It’s Kombucha Thursday at the Santa Monica headquarters of The Honest
 Company, which means that groups of young, stylish workers gather at 
communal tables in a converted toy factory to slurp fashionable 
fermented tea. Jessica Alba, Hollywood star and company cofounder, sits 
in the adjacent room. She’ll join her troops shortly, but for now she’s 
transfixed by a box of tampons that looks more like it holds an 
expensive candle than Kotex. “Dope!” she declares, approvingly.
“We’re using all-organic cotton and plant-based polymer and a 
bio-plastic applicator,” says the 34-year-old actress earnestly, 
contrasting that with the plastic content of drugstore tampons and their
 effect on hormones. Honest’s new feminine care line launches in July.
Alba can go similarly deep on almost all of The Honest Company’s 120 
products, whether the ingredients in a new organic beeswax sunscreen or 
the clever insulation pocket hidden inside a chic $170 vegan-leather 
diaper bag. Yes, she has a pretty face — it seems as if every men’s 
magazine has named her the most beautiful woman in the world at some 
point — but it’s the details from which great fortunes stem.
Details and hard work. Alba laughs about how she once worked an 86-hour week as the star of James Cameron’s sci-fi TV series, 
Dark Angel
 — the series that launched her career. Now, she says, she spends those 
86 hours at a vintage teal blue desk, overseeing marketing and brand 
development for a company that feeds a growing demand for safe, nontoxic
 products, particularly among young helicopter parents who treat 
children — and what goes near or inside them — like porcelain.
Safety sells. The Honest Company has experienced an absurd level of 
growth. In 2012, its first year selling products, it hit $10 million in 
revenue. By last year it was $150 million, and industry insiders are 
predicting over $250 million this year. The company is focused on growth
 over profits, boasting a current valuation to match: $1 billion.
That figure means Alba, who owns between 15% and 20% of the company, 
according to a source with knowledge of her investment, is sitting on a 
fortune of $200 million. She’s on her way to earning a spot on FORBES’ 
new ranking of America’s Richest Self-Made Women,
 just $50 million shy of Beyoncé and Judge Judy, who are tied at number 
49. The only other two celebrities to make the inaugural list are Oprah 
and Madonna. The difference is that foursome made their money in their 
core field, media and music. Alba, at a young age, has done it in a 
completely unrelated industry. But ask Alba and she’ll tell you she and 
Honest are just getting started. “If we really want to make a difference
 in the world and people’s health, it’s billions and billions of 
dollars, not just one,” she says, surveying the open-plan company floor 
from a conference room above its wooden rafters.
Like most great ideas, The Honest Company was inspired by a need that
 wasn’t being filled. In 2008 Alba was newly engaged to Internet 
entrepreneur Cash Warren and pregnant with their first child. At a baby 
shower thrown by family and friends, she remembers her mother advising 
her to use baby detergent to prewash the piles of onesies she’d received
 as gifts. She used a mainstream brand and immediately broke out into 
ugly red welts, harkening back to a childhood spent in and out of 
emergency rooms and doctors’ offices.
“She was the most sensitive child,” remembers her mother, Cathy Alba,
 who wasn’t referring to her daughter’s emotional well-being. Raised on 
Air Force bases in such places as Biloxi, Miss. and Del Rio, Tex., 
Jessica’s bad allergies and chronic asthma made her predisposed to 
pneumonia, which she contracted about twice a year, often leading to 
two-week hospital stints.
Now covered in hives again — and wary of having her baby relive her 
own experience — Alba spent late nights on Google and Wikipedia 
researching the contents not just of the offending detergent but also of
 everything in her bathroom cabinet and under her kitchen sink. “I was 
like, ‘How can this be safe for babies if I’m having this type of 
reaction?’” she says. What she found terrified her: petrochemicals, 
formaldehydes and flame retardants in everyday household products from 
floor cleaners to mattresses. Some were listed on the ingredients label 
plain as day, with others disguised under the catchall of “fragrance,” 
which is entirely legal.
Armed with Internet printouts and fear for the health of her unborn 
child, Alba first tried to shop around the problem but grew irritated 
trying to find natural and eco-friendly products that weren’t either 
extortionate or seemingly designed for yurt-dwelling vegan yogis. Or 
both. “I felt like my needs weren’t being met as a modern person,” she 
says. “I want beautiful design like everybody else. But it shouldn’t be 
premium-priced, and it should, of course, be safe.”
