Okay so I was putting this stuff on my face last night. The lavender tallow balm. And my cat was staring at me. Like, really judging. I guess rubbing beef fat on your cheeks at 11 PM looks weird. But my skin hasn’t felt this… normal? in months. I don’t know. I was just standing there, my feet were cold on the bathroom tile, and I realized I hadn’t thought about my skin being tight or itchy all day. That never happens.
It started because I was fed up. This was back in, I don’t know, early April maybe. That weird spring where it’s sunny but your skin still feels like winter left it for dead. My whole face was just angry. Red patches near my nose. My forehead was a flaky mess. I’d tried everything. That fancy cream from the department store that cost like eighty bucks. The “gentle” drugstore lotion that made my cheeks burn. The whole shelf under my sink was a graveyard of failed promises. I was scrolling on my phone one night, really late, and I saw someone talking about tallow balm. Beef tallow. For your face. My first thought was, obviously, “you have got to be kidding me.” But I was desperate. And curious. The kind of curious you get at 1 AM when you’re out of options.
How I Ended Up Putting Beef Fat on My Face
So I looked it up. This specific one was a whipped tallow balm. From some small shop on Etsy, based in France. Made from grass-fed beef suet, whipped up into this cream. The description said it mimics human skin oil, so it sinks in deep instead of sitting on top. Sounded like marketing talk, but also… kind of made sense? Like, if your skin’s own oil is the best thing for it, maybe using something super similar isn’t the craziest idea. I was skeptical, big time. But the reviews were all these normal people saying it just… worked. For dry skin, for psoriasis spots, even for chapped lips. No miracle claims, just “my skin stopped hurting.” That’s all I wanted.
I ordered the lavender one. Because the listing said it was calming, good for night. My brain needed calming. The whole switching to natural products thing felt overwhelming, but starting with one jar of something seemed doable. My natural skincare routine began with a jar of beef fat. Let that sink in.
It showed up in a little box. The jar was smaller than I pictured. For some reason I thought it’d be huge. I opened it right there in my kitchen, under the gross fluorescent light. Here’s the thing—it doesn’t look like much. Just off-white cream. I poked it. It was firm but soft, like cold butter. I took a sniff. Lavender? Yeah, but not the sharp, soapy kind. More like… dried lavender from a garden. Herbal. Old-school. Not sweet. It just smelled clean and quiet. I put a tiny bit on the back of my hand. It melted. Like, immediately. Went from a blob to nothing, just left my skin feeling sort of… matte? But not dry. Weird. Not bad weird.
What This Lavender Tallow Balm Actually Does
The first night I used it, I was so careful. Washed my face with just water, patted it dry. My skin felt tight already, that awful squeaky feeling. I scooped a pea-sized amount—way less than I’d use of regular moisturizer—and rubbed it between my palms. It warmed up fast. Then I just pressed it onto my face. Didn’t rub hard. Just pressed.
It absorbed. Like, really fast. I was waiting for this greasy film, but it wasn’t there. My skin just felt… calm. Hydrated but not slick. I could touch my face and it didn’t feel sticky. That was new. I went to bed expecting to wake up a greaseball or with a new zit.
I didn’t. My skin felt soft. Not “baby soft” or whatever, just… mine. Like it used to feel. The red patch by my nose was less angry. Just pink instead of red. That was day one.
I kept using it. Just at night. My tallow balm daily use became this little ritual. Wash face, scoop balm, press it in. Sometimes I’d put a tiny bit on my knuckles, which are always cracked. The cat kept judging. Whatever.
After a week, the flakiness on my forehead was just gone. Not “improved.” Gone. I didn’t even notice until I went to put on sunscreen one morning and there was no rough texture for it to pill on. My skin just drank it. That’s when I started to believe this wasn’t a fluke. This beef tallow for skin thing had some legs.
My Skin After a Few Weeks of This Stuff
I want to be super clear. This isn’t a dramatic transformation photo. I didn’t turn into a glowing goddess. My pores didn’t vanish. It’s subtler. Better.
The best way to describe it is my skin just… stopped being a problem. It stopped feeling tight an hour after washing it. It stopped getting those random dry, itchy spots. The constant background irritation I didn’t even fully acknowledge until it was gone—that left. My complexion evened out a bit. The lavender scent thing, I think that actually helped? Not like magic anxiety relief, but the act of putting it on was so simple and the smell was so un-perfumey that it did make the whole process relaxing. A signal that the day was over. Time for my face to chill out.
I used it on other stuff too. Got a paper cut? Slapped a tiny bit on. Chapped lips? Worked better than any waxy lip balm I’ve tried. My elbows, which are normally like sandpaper, are actually presentable now. It’s just a really versatile salve. I keep the jar on my nightstand. It’s half empty.
Oh, and I told my mom about it. She has psoriasis on her hands. She was even more skeptical than me. “Beef fat, really?” But she tried it. Texted me two days later: “What’s the name of that Etsy shop again?” That’s the real testament. When your mom, who has tried every drugstore cream since 1985, asks for the link.
Would I Buy This Lavender Tallow Balm Again?
Yeah. I already did.
I’m on my second jar. The first one lasted me a good two months, using it almost every night. I got the same one, the lavender tallow balm from that French maker on Etsy. It’s just become part of my life now. I don’t think about my skincare routine much anymore, which is the whole point, right? I just have this one thing that works.
It’s not fancy. It doesn’t come in flashy packaging. The concept is admittedly strange. But sometimes the simple, weird thing is the answer. My skin barrier was clearly messed up from all the other products, and this stuff just helped it fix itself. It’s like it gave my skin what it needed to do its own job.
Anyway. If you’re scrolling late at night, frustrated with lotions that burn or creams that don’t work, maybe give it a look. If your skin is being difficult, might be worth a shot. I’m just some person on the internet, but my face is genuinely happier. And my cat has finally stopped judging me. I think.
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Quick Questions I Get Asked
Is beef tallow good for your face?
Weirdly, yes. The science-y reason is that it’s very similar to the oils our own skin produces. So it absorbs well and doesn’t just sit on top clogging things up. It’s like giving your skin a familiar building block to work with instead of a bunch of synthetic stuff it doesn’t recognize.
Does tallow balm clog pores?
Hasn’t for me. And I’m prone to getting clogged pores. Because it absorbs so deeply, it doesn’t leave a pore-clogging layer. It feels more like it’s moisturizing from within, if that makes any sense. My skin actually feels clearer since I started using it.
What does the lavender tallow balm smell like?
It’s a straight-up herbal lavender smell. Not sweet, not like candle or soap. More like crushed dried lavender leaves. It’s earthy and calming and fades pretty quickly after you put it on. It’s not overpowering at all, just a nice, clean scent for bedtime.