reality of an entrepreneur who continues to walk her path in silence, rather than a polished, finished myth of success.

How did the seemingly slowest, most orthodox approach open the doors to the global market? I sat down with Celeste , a leader who refuses to be swayed by the world’s frantic pace, delivering instead her own clear and steady resonance.

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Q. What was the decisive factor that led you to leave a stable career and start your own business?

Prior to founding this company, I was merely an ordinary consumer who trusted and adored cosmetics more than anyone. At the time, I was a devotee of a certain exotic brand, even resorting to international shipping to obtain their products. However, the turning point came when I met local buyers on a business trip. I was appalled to find that these industry experts had never even heard of the brand. In that moment, I realized that the "heritage" that had captivated the Korean market was nothing more than an illusion, meticulously engineered by calculated marketing.

Witnessing such deception as an industry insider left a bitter taste in my mouth. I felt a profound sense of skepticism toward a market climate where substance—ingredients and efficacy—was sidelined in favor of extravagant packaging and celebrity imagery. I could not suppress the question: "Why is the market so obsessed with decorating the shell when people are opening their wallets in hopes of real results?"

Paradoxically, that sense of betrayal evolved into a distinct business tenacity. I became convinced that if I invested all available capital into the formula itself to deliver something "genuine" while everyone else was selling the mirage of marketing, it would become an unassailable weapon. The desire to prove the worth of an honest product—one I could stand behind without shame—eventually outweighed the fear of leaving a stable organization. Thus began our journey: stripping away the marketing bubbles to focus solely on the essence of the skin barrier.

Q. Working with a sibling must inevitably lead to significant strategic clashes. In which areas do you collide most frequently?

In truth, my own experience often acted as a shackle. Intoxicated by the pride of being a "sales expert," I frequently displayed stubbornness, asserting, "I’ve been there, and I know for a fact that it’s impossible."

We once had a massive fallout over pouch sample production. Per industry convention, manufacturing samples requires using an entire "roll," which yields tens to hundreds of thousands of units. Every manufacturer I knew insisted that small-batch production was out of the question. I flatly told my sister, "This is an industry rule; we have no choice but to give up on the samples." Yet, she questioned, "Why not? There must be a way," and eventually unearthed a facility willing to produce units in the mere thousands. The moment my antiquated experience—which I had clung to as the absolute truth—was rendered obsolete by her persistence, I was left utterly speechless.

The warehouse issue followed a similar pattern. Based on what I had seen at my previous company, I was convinced we needed our own warehouse. I felt I could only be at peace if I personally inspected every box and applied the tape myself. I had even taken out a loan to set up the facility. However, my sister proposed smart logistics (fulfillment), questioning the sanity of paying exorbitant rent and hiring additional staff.

Initially, I could not comprehend her logic. I lost my temper, arguing that the labeling for export boxes was far too intricate to outsource. But the system she found was solvable for a mere 100,000 KRW per month. Had I insisted on my way, the loan would have been depleted in no time. To be frank, the problem was that I deemed my knowledge so "obvious" that I never even thought to verify it. Ironically, it was my sister’s tabula rasa perspective—unburdened by experience—that steered us toward a superior path.

Q. While it may appear as though you’ve walked a path of success, what was the most unbearable "dark age" of your business?

The period immediately following our seemingly glamorous launch was, in reality, our most destitute and grueling time. We launched the brand with a grand entry into Shinsegae Department Store, but reality was cold. After splitting labor costs with the vendor, there was virtually nothing left. Even the seasoned staff at the department store remarked that we should simply endure it, viewing it as a "marketing expense."

At that time, my sister and I drew a monthly salary of a paltry 250,000 KRW. With monthly sales hovering around 5 million KRW, there was no surplus after covering rent and materials. I can still vividly recall sharing a single Subway sandwich with my sister in a corner of TIPS Town, agonizing over how we would ever deplete the mountain of 11,000 items in our inventory.