She tried making her own cleaning products out of baking soda, 
vinegar and essential oils but wound up with something closer to salad 
dressing. So when she came across Christopher Gavigan, who for seven 
years led a nonprofit called Healthy Child Healthy World, she, like most
 new mothers, asked him what to buy.
“They don’t want to be that investigatory weekend toxicologist,” says
 Gavigan. “They just want someone to hold their hand.” He explained that
 several companies with “green” credentials like Vermont-based Seventh 
Generation were doing good work across some product categories, but 
there was no one umbrella brand positioning itself as the go-to for all 
things eco-friendly, safe and nontoxic.
A lightbulb went off for both of them. Pretty soon Alba and Gavigan 
were polishing off wine on nights and weekends, cooking up a business 
plan and buying up Web domain names with the word “honest” in them. 
Through her husband, she met Web entrepreneur Brian Lee, a trained 
attorney who had hit it big with LegalZoom.com, an online 
legal-documentation service he cofounded with Robert Shapiro of O.J. 
Simpson infamy.
“I made some introductions for her and said good luck,” says Lee, who
 looked at Alba’s 50-page PowerPoint in 2009 but didn’t bite. He says 
now he was simply tied up launching subscription shoe site 
ShoeDazzle.com with then partner Kim Kardashian.
Meanwhile, Alba was busy with her Hollywood career, starring in the likes of 
Valentine’s Day, 
Little Fockers and 
Machete, all of which premiered in 2010.
Alba kept Gavigan on her payroll as a consultant. By 2011 she had 
turned herself into an expert on consumer products and traveled to 
Washington, D.C. to lobby for updated legislation. She was — and is — 
particularly focused on reforming the 1976 Toxic Substances Control Act,
 which has allowed more than 80,000 chemicals to remain in household 
products untested. Only five are regulated by the Environmental 
Protection Agency; just 11 are banned from consumer goods. (In Europe 
that figure is more than 1,300.) “Enough people have to get sick or die 
from a certain ingredient or chemical before it’s pulled from the 
marketplace,” says Alba.
 
 
 
 
Alba at Honest HQ in Santa Monica, Calif. Photo: Jamel Toppin for Forbes.
 
For Alba’s husband, Cash Warren, it was a lesson in climbing a steep 
learning curve. “I didn’t know much about all the chemicals that were in
 our consumer products, so she educated me on this epidemic,” he says. 
“It felt massive, so I was a little reserved at first. She jumped into 
it headfirst.”
She went back to Brian Lee in 2011 armed with data on the rise of 
childhood diseases and a much more concise ten-page pitch deck. Lee’s 
mind had changed — not coincidentally, he had recently become horrified 
when his young son was banned from bringing that classic, all-American 
lunch the PB&J sandwich to nursery school. Too many kids had severe 
nut allergies. “Autism, Tourette’s, chronic allergies and asthmas and 
celiac disease — all of this stuff is on the rise,” Lee says. “I almost 
had this moment of awakening. Why aren’t we doing something about this?”
Lee got on board with Alba and Gavigan that year, bringing with him a
 fourth cofounder in Sean Kane, who’d spent a decade selling discount 
products at Pricegrabber.com. Lee and Alba seeded their new startup to 
the tune of about $6 million, with another investor, according to a 
source close to the deal. (The company would not comment on initial 
investments or its founders’ current personal stakes.) The group called 
their new firm The Honest Company, as a nod to its values and 
transparent ingredients.
ONE WALL OF THE HONEST Company’s L.A. office showroom best represents
 its roots. On it you’ll find rows and rows of diapers, mounted, matted 
and framed. Each has a whimsical design on the butt. There’s one with a 
purple-and-green leopard print; there are juicy pink strawberries and a 
stars-and-stripes print perfect for baby’s first Fourth of July.
These are the diapers that gave The Honest Company its start and 
indeed still account for a large proportion of sales: About 75% of 
revenues still comes from online commerce, and the majority of that is 
from the company’s $79.95 monthly bundles of diapers and wipes.
During Alba’s days scouring supermarkets for safe baby detergent, she
 often wondered why no one in the retail or fashion world had yet come 
up with seasonal designs for diapers. “I kind of want them to be cute,” 
she says. “And the natural diapers: Why do they have to look like your 
baby’s wearing a brown bag?”
