My Honest Take on Lavender Tallow Balm (And Why I Keep Using It)

Okay so. It’s like 9 PM. My hands are so dry they feel like paper. The kind that’s been left in the sun. I’m on the couch, one sock on, the other one lost somewhere. The TV’s on but I’m not watching. I just remember this little jar I ordered a while back. The lavender tallow balm thing. It sounded weird. Beef fat? For your face? I bought it because my skin was freaking out last winter and I was desperate. It arrived in this simple jar. I opened it.

The smell hit me first. Not like a candle. Not like soap. Just… lavender. But not the sharp, clean kind. This was different. Like if you crushed the actual flower between your fingers, outside, when it’s a little damp. It’s there, but it’s quiet. My cat looked up from licking his paw like “what’s that.” It’s a calming smell. Not a “spa day” calming, more like a “the day is finally over and you can just sit” calming. That’s the best I can do. I don’t know perfume words. It just smells good. Simple. Real.

I scooped a little. The texture was weird. Not bad weird. It’s solid in the jar but melts the second it touches your skin. Like butter left on the counter too long. I rubbed it into my hands. It felt… heavy at first. But then it was gone. Sunk right in. No greasy film. My hands just felt like hands again. Not paper. I sat there for a minute just smelling my own hands. That sounds strange. But it was nice.

Anyway. That was a few months ago. I’m on my second jar now.

How Beef Tallow for Skin Actually Makes Sense (To Me Now)

Look, I was skeptical. Putting beef fat on my face sounded like a joke. Or something my great-grandmother might have done. But then I read a bit. This stuff is made from grass-fed beef suet, whipped up in France. The big thing is it’s supposed to be really close to the oils our own skin makes. Our sebum, or whatever. So instead of sitting on top of your skin like some lotions, it gets in there. It makes sense when you think about it. Like recognizes like.

My skin last winter was a disaster. Windburn. Red patches. The whole thing. I tried this expensive cream from that fancy store at the mall. Fifty bucks. Did nothing. Felt like plastic. So I figured, what’s the worst that could happen with this tallow balm? It was cheaper, for one thing.

The first night I used it on my face, I was nervous. I put on a tiny bit. The lavender scent helped, honestly. Made it feel less clinical. Less weird. It just felt like putting on a night cream. A really, really simple one. I woke up and my skin wasn’t screaming at me. That was new.

What This Lavender Tallow Balm Actually Does

So my routine now? It’s not a routine. I’m bad at routines. But this jar lives on my bedside table. Next to my water glass and a pile of old receipts. Every night, after I brush my teeth, I open it. That’s the moment. The little pop of the lid. The smell comes out. It’s become this signal. Okay, day’s done. Brain can shut off.

I use it on my face, my hands, my elbows. My elbows were so rough. Like sandpaper. Not anymore. They’re just… elbows now. Normal. I use it on dry patches. I used a bit on a little eczema spot my kid had. Cleared up faster than the steroid cream the doctor gave us. I don’t know why. It just did.

It’s not magic. It doesn’t make you look 20 again. It just makes your skin feel like skin is supposed to feel. Hydrated. Not tight. Not angry. Just… settled. For someone with skin that gets sensitive and throws tantrums, that’s a big deal. The lavender scented tallow balm part is key for me. The plain one is fine, I guess. But the smell makes it an experience. Something I look forward to. Instead of a chore.

I got mine from this little Etsy shop. The jar is unlabeled, just simple. I like that. No screaming claims. Just a thing that works.

My Skin After a Few Weeks of This Stuff

The results aren’t dramatic in a “before and after photo” way. It’s subtler. My foundation doesn’t cling to dry patches anymore. That’s one thing. My hands don’t crack when I make a fist in the cold. That’s another. The skin on my cheeks feels softer. Not “baby soft” or whatever. Just… resilient.

I was making coffee the other morning and caught my reflection. My skin just looked calm. Rested. Even though I’d only slept like five hours. That’s the tallow, I think. And maybe the lavender doing its quiet thing. It’s a natural lavender skincare thing that doesn’t feel like you’re rubbing potpourri on your face. It’s just a good, honest smell.

Would I use it in summer? Maybe not as much. But for winter damage? For sensitive skin days? Absolutely. It’s my fixer. My reset button in a jar.

Quick Questions I Get Asked

Is beef tallow good for your face? Yeah, I think so. It sounds gross but the science-ish part makes sense. It’s similar to the oils our skin already produces, so it absorbs really well. It doesn’t just sit there. It’s like giving your skin something it already knows how to use.

Does tallow balm clog pores? Not in my experience. And I can get clogged pores pretty easy. Because it absorbs and mimics your skin’s sebum, it doesn’t seem to just block things up. It’s the opposite. My skin feels more balanced, not greasy. But hey, everyone’s different.

What does lavender tallow balm smell like? It smells like real lavender. Not fake or super strong. Like the plant. It’s earthy and herbal and a little sweet, but in a quiet way. It’s not a perfume smell. It’s a calming, bedtime smell. It’s the main reason I reach for this one over the unscented version.

So yeah. If your skin is being difficult, or just feels dry and unhappy, this might be worth a shot. I was skeptical too. Now I’m just a person with a little jar of whipped beef fat on my nightstand, smelling my hands before bed. And my skin’s happy. That’s all I wanted.