With European certifications still pending and a complete lack of verified reviews or a marketing budget, we had no choice but to endure, relying solely on product quality. However, thanks to our early customers who recognized our sincerity during that barren period, we managed to exhaust our first batch of inventory in about a year. Looking back, that year of surviving on 250,000 KRW became Barr’s most precious nourishment, forcing us to ignore fluctuating numbers and focus entirely on the essence of the product.

Q. I heard there was an incident where you scrapped all 3,000 units of a product early on to lower unit costs. How did you feel at the time?

In the early stages, my excessive greed to lower production costs at any cost became my undoing. In the cosmetics packaging industry, the unit price drops significantly with bulk orders. Blinded by the desire to squeeze out a bit more profit, I pre-ordered 3,000 containers—far more than our immediate needs—and had them fully labeled.

The catastrophe unfolded while those thousands of containers sat in the warehouse. I had failed to account for the thermal expansion and contraction caused by seasonal temperature fluctuations. As they endured these shifts over time, the pre-applied labels began to blister and warp across the board. The inventory I had stockpiled to save a few cents had turned into a toxic liability.

What pained me most was the profound disappointment in myself. I had championed "minimalism" and "sustainability" as our core philosophies, yet my own avarice had reduced perfectly good containers into a mountain of waste before they could even hold a drop of formula. People around me suggested "covering" the flaws with over-stickers to save the stock, but I refused to release a product that would make me ashamed of myself.

Ultimately, I scrapped all 3,000 units, disposing of them with my own hands. To the casual observer, they might have looked fine; had I shipped them, consumers might never have known, and I would have avoided the financial loss. But to my eyes, the defect was glaringly obvious. For a nascent brand, discarding that volume was a agonizing strategic failure. I cannot describe the self-loathing I felt for nearly sacrificing my principles for a fleeting profit. I learned firsthand the bitter opportunity cost of chasing shortcuts under the guise of "efficiency."

Q. Why did you insist on unique recipes, such as "80% ingredient content," despite the manufacturer's dissuasion?

At first, it was sheer, venomous stubbornness. I believed that cramming in the highest possible concentration of ingredients was the only way to convey my sincerity to customers. Whenever manufacturers dismissed my requests, claiming the formula would separate or that it was "impossible by industry standards," I clung to them relentlessly. I bordering on harassment, demanding they produce new samples until it worked.

However, through countless failed tests, I reached a painful realization: the "completion" of the formula—how harmoniously ingredients interact on the skin—is far more critical than the mere numerical value of a single component.

Currently, ingredient labeling is quite transparent. But viewing the market through that lens was shocking. Many products boast high concentrations on the surface, yet the oil and water separate or fail to absorb upon application. It is akin to a dish made with expensive ingredients that somehow tastes like nothing.

I did not want Barr to be a brand that clung to "vanity metrics." Now, instead of stubbornly inflating numbers, I focus all my energy on finding the "optimal recipe" for maximum absorption and efficacy. I persuade manufacturers by scrutinizing even the slightest nuance in texture. By now, they are well-aware of my tenacity and no longer suggest "settling." The perfect balance achieved through that fierce tug-of-war is Barr’s greatest source of pride.

Q. You spent years pursuing European certification (CPNP) without even having a sales channel. What was the driving force behind that grueling process?

It was never about merely acquiring a certification mark. I wanted to objectively validate our product’s true capabilities by passing the world’s most stringent standards. During the process, I scrutinized every document from manufacturers, from the origin of raw materials to the most minute additives. This forced me to study my own products more deeply than anyone else, and as I passed each microbial and stability test, I gained an unshakeable conviction that our products were truly safe.

There was a decisive, unforgettable moment. Due to a tight budget, I had only commissioned a hydration test from a European laboratory. However, after four weeks of clinical trials, the local researchers sent back an unexpected gift. They had observed a significant increase in "Elasticity" and provided a certified elasticity report free of charge, stating that the efficacy was too remarkable to ignore.

