When I was in college, I was poor, as most college students are, and coming up with Christmas presents that were not going to break the bank was a challenge. I've always kind of been a crafty type of girl, so I spent a lot of time browsing through Hobby Lobby, which was about two blocks away from where I worked at Books-A-Million, Barnes & Noble's illegitimate, and defensive about it, brother. Even back then, soap making wasn't really the rage in comparison to flower arranging and scrapbooking, so I missed the section that was dedicated to it. And by section, I mean, like half a shelf. A few weeks before Christmas, I was frantically searching for some cheap crafts to make for my mom, as I had already bought my dad and sister's gifts, and I ran across the sad excuse of the soap making selection: a few plastic containers full of glycerin, some cheap scented oils, and some micas to use for colorants. I figured, what the hell? Can't hurt!
My mom LOVED her present. I made her five, travel-sized bars of soaps, each one with a different scent and additives (I bought a kit, okay? Geez.). Both my mom and I have very sensitive skin, so I had to be sure that I wouldn't make something that would cause her to break out. She used all of the little soaps and even asked a few years later if I was planning on making more.
That began my obsession. I wanted to craft good-smelling soaps that I could use. I made gift baskets with these little soaps, none of which I would sell now. God, they were horrible. I didn't know anything about emulsifiers, traces, measurements, etc., and a lot of times, additives like oatmeal and poppy seeds would just kind of sink to the bottom of my molds. It didn't bother me then, because, hey, they were gifts. I hobbied away with the idea of someday, maybe, making it into a business. Then, the recession hit. I lost my job; I had to move in with my parents; it was a dark time in the Force. I spent nearly seven months with no job and very few prospects. Absolutely no one was hiring, except eventually the Department of Human Services. I had been spending so much time trying to figure out the employment issue, that I didn't really even try to do anything else, even after starting the job. I am an artist at heart - I draw, paint, write, create - but the recession dampened my desire to do any of it. Even though it remained dormant, it was always there. And then around six months ago, a friend of mine reminded me of my soaps. I had started drawing again, and I was getting reacquainted with my sorely ignored notebook. I can't remember exactly what went down that day, but I do remember coming home, thinking, "I'm going to start trying to set up my soap business!"
It also helps that I have a fabulously dedicated and supportive husband who has spent so much of his time fostering this little endeavor of mine. He has gotten behind me without any hesitation, so I think part of the reason I am doing this is because of him. For him.
But it's a bit more complex that. I want to bring as much comfort as I can to others, with something as simple as a lavender soap easing tension after a long day. It's kind of like what I talk about with my hairstylist (and by hairstylist, I mean, the stylist at Heads Up who I usually get for some reason): being able to help someone feel better about themselves, even for just a moment, is a wonderful gift. And THAT is why I make soap.
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