After having her first daughter, Honor, in the summer of 2008 (in 
2012 she had another daughter, Haven), Alba also found herself routinely
 running out of diapers in the middle of the night. She was toying with 
the idea of a subscription service for nontoxic household essentials — 
cleaning products, maybe diapers, too. But this was long before monthly 
cosmetics-sampling startup Birchbox launched, and that business model 
didn’t really exist.
Creating safe, chemical-free, nontoxic consumer goods from scratch 
without the infrastructure of, say, a Procter & Gamble or a 
Kimberly-Clark was a prospect that would cost way more than even the $6 
million seed fund. So they went looking to get venture capital into the 
diaper business. “That’s the only thing we pitched,” says Lee. “It was 
very strategic as we knew that was the way into your home.”
Lee was a known quantity among the venture capital firms of Palo 
Alto. Even so, The Honest Company took a gamble approaching backers 
without having made even a dollar of revenue. “They hadn’t shipped yet 
when we invested, so it was a leap of faith we don’t normally take in 
e-commerce businesses,” says Neil Sequeira, a managing director at 
General Catalyst Partners.
He was a big believer in online-only models, having backed pioneering
 eyeglasses e-tailer Warby Parker. He also liked the subscription aspect
 of the business: It took much of the pain — and expense — out of 
acquiring new customers. “Assuming they like it, the big Super Bowl ads 
and stuff become less important,” he says. Early on Honest relied on 
Facebook for efficient advertising instead of traditional campaigns. 
General Catalyst joined Lightspeed Venture Partners and Institutional 
Venture Partners in a 2012 Series A that raised $27 million.
That turned out to be just the start. As the diaper business proved 
its efficacy, Alba and her team — Lee serves as the CEO — reverted to 
the original concept: a single brand that carried its credibility across
 all products in the nontoxic universe. Raising a total of $127 million 
through August 2014, The Honest Company has been able to create more 
products in different categories — dish soap, kitchen cleaner, 
detergent, nipple balm, multivitamins and even nursery furniture.
Lee, Alba and their team intended for The Honest Company to remain 
online, where its revenues grew steadily thanks in part to the actress 
“trying to yell from the rooftops,” as she describes her marketing 
efforts. (She has over 5 million Instagram followers on her own 
account.)
But almost as soon as they launched, high-end mommy-and-baby 
boutiques with cutesy names (The Pump Station in west L.A. and The Upper
 Breast Side in Manhattan) cottoned on to The Honest Company, asking 
whether Lee and Alba had considered selling the brand in 
brick-and-mortar stores. Stock in these mom-and-pop shops sold out so 
quickly that when Costco came calling in 2013 wanting to sell baby 
shampoo in family-size packs, the Honest team relented. Since then Whole
 Foods, Nordstrom, Buy Buy Baby, Destination Maternity and even discount
 behemoth Target have started selling The Honest Company’s wares.
Two things stand out on their short-term agenda. First, international
 expansion. Honest products will debut in South Korea later this year 
and in China possibly in 2016. And then, most likely next year, a public
 offering, according to people familiar with the company. Such a move 
provides a war chest, though that doesn’t seem to be an issue at 
present. “The company’s outperforming,” says General Catalyst’s Neil 
Sequeira. “They have pretty much unlimited access to capital and a very 
strong balance sheet.” Liquidity, then, would seem to be the key driver.
With a big payday in the offing, Alba remains an active presence, 
much to the delight of her venture capital backers, who had built-in 
celebrity endorsement from a cofounder. “I think they realized they got a
 lot of bang for their buck,” Lee says. Alba still makes the occasional 
film, but she makes quick work of it. She shot her scenes for the 
upcoming movie adaptation of hit series Entourage in three hours. In 
2016 she’ll appear in a sequel to crime-caper mainstay Jason Statham’s 
The Mechanic. “It took ten days in November and ten days in January, and I got to be in a fun action movie,” she smiles.
Such efficiency is important when you have 130 customer service 
representatives to train in all things Honest. All told, there are now 
350 employees at two offices.
While Alba doesn’t have the time to travel the country educating 
retailers, she now has the next best person on her staff: her mother. A 
year ago Cathy Alba came on board at The Honest Company, spending two 
weeks a month telling store managers at Whole Foods and Buy Buy Baby 
outposts across the country about her daughter’s struggles with 
childhood illnesses. Cathy came out of retirement to take the gig. “I’m 
very much like Jessica,” she says. “All or nothing.”