The irony of soapmaking is that it’s a messy business. The oils involved slime everything. Bits of raw soap cling to your kitchen cabinets, molds, cutters and self. Equipment must be washed and put up. And everything smells of lavender. For days. (Obviously, it could be worse.)
Once you go homemade, though, you never go back.
It’s what the soap doesn’t do that makes it special. It doesn’t make you itch like a mad dog from head to toe. It doesn’t encourage angry raw places to appear on winter skin. And it doesn’t smell like horse piss and gardenias. At the risk of sounding like a Calgon commercial, it makes showering a lathery, sensual delight. (Get two soapmakers together and they'll talk suds and bubbles like spinners talk staple-length and microns.)
Unfortunately, I make butt-ugly soap. I’ve invested in molds, slicers, colorants. I take pains when I line my molds to smooth any creases in the wax paper. Still it’s ugly like a mud daub on an old fence. But ooh boy, get it into the shower…like butta.
You wanna see some pretty soap? Check out the work of this soap blogger. Lovely. If you want to treat yourself to some homemade bars, visit local farmer’s markets, indie health food stores or check out the amazing offerings at Etsy. (I’m partial to DesertBlends of Taos.)
And get ready to kiss your Dove bar, goodbye!
1. Soap curing in molds
2. Soap log languishing, ready to be cut.
3. Soap log awaiting the knife in cutter.
4. Soap cutting in process.
5. Three more weeks of curing and it’s bath time!