The thrill of receiving an official endorsement from a prestigious European lab—confirming that our product "actually works"—is beyond words. Until then, it had felt like a lonely, solitary obsession. But that moment transformed the desolate time I spent in the wilderness into solid figures and data. What I gained was not just a certificate, but the pride to hold my head high before the world. While others were selecting flashy marketing adjectives to dazzle the public, we went out armed with objective data from a European laboratory. Looking back, those stubbornly reckless years became the deepest and strongest roots sustaining us.

Q. From a management perspective, wasn't it a risky choice to maintain expensive European certifications and insist on eco-friendly packaging at such an early stage?

Indeed, everyone around me warned that it was reckless. However, I believed that upholding the value of "honesty"—the brand's core identity—was as vital as immediate survival. If that integrity were compromised, survival would be meaningless. I chose to handle the vegan certification process personally rather than outsourcing it and insisted on high-cost eco-friendly packaging simply because I wanted to be proud of what I created.

The current packaging is the manifestation of that persistence. It isn't just about aesthetic design; it is meticulously detailed to the point where strict European retailers unanimously agree it is "ready for the shelf immediately." From the front face to the interior of the unfolded box, we filled every inch with the brand’s philosophy and detailed information in multiple European languages.

Global customers were the first to recognize this effort. When they saw the ingredient concentrations intuitively displayed on the front, they responded with, "It’s as trustworthy as a pharmaceutical product," or "I'm touched that I can immediately see what I'm applying without digging through a complex ingredient list." Their reactions solidified my conviction. They recognized the hours we spent excluding alcohol and silicon while seeking the optimal absorption balance.

The same applies to the costs poured into CPNP. Even if a buyer likes your product, starting the certification process then takes at least six months. In the ruthless world of business, buyers never wait. While others spent money on visible advertisements, we built our infrastructure first by paying the maintenance fees for a Responsible Person (RP) in Europe. Ultimately, this pre-investment became the decisive key that allowed us to sign contracts with overseas buyers without hesitation. My insistence on protecting values became, in result, a powerful strategy that facilitated our business most effectively.

Q. You targeted the European market from the beginning. Why do you think discerning European consumers responded to Barr’s "restrained honesty"?

Having experienced European consumers firsthand, I found them to be far more conservative yet significantly smarter than expected. They do not open their wallets simply because a package is cute or exotic. Instead, they scrutinize every ingredient analysis site, checking for EWG Green grades and the absence of harmful components like artificial fragrances or alcohol.

To these individuals, our slogan—"Great ingredients speak for themselves"—was not just a phrase. It was a promise fulfilled through the product. I was truly gratified when international YouTubers reviewed our products as a process of "decluttering" their lives. I believe the transparent disclosure of core ingredients, such as Centella Asiatica extract or Green Tea water at concentrations exceeding 80%, earned their profound trust.

We adopted a strategy of "newness within familiarity" to cater to these consumer tendencies. While following the design and information layouts familiar to Europeans, we meticulously infused Korean ingredients within that framework. From their perspective, Barr was not some mysterious, exotic cosmetic, but a product that felt as comfortable as what they had always used, yet with significantly safer and more attractive ingredients.

Ultimately, the consumer's conviction—that they will pay the rightful value for quality—became our greatest asset. The decisive key to opening the conservative European market lay in "localization" through delivering the information they desired in the most honest and comfortable manner.

Q. What is your definition of Barr’s "true leap forward"?

I take genuine pleasure in taking the path less traveled. While everyone else spoke of the US or Chinese markets, we planted our flag first in barren lands like Costa Rica, Colombia, and Myanmar. The true leap I envision is not merely being number one in sales, but hearing "K-beauty means Barr" in a distant country with an unfamiliar name. Becoming a brand that everyone in Costa Rica knows, even if it remains obscure in Korea—the premium and exhilaration provided by such reverse thinking is the fuel that drives me.

