Our Story

Once you use a handcrafted soap you won’t want to use name brand  commercial soap ever again. Ya know how I know? It happened to me and Sue.  We were standing on the sidewalk, chatting, being pulled this way and that by our beloved dogs (she has three dogs, I have three dogs — that’s another story) when we were approached by a neighbor “want some soap?” She bellowed, and thrust multiple bars at us forcing us to juggle leashes, and poop bags.  For health reasons our neighbor explained, she makes her own soap . . .  the soap you buy at the store, she said . . . is filled with chemicals, petroleum and solvents; and being a breast cancer survivor she was no longer willing to expose herself to anything that might lead to a reoccurrence. “Take it!” she insisted, turning on her heels and striding away “I’ve got more than I can use.” She said over her shoulder as she retreated to her front porch — her perch, where she kept an eye on all neighborhood happenings — the who’s who — the comings and goings of neighbor and stranger alike — swooping down on unsuspecting passers-by. She gave away so much soap, people started calling her Sudsy.

 

I was leery of Sudsy soap. Sudsy’s soap didn’t look like the oval-shaped dermatologist recommended name brand bar I’d trusted, and used since I was a child. Introduced by my grandmother to the family at the behest of her doctor, to remedy our dry skin. Somehow It didn’t matter that the soap didn’t alleviate our dry skin. The label said it moisturized, and a doctor recommend it so we kept on buying it. 

 

As a young adult when I began to buy my own soap, I bought my grandmothers, doctor recommended moisturizing soap. I used that bright-white, massed produce bar, with few exceptions, most of my life until I ran out one day and the only soap I had was Sudsy’s misshaped, off-white, handmade bar. I  had forgotten about it. It was tucked away on a shelf behind stacks of Costco’s toilet paper. Wearing only a towel — the water running for a shower, I sniffed Sudsy’s soap. It smelled good! I didn’t fully trust that it would’d burn me, give me a rash, or that it would clean me. With no alternative I used Sudsy’s soap and found it to be perfectly wonderful. The more I used it the more I like it. When I had used every bar Sudsy had given me I returned to my regular soap and oh no! It was immediately obvious to me it was an inferior product. I talked to Sue about it, she said her skin was softer and less dry.  Sudsy’s soap we concurred, was fabulous. It was superior to Granny’s dermatologist recommended soap, and Sue’s French boutique soap. There was distinct difference between the store bought bars me and Sue used, and Sudsy’s handcrafted soap. The next time we saw Sudsy we offered to buy soap from her, she obliged, and it was a good thing cause we were hooked. Her handcrafted, artisan soap was a marvelous revelation. Besides the noticeable difference to our skin it smelled amazing. An excellent product not comparable to the commercial soaps we used because as it turns out most brand name commercial soaps aren’t soap  . . . they are detergents.

 

 

That’s right! Most of the soap Americans buy, including the top selling bars in the country are detergents masquerading as soap — a fact hidden in plain sight, on the label, usually under the brand name where it slyly reads

. . .   “beauty bar,” or “bar soap.”  Check it out! The next time you’re in the store go to the soap aisle and start reading. Bar soap and beauty bars a.k.a  detergent abound. Now there’s nothing wrong with washing your body with a detergent . . . if you like that sort of thing, but they tend to be harsh on the skin — and dry it out. Dry skin equals aged skin, yikes! Petroleum based chemicals and preservative allows them to make their “soap” cheap,  mass produce and sell it making millions of dollars.

 

Detergent vs. Soap

 

The FDA defines soap as, the combination of alkali and fat. That’s it. That’s all soap is, alkali and fat. When alkali and fat mix they go through a process called saponification and become soap. The ingredients, in “beauty bars” and “bar soaps” don’t constitute soap. Beauty bars, and most bar soaps, are a sophisticated mix of chemicals that allow corporations to mass produce their products cheaply, with little regard  for peoples health, or the environment, then brilliantly marketed for maximum profit. But wait there’s more. The combination of alkali and fat — soap, forms glycerin, a natural moisturizer. Multi-billion dollar Commercial “soap” manufactures remove the naturally occurring glycerin from soap. Why do they remove the glycerin you ask . . .  they remove the glycerin to make among other things . . . lotion for your dry skin. It’s genius! Their beauty bars, composed of chemical hardeners, foaming agents and artificial fragrances contribute to dry skin. The naturally occurring glycerin that might prevent your skin from drying is removed and put into lotions (also filled with chemicals) to off set the drying effect of their adulterated “soap” sold to the public so they can then sell their lotion — because of course our skin is dry. How ya like that!

 

Lost Then Found, then Lost Again

Like I said, handcrafted soap was a revelation for me and Sue. We’d been wandering — lost on a barren commercial soap landscape. Shown the light by a neighbor, the beauty bars, shower gel, etcetera, are adulterated swill. When Sudsy moved away we were at a loss. We bought fancy soap from speciality stores. We bought artisan soaps from high-end grocery stores. For one reason or the other none of these satisfied, so I thought . . . if Sudsy can make soap so can we. We can pick the essential oils we like, and the body butters we like, we can customize every bar to our liking. 

 
Soap Obsessed Nerds

Sue and I are nerds. We cop to it. We like to read, so we bought and read soap making books and blogs. We watched people make soap on Youtube (nerds). Though ready and eager to start making soap we were’t confident we could do it without instruction, (nerds like instruction) so  me and Sue signed up for a soap making class at El Camino community college (nerds like school). The instructor — Abdul, was so much fun (kind of nerdy). Once you learn the chemistry of soap making, he said, the possibilities are endless! “You like beer!? Make beer soap!” “You like cucumber water! Make cucumber soap!” You like coffee!?, make coffee soap he said excitedly!

 

4 Weeks!

We made our first batch of soap in Abdul’s class. We poured it into plastic disposable containers — the ones you send home with family and friends, filled with leftover Thanksgiving turkey and stuffing. It takes 4-6 weeks for cold process soap to cure, an eternity for a new soaper. I couldn’t wait to wash my hand with it, to take a shower with it. I checked on my soap every day. I poked it, smelled it, squeezed the container it was in. I called Sue to ask her how her soap was doing, and what it looked like. Was it hard, was it soft, how did it smell? I was becoming soap obsessed. Sue and I were itching (pun intended) to make soap again. I Googled soap making, and found The Soap Collective in Long Beach run by Dr. John (Hi Dr. John). Dr. John taught Sue and me how to color soap, and add essential oils. We learned design techniques; we made soap with goat milk, and eggs.  Soon, me and Sue had a lot of soap, more than enough to give away for Christmas gifts, the original plan. This did not stop us from meeting once a week to make soap. We were soap obsessed — we were Sudsy — I personally chase neighbors up and down the sidewalk giving away our latest and greatest soap creation.  

Amore Soap is born

One evening, while soaping (making soap) at The Soap Collective, Dr. John asked the soapers (that’s what we call ourselves) if any of us were going to sell our soap, I said nah, Sue said people loved it why not sell it? 

 

Why not indeed?!