In the booming world of wellness supplements, Grüns has emerged as a popular choice for those seeking an easier way to get their daily greens. Marketed as tasty, organic gummy vitamins that deliver essential nutrients without the hassle of powders or pills, the product has garnered praise from influencers on social media platforms. However, a recent investigation by The Verge raises questions about whether Grüns' claims of being "clinically tested" hold up under scrutiny, particularly regarding benefits like improved digestion for users of GLP-1 medications such as Ozempic.
Grüns, a brand that positions its gummies as a fusion of gummy bears and green smoothies, has seen rapid success through targeted advertising and endorsements. Influencers frequently highlight the product's appeal, with one common refrain being, “My kids love these,” and another noting, “These taste way better than greens powders.” The company emphasizes that the gummies are free from allergens, sugar-free, vegan, and provide 100 percent of daily nutritional needs. Recent ads have even pitched the product as “Ozempic’s new bestie,” suggesting that a daily pack can help with better pooping amid the constipation side effects associated with those weight-loss drugs.
The allure is understandable. Many adults recall the unpleasant taste of childhood vitamins like Flintstones, which were chalky and gritty. Grüns taps into this nostalgia by offering squishy, sweet alternatives packed with whole organic ingredients, including soluble fiber as its top components. Yet, as The Verge senior reviewer Victoria Song explored in her weekly Optimizer newsletter published on an unspecified recent Friday, the brand's aggressive marketing may be blurring the lines between science and hype in the unregulated supplement industry.
Song's inquiry was prompted by reader requests to examine popular wellness brands. Upon visiting Grüns' website, she found a dedicated "science marketing page" boasting that the product is "clinically-tested." The page features a green gummy bear in a petri dish, echoing tactics used by competitors like AG1, another greens powder. It describes a 12-week, placebo-controlled, double-blind, randomized study involving blood tests on folate and vitamin C levels, with graphs purportedly showing increases from the gummies.
A footnote reveals the study included 120 healthy adults aged 23 to 59. However, according to Song's reporting, no link to the full study is provided on the site, leaving consumers to trust the company's word. Further investigation led her to Citruslabs, the contract research organization that conducted the trial. Citruslabs' page on the study offers slightly more detail, including four bullet points on design and methodology, and claims it "adhered to rigorous scientific standards." Results highlighted include "significant increases" in folate compared to placebo and "clinically shown to boost Vitamin C levels." Notably absent is any mention of improved digestion or pooping benefits.
Citruslabs, which serves wellness and cosmetics brands like Blume, Mario Badescu, Hum, and Green Chef, positions itself as a one-stop shop for clinical research, from study design to participant recruitment. But Song points out that the firm also conducts consumer perception studies, where users self-report opinions after trying a product. These differ markedly from rigorous clinical trials, yet the overlap can confuse consumers. For instance, Grüns' site lists stats below the clinical results, such as “67 percent say their overall health and well-being have improved” and “44 percent report clearer thinking and better focus.” A claim of 67 percent reporting “better, more regular digestion” stems not from the clinical study but from a post-purchase survey of 3,000 customers, as disclosed in a footnote.
Grüns CEO Chad Janis has defended the product on LinkedIn, posting, “‘Gummy vitamins don’t work.’ (Spoiler: Grüns did a clinical study. The results are good.)” He dismissed criticisms of gummy vitamins as a “convenient myth” propagated by pill and powder companies, then cited the consumer survey results to bolster his case. Song notes that while the clinical study confirms the gummies raise folate and vitamin C levels compared to no supplementation—a result one might expect from any vitamin product—it does not compare Grüns to alternatives like traditional multivitamins or greens powders, nor does it address digestion specifically.
Experts have long cautioned about the limitations of gummy vitamins. According to Song's review, they are often less effective than tablets or powders due to perishability issues. Grüns uses a proprietary blend, obscuring exact amounts of each ingredient, and focuses on soluble fiber while omitting insoluble forms, which are key for digestion. While the gummies provide 6 grams of fiber—a notable amount—the company has not responded to Song's questions about the study's presentation or why full details are not shared publicly.
The study, conducted by Citruslabs, has not been peer-reviewed or published in a journal, a step that, while not required for supplements, is common for brands seeking legitimacy. Song reached out to Grüns for clarification but received no response as of her article's publication. This lack of transparency stands in contrast to the company's willingness to link third-party certificates for contaminants like pesticides and heavy metals.
To test the hype firsthand, Song sampled the gummies. Influencers raved about the taste, but online skeptics compared them to “crumbly, grass pellets,” with one reviewer shown gagging. Song described opening a packet as overwhelming with a chemical-like smell; the gummies were firm with a sandy grit and grassy aftertaste, more like fruit leather than true gummy bears. “Texturally, it’s a no for me,” she wrote, adding she would prefer swallowing a pill over eating them.
This episode highlights broader trends in the wellness sector, often dubbed the “Wild West” due to minimal regulation. Brands like Grüns leverage “clinical testing” as a marketing tool, sometimes through firms like Citruslabs that offer both scientific trials and perception studies. Song has previously examined similar claims from AG1 and Huel, finding that terms like “significant” can be subjective without full data access. For GLP-1 users hoping for constipation relief, the 6 grams of fiber might help, but it could also cause gastrointestinal distress depending on diet and hydration—no guarantees are backed by the study.
Consumer trust is at stake in an industry rife with snake oil. While voluntary testing aims to differentiate reputable products, blurring scientific and anecdotal evidence undermines that goal. Grüns' approach, per Song, implies trustworthiness while sidestepping key consumer questions, such as how it stacks up against established supplements.
As wellness marketing evolves, calls for greater transparency grow. Song invites readers to suggest other brands for review via optimizer@theverge.com. For now, potential buyers of Grüns may weigh the enticing pitches against the limited verifiable evidence, consulting healthcare providers especially if using medications like Ozempic.
The supplement market's growth shows no signs of slowing, with gummies appealing to a broad audience from picky eaters to busy parents. Yet incidents like this remind consumers that “clinically backed” does not always equate to comprehensive proof. Regulatory bodies have not weighed in on Grüns specifically, but ongoing scrutiny from journalists and experts could push for clearer standards.
In the end, while Grüns offers a convenient nutrient boost, its story underscores the need for caution in the pursuit of health hacks. As Song concludes, clinical testing is becoming a side hustle in wellness, a way to signal science without fully delivering answers.