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Countless influencers are raving about Grüns. These gummy vitamins are not only delightful, but they’re loaded with organic ingredients and far more palatable than those chalky powders or pills. I vividly recall the gritty, vaguely fruity taste of Flintstones vitamins from my childhood—a distaste so strong it motivated me to learn how to swallow pills just to avoid them. So, the gummy vitamin trend makes perfect sense. Soft, sweet, and fun, who wouldn’t prefer their nutrients in a candy-like form?

Imagine if a gummy bear and a green smoothie had a baby—that’s Grüns for you. While chewable vitamins have been around, Grüns has soared in popularity thanks to its savvy social media marketing. I kept seeing the same catchy phrases: “My kids love these,” “Better tasting than greens powders,” and “Allergen-free, sugar-free, vegan, providing 100% of your daily needs.” Particularly notable were two influencers who began their videos with, “Receiving something for free doesn’t mean you have to give a positive review,” only to then praise Grüns with familiar selling points. Recently, I’ve also noticed ads targeting GLP-1 users, suggesting the gummies are “Ozempic’s new bestie,” claiming a daily pack will improve digestive regularity.

It’s often obvious when influencers are reciting a scripted pitch for a brand. But with frequent exposure, curiosity is bound to spark in some viewers. Honestly, does anyone truly enjoy the taste of green powder drinks? What parent hasn’t fretted over their picky eater’s nutrition? It’s unlikely anyone eagerly leaps out of bed just to take a Centrum multivitamin. Add in appealing packaging and a pseudo-scientific spin, and welcome to the unpredictable realm of wellness.

Recently, I reached out to Optimizer readers to find out which popular wellness brands piqued their interest. Grüns was among the top choices. Upon visiting their website, it was also one of the few that featured a dedicated science marketing page. I was ready for the usual mix of science-washing: terms like “clinically proven” or “scientifically backed,” questionable graphs, celebrity endorsements, and a sprinkle of scientific jargon to lend an air of credibility. All boxes checked.

There are several aspects of Grüns that warrant scrutiny. Experts often point out that gummy vitamins can be less effective than their tablet or powder counterparts due to reasons like perishability. Moreover, Grüns uses a proprietary blend, which means the exact quantities of its organic ingredients remain undisclosed. Additionally, the top ingredients are soluble fiber, lacking the insoluble types. It’s crucial to note that while supplements—whether in powdered or gummy form—can be beneficial, they aren’t magical replacements for consuming actual vegetables. For this piece, I’ll focus on whether Grüns’ clinical trials substantiate any of its marketing promises.

Grüns’ science page has the word “clinically-tested” right up top. The lead image is a green gummy bear sitting in a petri dish — it’s highly reminiscent of the marketing on the science page for AG1, another viral greens powder product. Scroll down, and you’ll see a green bear mascot called Dr. Barry holding a clipboard next to words like “12 weeks,” “placebo-controlled,” “double-blind,” and “randomized.” There’s a paragraph explaining that Grüns ran blood tests to see whether folate and vitamin C levels increased in participants. (Unsurprisingly, the graphs say the gummies did.) You have to squint at a footnote to see that the clinical study involved 120 healthy adults aged 23 to 59.

But nowhere is there a link to the actual study. Based on Grüns’ site alone, you’d have to just take their word for it.

This is likely because this clinical study wasn’t peer-reviewed or published in a journal. That’s not inherently a crime. Peer-review is an expensive process, and technically, it can be overkill for smaller companies in the wellness space. Supplements aren’t regulated, and therefore, this kind of testing isn’t required. Even so, brands that do partake in any kind of research are usually keen to publicly link to any sort of “proof,” be it an internal white paper or citations to external studies that back up claims.

Voluntarily testing products adds an air of legitimacy, but Grüns’ lack of source material is a bit of a red flag. Especially since further down on the page, Grüns has no problem linking to third-party testing certificates for pesticides, heavy metals, and other contaminants.

Some internet sleuthing led me to Citruslabs, which ran the clinical study. It, too, had a page describing the Grüns study, in slightly more detail. Emphasis on slightly.

On the one hand, you can see four bullet points that sort of clarify the study’s design and methodology. There’s a sentence that mentions that “the trial adhered to rigorous scientific standards.” As for the results, six bullet points say things like “significant increases” in folate compared to placebo, “improved biomarkers,” and “clinically shown to boost Vitamin C levels.” Nowhere is there a mention of the gummies helping study participants poop better. At the end of the page, there are three sentences about the benefits of clinical research and how Grüns “demonstrates transparency, scientific rigor, and a true commitment to consumer health” for having used Citruslabs’ services.

