Diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer in her early thirties, Fuca founder Jess Armstrong found herself in a world she never expected to navigate – a relentless cycle of chemotherapy, surgery and radiotherapy. Amid the whirlwind of cancer treatments, she encountered another unexpected challenge: her skin.

“I love skincare. I love the ritual, the self-care, the aesthetics of it,” Armstrong tells Broadsheet. “But suddenly, everything I used before burned and stung. It felt like one more thing cancer had taken from me.”

Determined to find a solution, she turned to her oncologists and naturopath only to be pointed towards uninspiring chemist-brand products that brought little joy to her bathroom shelf.

That’s where Fuca was born. Short for “Fuck Cancer”, Fuca is a skincare brand created to give people with stressed-out skin the chance to indulge without fear of irritation. “It’s for anyone who’s walked into a beauty retailer and asked, ‘Do you have anything for sensitive skin?’ and been met with silence,” Armstrong says.

Fuca’s debut range is built around the essentials. There’s a moisturising cleanser made with a gentle, milky formulation; a hydrating serum packed with three types of hyaluronic acid; and a barrier-restoring ceramide cream. The three-part line-up is designed to bring moisture, resilience and nourishment back to temperamental skin.

Unlike pharmaceutical brands – generally “devoid of any joy” – Fuca refuses to compromise on experience. The aesthetics of pampering, the pleasure of self-care, the normalcy of a daily skincare regime – especially for an oncology audience. “I just knew I could give it so much more meaning,” Armstrong says.

“There’s a massive gap in the beauty industry. One in two Australians will have cancer in their lifetime, yet there’s little representation of women who’ve been through it. Cancer is still this invisible thing in beauty. The industry’s standards are already so high – let alone when you’re balding, losing your eyelashes and your skin has completely changed.”

That’s why Fuca only uses models who have experienced or are currently going through cancer treatment. “That’s something I will continue always, just to give that representation back,” she explains. “For so long, people going through this journey have been erased from beauty.”

With a background in product development – and having worked for the likes of L’Oreal and Vitality Brands – Armstrong knew exactly what she wanted in Fuca’s formulations. And, more importantly, what she didn’t.

“The first step was creating the Fuca Dirty Dozen, a list of 12 ingredients I didn’t want in my products. These include known endocrine disruptors like parabens, phthalates and synthetic fragrance. Many of these chemicals can mimic hormones in the body, which was a major red flag for me, given my hormone-sensitive cancer.”

Briefing a cosmetic chemist is a meticulous process, she explains. “You don’t just say, ‘Make me a natural moisturiser.’ You give a detailed brief covering ingredients in, ingredients out, viscosity, texture, how it should feel on the skin. Most cosmetic chemists are science-focused, not consumer-focused, so I had to make sure every formula aligned with what I knew customers would want.”

Marketing to people with cancer, or any vulnerable community, comes with responsibility – something Armstrong takes seriously. “It’s a fine line. You never want to exploit someone’s experience or make them feel like they need to ‘fix’ themselves. That’s why Fuca isn’t about fearmongering or playing into insecurities. It’s about giving people options and a product they actually want to use.”

The brand also gives back by gifting products to oncology wards. “Not as a marketing tactic,” she clarifies, “but because I know first-hand how much a small gesture like that can brighten a difficult day.”

And while most startups spend years proving themselves before landing major retail deals, Fuca’s trajectory was a little different. Mecca signed the brand before it sold even a single unit. “I hadn’t even launched online yet,” Armstrong laughs. “It just proves how much of a gap there was in the market. When a retailer of that calibre says ‘yes’ immediately, you know you’re onto something.”

Beyond skincare, Fuca is also building community. Fuca Club is an online and offline space where people with cancer can connect, attend seminars and access the kind of practical advice that medical teams don’t always cover. “Doctors focus on your treatment plan, but what about diet, exercise, transitioning back to work? These things matter, too,” she says. Her ultimate dream is to create a retreat where women can rest and recharge while they’re undergoing chemotherapy.

For those who’ve been through cancer, Armstrong says the relationship with skincare often shifts. “I think for so long, people with cancer, or those moving past it, have just accepted that nothing exists for them. You start to believe that you’ll never have nice skincare on your shelf again. But skincare isn’t vanity, it’s health. And when your skin feels good, you feel good.”

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This story is part of Broadsheet’s special Wellness Issue, which explores what it means to feel good in 2025.