Nobody Warned Me Soapmaking Required This Much Shit

A completely reasonable hobby that somehow turned into an entire room full of oils, molds, powders, buckets, and questionable financial decisions.

This one practically writes itself based on what happens when you start making soap.

We can talk about how you start out thinking:

“I just need some oils, lye, fragrance, and a mold.”

And then suddenly you need lard, coconut oil, rice bran oil, castor oil, sodium hydroxide, kaolin clay, charcoal, 38 different micas, fragrance oils, essential oils, silicone molds, column molds, embeds, stick blenders, pitchers, scales, cutters, curing racks, packaging, labels...

Then you discover there are special molds shaped like ghosts, bees, pineapples, mustaches, gingerbread men and God knows what else, and now we're shopping at 11:30 at night because apparently the soap absolutely requires a tiny fucking saxophone running through the middle of it.

And somewhere in the middle:

The Fragrance Oil Problem

Nobody tells you fragrance oils reproduce when left unattended.

You buy one.

Then you need something fruity. Something masculine. Something clean. Something dirty. Something that smells expensive. Something that smells like a fancy hotel. Something tobacco-vanilla. Something called Monkey Farts because apparently we're adults running a legitimate business.

Next thing you know you've got enough fragrance oil to make your house smell like a Bath & Body Works suffered a catastrophic containment failure.

And Then There Are the Molds

This deserves its own confession.

I do not need another soap mold.

I know this.

You know this.

My bank account definitely knows this.

I am still going to look at soap molds.

Because what if someday I desperately need a ghost-shaped column embed?

Exactly.

But Here's the Weird Part...

Every box of supplies, every ridiculous mold, every fragrance test and every new piece of equipment represents something I'm learning how to do.

Six months ago, I wouldn't have known why one oil makes a harder bar than another, why certain fragrances turn soap brown, or why apparently there's an entire science behind getting a damn swirl to behave.

Now I'm building recipes, testing fragrances, designing bars and slowly creating a collection that actually feels like Wayward.

So yes, my house may currently contain enough soapmaking supplies to concern the authorities.

But we're building something.

One inappropriate bar at a time.

And apparently we're going to need another shelf.

Be good. Get dirty. Wash up.
— Wayward Soap Co.