(That my nose post MOH's Surgery. Sorry, I know that's gross)
If you'd told me years ago I'd start a skincare brand for men, I would've laughed.
Like most guys, I thought skincare was optional. I used whatever body wash was in the shower, got sunburned every summer, and ignored every mole like it had personally offended me. Sunscreen was for the beach, not for Tuesday.
The First Wake-Up Call
My mom was diagnosed with melanoma when I was in high school. I remember the surgery, the scars, the fear that hung in the air for months. She survived, but the word "melanoma" became part of our family vocabulary in a way it shouldn't be for anyone.
Then there was my dad. He'd come home with bandages on his face—big ones, awkward ones, the kind that made you look twice. At first, it was once in a while. Then it became routine. Mohs surgeries. Skin cancer cut out layer by layer until they got clean margins.
At the time, I didn't think much of it. I was in my twenties—self-absorbed, busy. Looking back, that was the second wake-up call. I still hit snooze.
Starting to Wake Up
Fast forward to my forties. I'm doing father-daughter YMCA camping trips—long weekends in the sun with a bunch of dads and their kids. And every single time, I noticed the same thing: nobody brought sunscreen.
When I'd offer mine, the responses were always the same:
"Nah, I don't burn."
"I'm good, man."
"It's not that hot out."
It was like watching a rerun of my own denial. Guys walking around getting torched, day after day, year after year, with zero awareness of what they were doing to themselves.
And I realized: this isn't just ignorance. This is a systemic failure.
The Industry Forgot About Men
There's no shortage of products out there, but they only work if you use them. And the sad truth is most men (upwards of 90%) don't actively use sunscreen, even when actively in the sun.
How stupid is that? But why?
Think about it. The entire skincare industry spent decades building empires around women—SPF education, daily routines, anti-aging messaging, prevention campaigns, all of it targeted at women.
Or products were designed for hardcore athletes and surfers with an emphasis on being eco-friendly for coral reefs' sake, rather than comfort for daily compliance.
Or products like Caldera Labs were designed and marketed for guys with 10-step rituals who get Botox or would rub placenta on their face if it made them look one day younger.
But who was looking out for the everyday guy? The one worried about setting his fantasy lineup, trying to shoot under 100, or staying "fit" by switching to hard seltzers?
We got 3-in-1 shampoo/body wash/engine degreaser and greasy sunscreen that felt like mayonnaise. The products largely sucked. The messaging was too much about vanity or too academic. And nobody was meeting us where we actually were.
Enter Dr. Gigler
I'd been seeing Dr. Gigler, my dermatologist, for years. Every checkup, we'd fall into the same conversation.
She'd tell me about the guys coming into her clinic—30s, 40s, 50s—dealing with skin cancer that was completely preventable. Guys who'd spent decades in the sun with zero protection. Guys who thought they were fine until they weren't.
I'd tell her about the camping trips, the friends who refused sunscreen, the culture of invincibility that made men think SPF was optional.
And one day, half-joking, I said: "We should start a men's sunscreen brand called 4-Skin. Because men are dicks, and they need to cover up."
She laughed. Then she got quiet.
"Actually… that's not a terrible idea."
The Joke That Became a Brand
What started as a throwaway line turned into hours of conversation.
We realized the problem wasn't that men didn't care about their health. It's that nobody had bothered to build something for them.
Men don't need a 10-step routine. We need products that work and don't feel like we're rubbing Crisco on our face.
Men don't need lectures. We need messaging that's direct, honest, and pokes a bit of fun—just like we do with our friends.
Men don't need skincare that feels like a chore. We need something that fits into the life we're already living.
So we decided to build it.
Her expertise as a dermatologist. My experience building brands and marketing to men. And a shared mission: make products men will actually use and talk to them in a way that actually works.
No pastel bottles. No beauty jargon. No guilt trips. Just skincare that protects, feels like nothing, and doesn't make you look like a ghost.
Then I Became the Statistic
Right in the middle of building this brand, Dr. Gigler found a spot on my nose. Basal cell carcinoma. Skin cancer.
I'll never forget sitting in her office as she explained the Mohs procedure I'd need. The same procedure my dad had been through more times than I could count. The same scars I'd watched form on his face my entire life.
Now it was my turn.
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, building a brand to prevent the exact thing I was now dealing with. And the reason I was dealing with it? Because for years, I didn't take my own advice.
I wore sunscreen sometimes. I thought I was being careful enough. I assumed I had time. I didn't.
The surgery left a scar on my nose that I'll carry forever. And every time I look in the mirror, I'm reminded: this was preventable.
This Is Personal. And It's Bigger Than Me.
That scar cemented everything.
This brand isn't a vanity project. It's not about making a quick buck in the men's grooming space. It's not about slapping a logo on a tube and calling it innovation.
This is about saving my two sons and boys and men everywhere from becoming statistics.
It's about fewer Mohs surgeries. Fewer scars. Fewer "we caught it late" conversations in dermatology offices.
It's about the guy at the camping trip who thinks he doesn't burn. The guy who works outside every day and "doesn't have time" for sunscreen. The guy who's "always been fine" until suddenly he's not.
We see you. We were you.
Why "4-Skin" Had to Be the Name
People ask me all the time: "Isn't the name too edgy? Won't it turn people off?"
Here's my answer: if the name is what gets you to remember it, then it's working.
Men don't respond to gentle suggestions. We respond to humor, directness, and things that make us laugh. If calling a sunscreen brand "4-Skin" is what makes a guy remember to wear SPF for the first time in his life, then that joke might literally save him.
That's not edgy branding. That's effective communication. And frankly, I'd rather be memorable and save lives than be forgettable and polite.
The Mission
My mom survived melanoma. My dad's face is a roadmap of scars from decades of sun damage. I've got my own scar now too.
But the next generation doesn't have to.
If we can change the culture—if we can make SPF as normal for men as brushing their teeth—we can prevent thousands of skin cancer diagnoses. We can save lives. We can keep dads at camping trips and guys on golf courses and men around long enough to see their grandkids.
My dad's scars didn't have to happen. Mine didn't either.
Yours don't have to be next.
Don't be a dick. Cover up.
— AK, Founder
