That Lavender Tallow Balm I Slap On My Face Before Bed

Okay so it’s like 10:30. My face feels tight. Like, weird tight. From the heater being on all day. I’m already in my stupidly expensive pajamas that I got on sale but still feel guilty about, and I’m staring at my bathroom shelf. The usual stuff is there. The serum that cost too much. The moisturizer in the fancy jar. And then this little tin. The whipped tallow balm. The lavender one. I was so weirded out by the idea at first. Beef fat? For my face? Sounded like something my great-grandma would have used, not me. But my skin last winter was a disaster. Flaky. Angry. Like a dried-up riverbed. So I caved. Got this tallow balm from some small shop on Etsy because the reviews were all like “it changed my skin!!” and I was desperate. Anyway. That’s where I am now. About to use it. Again.

How This Beef Tallow Thing Got Into My Routine

It started because nothing else worked. I tried that thick cream from the drugstore. The one in the blue tub. Made my face feel like it was wrapped in plastic. Then I tried the fancy French pharmacy lotion. Smelled nice. Did nothing. My knuckles were cracking. My cheeks were red. It was bad. I was scrolling Etsy one night, probably at 1 AM, looking for wool socks or something, and this tallow balm popped up. Lavender. For sleep. The pictures looked… simple. Just a tin. The description said it was whipped beef tallow from grass-fed cows. Made in France. I remember thinking “this is either genius or completely gross.” But they said it mimics human skin oil. Sebum. So it sinks in deep instead of sitting on top. For dry skin, eczema, winter damage. All the stuff I had. I figured, what’s the worst that could happen? So I ordered it.

The tin showed up like a week later. Smaller than I thought. I opened it. The texture was weird. Not bad weird. Like cold butter that’s been whipped with a mixer. Solid but soft. I poked it. It smelled like lavender. But not like a candle. More like… actual dried lavender from a garden? Or maybe like the sachet my mom puts in her linen closet. It was strong at first but then it faded. I was skeptical. But I washed my face, patted it dry, and scooped out a tiny bit. Like, half a pea size. Rubbed it between my fingers to warm it up. It melted. Became almost oily but not greasy. I just patted it all over my face. And my neck. And my sad, cracked knuckles.

What This Lavender Tallow Balm Actually Does

Here’s the thing. It doesn’t feel like a lotion. It’s not creamy. It’s more like… a seal. But a breathable one? I don’t know how to describe it. You put it on and your skin just drinks it. There’s no residue. No shiny film. My face just feels like my face, but not thirsty anymore. The tightness is gone in like two minutes. That’s the main thing. The lavender part… I don’t know if it’s psychosomatic. Probably. But the smell is calming. It’s not a sweet perfume. It’s herbal. Timeless, I guess. It just smells like night. Now it’s part of my whole wind-down thing. Brush teeth. Floss (sometimes). Splash water on face. Pat dry. Then the tallow balm. I do it right before I get into bed. The ritual of it, the smell… it tells my brain to shut off. It’s like a signal. Okay, day is done. Time for sleep. Anxiety relief? Maybe. It’s just… soothing. My hands don’t snag on the sheets anymore. That’s a win.

I use it other times too. If I’m working from home and my hands feel like sandpaper, I’ll dip a finger in the tin. After a shower, when my skin is still damp, I’ll put a bit on my elbows and knees. Those are always the worst. They haven’t been this smooth since… I don’t know when. High school? It’s become my daily skincare with tallow, I guess. Not just my face. Any patch that feels rough or angry gets a dab. It’s like the fix-it tin. Oh, and I use way less than I thought. That little tin lasts forever. I’ve had it since November and I’m maybe halfway through.

My Skin After a Few Weeks of This Stuff

So the changes weren’t overnight. But after a week, maybe ten days, I noticed my foundation wasn’t clinging to dry patches. That was huge. After two weeks, my husband said my skin looked “glowy” one morning. He never notices anything. I looked in the mirror and he was right. It wasn’t shiny. It was just… healthy. Not red. Not flaky. Just calm. My skin barrier thing must have been wrecked, and this tallow balm routine just… fixed it? It makes sense if you think about it. Our skin knows what to do with animal fats. It’s similar to what we already make. All those plant oils and synthetic stuff in regular moisturizers, my skin was like “I don’t know what this is, get it off me.” But this? It just recognizes it. Absorbs it. No fight.

I should probably order another jar soon. Just to have it ready. I told my mom about it. She has eczema on her hands. Real bad. I gave her my tin to try for a weekend. She texted me “what is in this magic butter?” and ordered her own. That’s the best review I can give. I didn’t sell it to her. She just tried it and was like, yep, this works.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Yeah, weirdly, it is. From what I read, it’s really close to the oils our own skin produces. So it gets absorbed deep instead of just coating the top. It doesn’t feed the yeast that can cause issues for some people, either. It just helps your skin repair itself.

Does tallow balm clog pores? Hasn’t for me. And I can get clogged pores pretty easy. It’s non-comedogenic, which means it shouldn’t clog things. It feels rich but it sinks right in. Doesn’t leave a pore-clogging film like some heavy creams do.

What does the lavender tallow balm smell like? It smells like real lavender. Not air freshener lavender. More like dried herbs, earthy and a little sweet. It’s strong when you open the tin but once you rub it in, it mellows out fast. Just leaves a little calming scent. It’s nice. Helps me sleep.

Anyway. If your skin is being difficult, especially in the winter, this might be worth a shot. I was super skeptical. Now I’m just… not. It just works. I don’t know what else to say. My skin’s happy, I’m happy, and that little tin from that Etsy shop is now a permanent resident on my shelf. Might grab another one for my desk. You know, for the knuckles.