Lidl sells a callus remover for €13 that Scholl charges almost €40 for

Lidl sells a callus remover for €13 that Scholl charges almost €40 for

An electric callus remover that costs almost €40 at the pharmacy and another that goes for €12.99 in a supermarket's bazaar line. Same function, same type of rotating roller, and a price difference of roughly three times. The figure doesn't come from a brochure: it comes from the experience of someone who paid for the first and someone who, afterwards, bought the second and found the result just as smooth.

The case is a small manual of household consumerism. The expensive machine was justified by brand and pharmacy; the cheap one sold out the day it went on sale, with buyers waiting for the doors to open to grab one. And in between, a handful of alternatives ranging from a one-euro cutter to the bladed device sold in grocery supermarkets.

How much does it cost to remove a callus: €40, €13 or one

The starting point is a Scholl brand callus remover seen at a pharmacy for almost **40 euros**. The doubts were reasonable: whether it works, whether the roller lasts, whether it heats the skin. The most useful answer came from a nearby case: a user who bought it on offer with a replacement roller and who, after heavy use, still had the original roller almost intact. It doesn't heat the area, doesn't hurt and leaves the skin smooth. It runs on **four AA batteries**, accepts rechargeables and is used on a completely dry foot, because the roller turns the skin into dust.

The problem is that this same buyer profile then came across the Lidl version: **12.99 euros**, same rotating-roller logic and, according to whoever tried it, without overheating anything if you trinc the instructions. The conclusion that prevailed was the usual one: when two devices do the same thing, the brand and the sales channel explain almost the entire price difference.

Why the pharmacy machine doesn't always win

The pharmacy version has a natural defender: the counter. But it also has an expectations problem. According to the account of a pharmacy customer, complaints from buyers were frequent because the device didn't deliver what was promised, didn't outperform the competition and cost much more. The bazaar alternative, on the other hand, was described as more versatile —it also works for manicure and pedicure— and with less heating of the area.

There lies the paradox of own-brand consumption: the cheap product isn't judged by its price, but by whether it matches the expensive one. And when it does, the expensive one isn't justified by quality, but by the packaging.

Cutter, pumice stone or blade: the low-cost alternatives

Not everyone needs a motor. Manual options come up strongly: the one-euro-shop cutter, the horizontal-blade type tools, the good old pumice stone and all kinds of ointments. The argument is simple: for an occasional callus, you don't need a battery-powered device. The risk is also simple, and worth saying: an uncontrolled blade on the skin can cut more than intended. For thick calluses, some people turn to the handled blade sold in grocery supermarkets, cheap and effective according to testimonials.

In between there's an option that isn't a device: a professional pedicure at a specialised salon, which does the complete job, from nails to ankle, without the user having to learn the technique.

The callus that comes back: every eight days or never

The question that closes the matter is recurrence. The answer gathered is that it depends on the person: some calluses never come back and others ask for a touch-up **every eight days**. The roller, in the case of the pharmacy machine, lasts a long time, but the replacement doesn't seem easy to find. And the real cost isn't the device: it's the time and consistency.

The scene from the day of the sale sums it up: several people rushing to the shelf first thing in the morning. They weren't after a treat. They were after the cheap version of something they already knew worked.

How much of that pharmacy price pays for the brand, and how much for the person in a white coat selling it to you?