My heart still swells when I think of Noelia, our first buyer in Costa Rica. Simply because she fell in love with our products, she hosted beauty classes at her home, invited friends to parties, and became a voluntary ambassador. That sincere flutter of wings spread across the Spanish-speaking world, from Southern Europe to all of South America, culminating in the miraculous result of entering offline stores in Colombia. I also vividly remember rushing to Incheon to attend the wedding of our Myanmar buyer, James.

Had my objective been merely to sell products, scale the company, and exit at the opportune moment, these precious connections would have been impossible from the start. I want Barr to breathe and grow alongside the countless "Noelias" hidden all over the world. My dream is for Barr to become a living organism—a brand that shares essential beauty across borders and languages.

Q. Even without a massive budget, international influencers voluntarily became "evangelists" for Barr. What force do you believe moved them through "fandom" rather than paid advertising?

I believe it was the "communication with a real person," something large corporate brands can never emulate. In the beginning, we had no marketing budget, so my sister and I did the legwork ourselves, posting in English every single day. Instead of professional models, I—the CEO—posted my own skincare routines and consistently told stories about the efficacy of our ingredients.

More than anything, the real power emerged from the comments section. When customers commented, they didn't say, "Hello, Barr." They said, "Hi, Celeste," calling me by my name. We, in turn, addressed them by their names, maintaining mundane yet intimate conversations like friends. As this cross-border bond gradually solidified, Barr was no longer just a cosmetics company to them; it became "my close Korean friend’s brand."

Communicating in English allowed global users with a shared interest in skincare to gather without borders. The relationships became so strong that I often heard, "I must visit you when I go to Korea." I believe that being recognized as a "person" rather than an advertisement and connecting through names was the essential force that cultivated a fandom more powerful than any exorbitant advertising spend.

Q. It is highly unusual for international fans to use Google Maps to find an office tucked away in a Seongsu-dong alley. Beyond purchasing products, why do you think they seek out this physical space?

To them, Barr’s office was likely not a corporate headquarters, but a "close friend's space." There was a strong desire to physically verify the intimacy they had built by observing and interacting with our daily lives online. Honestly, there isn't much to see at the office, yet fans traveled from Portugal, Germany, Turkey, and beyond to find us.

Many individuals remain vivid in my memory: Fatma, a Turkish Airlines flight attendant who visited multiple times, and Kirsten from Germany, who once brought a whole group of friends. Recently, Kirsten visited again with her daughter, and our children played together at the Children's Grand Park. Though we met as a brand and a customer, we have now become people who share each other's families and daily lives.

I do not believe they carve out precious time from their busy travel itineraries to visit an alley in Seongsu-dong just to get an extra product. They want to confirm if the sincerity we shared online is genuine; they want to encounter "Barr as a persona." It was a profound experience that allowed me to realize firsthand the powerful bond created when a brand ceases to be a rigid corporation and becomes an "organic entity" that breathes and grows alongside its customers.

Q. I understand there were acquisition offers (M&A) and investment discussions from various sectors, including international markets, last year. As an entrepreneur, these must have been tempting; what was the rationale behind your judgment that the time wasn't right?

Rather than a simple rejection, it was a precious opportunity to contemplate the "future" and "sovereignty" of the brand. When global aggregators began to reach out, I was initially gratified by the conviction that the path we had walked in silence was finally being validated by the market.

We engaged in quite serious discussions with global beauty retailers regarding specific equity investments or joining their house brands. However, as the discussions deepened, a fundamental question haunted me: "Would we truly be happy being consumed as just another portfolio piece intended solely for scaling?"

At that moment, my sister—who has endured every hardship by my side—realigned my perspective. One day, she showed me a vision board of a renowned global entrepreneur and asked, "Did we suffer all this way just to sell the company at a good price?"

She pointed precisely to the value of our "sovereignty." She argued that while accepting the offer would bring immediate financial abundance and comfort, our established principles and philosophy would inevitably be swayed by the cold logic of capital. She said, "We can be at the epicenter of K-beauty earning global trust, moving beyond just a passing trend. Why hand that opportunity over to someone else so soon? Let’s draw the greater future of K-beauty ourselves." Her words struck a chord deep within me.