I’m not saying this clinical study doesn’t exist, or that the research wasn’t done. But the presentation leaves much to be desired. The generous read is that Grüns and Citruslabs have opted to make the study digestible. However, the reality is you’re being asked to take Citruslabs and Grüns’ word that they haven’t used marketing spin to exaggerate results. Case in point, AG1 also made claims about significant increases in certain biomarkers on its marketing page. When I reviewed the AG1 study’s data, it was a reminder that “significant” can be an incredibly subjective word.

I couldn’t do that with this Grüns study. I reached out to the company to ask why it chose to present the study’s results in this way, but haven’t gotten a response.

To me, the most interesting thing here is how clinical testing has not only become a marketing tactic, but a product in and of itself.

Citruslabs, for example, is a contract research organization (CRO). Medical tech and pharmaceutical companies use them to outsource some aspects of clinical testing, often with the goal of reducing cost. The company’s site markets itself as a one-stop shop for consumer health brands that might want clinical research to back up their brands. That means everything from crafting study design and recruiting participants to securing ethical board review if applicable. It counts several well-known brands and companies among its client list across the wellness and cosmetics industries, including Blume, Mario Badescu, Hum, and Green Chef.

Critically, clinical studies are not the only thing the company provides. They also conduct consumer perception studies. As in, consumers are asked to give their self-reported opinion of a product after using it. You can usually tell the difference in wording. In perception studies, you often see phrases like “80 percent of users said X condition improved after using Y product for Z weeks.” Self-reported data like this has many limitations, not least of which are bias and misremembered information. But, perusing Citruslabs’ client list, it’s very easy to assume every brand on there is doing rigorous scientific research on its products, when many are just getting a form of consumer feedback for marketing purposes.

Blurring the lines between these two types of studies can lead to some confusion. Let’s go back to Grüns’ science page. Underneath its clinical study results, it lists statistics like “67 percent say their overall health and well-being have improved” while “44 percent report clearer thinking and better focus.” The survey claims 67 percent have reported “better, more regular digestion” but that could mean anything from less bloating to more pooping. Crucially, that data is not from its clinical study — it’s from a post-purchase consumer survey of 3,000 customers. While that’s disclosed in a footnote on the site, it’s not hard to see how laypeople might conflate the two types of “evidence.”

Perusing LinkedIn, I saw a post from Grüns CEO Chad Janis deriding skeptics. “‘Gummy vitamins don’t work.’ (Spoiler: Grüns did a clinical study. The results are good.)” Janis goes on to paint criticisms of gummy vitamins as a “convenient myth” spread by pill and powder companies, and then launches into the consumer survey results. He’s using the wellness grifter playbook by saying: Science says it works, you can’t trust what the supplement establishment says about them, and here’s anecdotal proof to further validate their position.

I can understand why wellness companies are turning to “clinical research” and CROs like Citruslabs. There’s a lot of snake oil in the unregulated supplement market. In essence, this is an attempt to stand out and earn consumer trust by “doing the science.” But that’s undermined when scientific and consumer studies are blurred together. Grüns’ clinical study only proves that compared to no vitamin supplementation, eating Grüns gummies will increase folate and vitamin C levels. It says nothing about how the gummies compare to greens powders or traditional multivitamins. Frankly, one would expect that taking a supplement increases certain nutrient levels. What consumers likely want to know is how the gummies compare to the products Grüns wants to replace. Based on the ads, GLP-1 users might want to know if these gummies will help with constipation. It might, or it might not. While 6g of fiber is a significant amount for a single product, that’s not a guarantee you’ll poop more efficiently. You might! You might also end up with gastrointestinal distress, depending on your current hydration and diet.

The problem with this study is that it doesn’t answer these questions at all.

My deep dive into Grüns wouldn’t be complete without trying the gummies. Especially since influencer after influencer raved about the taste, while several commenters called bullshit, noting the gummies were more akin to crumbly, grass pellets. One “honest” review I saw featured a woman gagging after trying a few. Online, hyperbole runs in both directions.

My verdict: It’s generous to call Grüns gummy bears. Opening a packet, I was overwhelmed with a chemical-like smell. The gummies themselves are strangely firm, with a slight sandy grit when you bite into them and an odd, grassy aftertaste. They’re not horrible, but they’re more like compact bits of fruit leather than a gummy bear. Texturally, it’s a no for me. Would I choose them over the Flintstone vitamins of my youth? Honestly, I’d rather swallow a pill. Without a clear win on taste, the rest of Grüns’ pitch rings even more hollow.

All-in-all, this was another excursion into the wellness Wild West that underscored how “clinically backed” is losing any sort of meaning. Instead, clinical testing is starting to feel like a side hustle of its own. A way for companies to imply trustworthiness, while actually skirting the actual questions consumers want answered.