So, it’s early and I can’t sleep. I’m remembering in the early 1980’s when I worked as a Purchasing Agent for the State of Ohio Department of Corrections. An old TB hospital was being converted to a minimum security prison for older and infirmed inmates and I had been hired on among the first round of employees. My job was to research and procure building materials, inmate supplies, kitchen equipment, etc. to outfit the facility. I loved the challenge of finding all these things despite our rural location. The local hardware store loved us – we boosted their sales tremendously. I don’t think they ever knew that the two men who routinely appeared at their door were two lifers from Chillicothe Correctional who worked at our prison.
My office mate was a young woman about my age who had lived in Nelsonville Ohio all her life. She lived with her boyfriend and chatted on endlessly about everything, including bragging rights regarding her homemade bread. I felt envious that she had time, working full time to make bread before coming to work. My commute was longer than hers by about 100% since she lived right down the hill from Hocking Correctional Facility. I was also pregnant with my first child and was extraordinarily tired much of the time. I’d momentarily fall asleep sitting up at my desk in the afternoons realizing that I couldn’t see anything because my eyes were closed! That was also the year of the daily Snicker bar – I’m still paying for that 26 years later…..
I also had a second job at home. Home was an activity center for former mental patients who had been outed on the street in Athens, Ohio with little to no daily living skills. My then husband and I lived there in exchange for a 15 hour work week and exemplifying a “normal” daily living family. We were anything but normal. It was quite an education for me in the field of mental illness. Our guests ran the gamut from mildly disturbed to full blown schizophrenia, hearing voices, yelling at the TV, stalking the house, etc. My Mom was not too happy with her newlywed daughter’s choice – but my husband was a first year medical student and we had no money save for my income.
So, getting back to Brenda in the office, we were two of three females who worked at the prison which caused us to forge a rather unlikely friendship. One of the kind that survives the work day and nothing else. Occasionally I would go with her to her home at lunch time, mostly just to get off the grounds and split the day. Being surrounded by men who were imprisoned long-term could sometimes be a little intimidating. Our two bosses were wonderful guys, my immediate boss was Mr. Hamburger and his teenage daughters worked at McDonalds – no kidding.
I remember the day well when Brenda said she needed to go home and put the bread out to rise. When we arrived she proceeded to take three pre-formed loaves out of a commercial bag in the freezer and toss them in a pan that she then left on the counter. I don’t remember the brand, only the feeling that this was not my hauty idea of “making” bread, and furthermore, no wonder she had time to “make” bread before coming to work.
So it goes with some soap “makers”. You’ll find these same people on the internet, at farmer’s markets, classy arts and crafts shows etc., who tout their wares as handmade, when really they are hand “assembled”. I guess one could argue that there’s a fine line between taking raw ingredients and creating something new versus using pre-assembled unknown ingredients.
For my own purposes I’ve devised several ways of getting at this information. I may ask a vendor questions such as, “where do you purchase your lye?” or “where do you purchase your bulk oils?”, “how thick is your soap trace?” You can adjust these questions for lotion, lip balm, butters and all other skin care products to determine whether or not your soap/skin care supplier really knows their product or is merely capitalizing on the handmade bandwagon.
If they stutter, stammer, seem confused they probably aren’t really making soap, just using a “cake” mix!!!
I admit to being a self-proclaimed soap snob. My best day is when I convert someone to my way of thinking, all in the name of taking better care of your body, the earth and one another.
What we don't see 