That was my wake-up call. Instead of plucking the sweet fruit of a divestiture now, I felt a renewed tenacity to personally open the doors of the European market even wider and complete the story of "Barr" with our own distinct colors. We haven't even reached half of the vision we initially mapped out.

Q. If you were to define "minimalism"—the core value of your brand—as a philosophy beyond merely reducing ingredients, how would you describe it?

To me, minimalism is not just about emptying; it is an attitude of choosing "where to focus my energy." I strive to minimize the stimuli in my daily life. I park in the same spot, eat similar foods, and decisively cut out unnecessary social ties or draining gatherings. Only by stripping away the meaningless stimuli that deplete my energy can I secure the time to care for the work I must truly focus on, my family, and myself.

Barr’s products mirror my way of life. There is no need to subject the skin to excessive irritation by applying a ten-step regimen. When unnecessary steps are removed and a single essential ingredient is delivered properly, the skin breathes most comfortably. The process of clearing clutter from the vanity to leave only the essentials is, ultimately, the most honest way to love one's skin and life.

To some, this might appear as a monotonous or unexciting daily routine, but I find the greatest happiness in the serenity of this solid ritual. This is the value Barr wishes to convey to its customers: not to reveal oneself ostentatiously, but to serve as a silent backdrop that organizes a complex daily life into something simple and clear. I hope that in the space created by that emptying, our customers can find the essence of their own lives.

Q. Recently, the beauty paradigm has shifted from makeup that conceals flaws to a direction that reveals health. What role does Barr wish to play within this macro-trend?

Focusing on concealment inevitably leads to a vicious cycle. One applies thick layers to hide imperfections, which clogs pores and triggers breakouts, necessitating even thicker layers of camouflage. Living as a "version of oneself that is not real," solely for the sake of appearances, is never a comfortable existence. I believe that skin treated with cosmetics must, above all, be able to breathe.

Today, the world is enthralled by the Korean "Glass Skin"—that porcelain-like complexion. Its core lies not in heavy foundation, but in the transparently glowing inner skin—the fundamental physical strength of the dermis. Ultimately, the essence returns to skincare. Even a simple application of sunscreen should feel as light and comfortable as one's own skin, free from any sense of suffocation.

While I am not a grand theorist leading a massive meta-discourse, I intend to uphold this principle to the very end through Barr. To help the skin maintain its innate health and to present products that make the skin glow on its own without forced additions. Contributing to this era by remaining faithful to the basics—helping customers' skin stay in its most comfortable state without being swept away by fleeting trends—that is Barr’s way of contribution.

Q. What is the future direction for Barr, and what is your ultimate goal?

I do not want Barr to be a "trendy item" that flashes brilliantly and then vanishes. In fashion terms, I aspire for us to be like Uniqlo’s "White T-shirt"—the most fundamental item that one naturally reaches for every day, regardless of the surrounding extravagance, and one that fits seamlessly into any style. Our goal is to become the "standard of skincare" that anyone picks up without hesitation when their skin is exhausted, recovering from a procedure, or simply wishing to return to basics from a complex routine.

To build such a brand, I believe the key lies in how firmly "essence" and "consistency" are interlocked. While focusing on the essence of minimal care for sensitive skin, I strive to preserve the visual identity and the tone of our message to ensure that value remains unshaken under any circumstances.

Thus, rather than instilling illusions with flowery prose, I want Barr to embody the unadorned transparency of "The Ordinary," proving its merit through ingredients alone. Simultaneously, I aim for a brand with a subjective narrative like "Glossier," where the founder’s sincerity and energy permeate every corner.

My ultimate goal is not a grand sales figure. It is to remain a brand that stays in a corner of a customer’s vanity even after 10 or 20 years—a brand that represents a life attitude of trust, where "Barr is enough." In the daily lives of those who know how to organize themselves and focus on the essence, I hope Barr serves as a reliable background that silently supports their healthy lives. For that heavy continuity, we intend to walk this path without wavering.