Some people choose products based on scent, some on how it looks propped up on their bathroom shelf, and some people just like to follow trends. I care about how things feel. Not in a luxury, spa-day, soft-light kind of way, but in a ‘this can make or break my entire day’ kind of way. Texture, residue, drag, those things don’t just register in my brain as minor annoyances. They sit on my skin and in my nervous system like static. And that didn’t start with soap. 

When I was a kid, I didn’t have words for it, but my body knew. I hated wearing clothing, restrictive or not, and oftentimes when I got to the safety of my grandma’s house, they all got stripped off. If I could be naked around ages 3-6, I was. Not because I was being difficult or weird, but the clothes just felt wrong. Tags poked, jeans squeezed, and shirts didn’t fit my short frame the right way. If I could feel the seams, the waist band elastic, or my sleeves weren’t perfectly lined up in my jacket, I’d meltdown.  

Outside clothing, there were textures that would set me off instantly. Microfiber, styrofoam, that squeaky, draggy feeling when certain materials rub together. I didn’t just dislike them, my whole body would shudder. I felt overwhelmed, irritable, and sometimes a full tantrum ensued over something that probably looked small to other people. Food was the same. I didn’t pick what I ate based on taste as much as texture. Macaroni & cheese, nuggets, grilled cheeses = safe. If something had the wrong mouthfeel, like figs or grainy apples, it didn’t matter how good it supposedly was. My brain said no and it was in the trash. At the time, I was “sensitive” or “picky”. Now as an adult with access to the internet, I understand it differently. 

I suspect autism. Unfortunately, spending most of my life  in rural Alaska, visiting the dentist was a journey and getting a formal diagnosis was nearly impossible. Learning this about myself has changed how I understand my whole life and completely revolutionized how I am able to show up for myself in basic care. I stopped feeling broken, outcasted, ‘dramatic’. It explained why sensations feel so loud. Why certain things are physically uncomfortable in a way that’s hard to explain to people who don’t get it. Why ‘just ignore it’ or ‘ it’s not that big of a deal’ was never helpful advice. I, like many others ARE more sensitive, and when something feels off - sticky, filmy, tacky - I don’t just notice it, I carry it. 

Showering is already a sometimes overwhelmingly sensory event for me, as well as other neurodivergents or folks prone to depressive episodes / chapters.  The temperature change, the sound, getting wet, smells in a small, echo-y space. That’s a lot of input all at once, and man is it a struggle some days. So when I’d  use products that left me feeling dry or stripped, it drove me absolutely mad. That lingering film feeling? I’d think about it long after I slathered myself in lotion. It made something that’s supposed to be a basic care task feel harder than it needed to be. I already don’t love it, and adding a bad sensory experience on top of it felt like punishment. 

That’s a big part of why my soap formulas look the way they do. I didn’t choose ingredients because they were trendy or because a long list sounds impressive. I chose them because of how they behave on skin. I care about slip, that smooth glide when you’re washing. I care about how easily it rinses off. I care about when you step out of the shower, your skin feel clean, not squeaky or coated or weird. I build for the during and the after, because both matter. 

I’m not trying to create the most complicated bar. I’m trying to create one that feels right and is predictable every time. Fewer ingredients, more intention. Each one there because it does a specific job in the experience, not just because it sounds fancy on a label. 

For me, this isn’t about luxury. It’s about regulation. When everyday things feel better, my nervous system has one less thing to fight. A shower that feels smooth instead of irritating. A product that rinses clean instead of clinging. Those small sensory wins make the day more manageable. And I know I’m not the only one who experiences the world this way, even if not everyone has the same language for it yet. 

People love to talk about skincare results, magic ingredients, and trends that’ll be gone in a week. I think just as much about experience, comfort, and making the day to day life of people like me a little easier. I care about how something fits into your real bare minimum routine, not the 13 step skincare regime you hope to have one day or keep forgetting to do. Caring about how things feel is how I take care of myself. It’s how I design what I make, especially for the people who’ve spent years thinking they were just picky when really their bodies were just asking for something that felt right.