(This post was last modified: 05-05-2017, 07:16 AM by Bouki.)
Cedar & Lemongrass (La Savonnerie Bourbonnaise) cedar, lemongrass
This soap is made in France from olive oil and donkey milk. That's an odd combination of ingredients, and truth be told, I usually shy away from olive oil soaps. They have a reputation for making dry, flyaway lather; but I hoped the donkey milk in this recipe would correct the oil’s shortcomings. And besides, I thought I'd give the soap a try because it reminded me of one of my favorite books, Robert Louis Stevenson's "Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes." Stevenson tells how he made a 100 mile trek through the olive orchards dotting the south of France in the company of Modestine, a donkey he could never quite master. I didn't have to master an animal, only some suds; but to be honest, at first I was just as frustrated with this soap as Stevenson was with his burdensome beast. The lather faded in less than a minute, and left my face tight as a bow string, and prickly with blade burn. What’s more, it tasted horrible, like something you'd pour down a drain to clear a hair ball. I would have chucked it if it weren't for one truly redeeming quality: the lather was ever so slick, allowing me to get a remarkably close shave. After a few taut hours, the Shea butter kicked in, and I had comfortable finish. I hesitate to recommend a whole tub of this soap, but a sample may be worth a try, provided you’re a master of the quick shave, and you have a very light touch. Oh, and hold off brushing your teeth until after you've rinsed away the last of the lather.
This soap is made in France from olive oil and donkey milk. That's an odd combination of ingredients, and truth be told, I usually shy away from olive oil soaps. They have a reputation for making dry, flyaway lather; but I hoped the donkey milk in this recipe would correct the oil’s shortcomings. And besides, I thought I'd give the soap a try because it reminded me of one of my favorite books, Robert Louis Stevenson's "Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes." Stevenson tells how he made a 100 mile trek through the olive orchards dotting the south of France in the company of Modestine, a donkey he could never quite master. I didn't have to master an animal, only some suds; but to be honest, at first I was just as frustrated with this soap as Stevenson was with his burdensome beast. The lather faded in less than a minute, and left my face tight as a bow string, and prickly with blade burn. What’s more, it tasted horrible, like something you'd pour down a drain to clear a hair ball. I would have chucked it if it weren't for one truly redeeming quality: the lather was ever so slick, allowing me to get a remarkably close shave. After a few taut hours, the Shea butter kicked in, and I had comfortable finish. I hesitate to recommend a whole tub of this soap, but a sample may be worth a try, provided you’re a master of the quick shave, and you have a very light touch. Oh, and hold off brushing your teeth until after you've rinsed away the last of the lather.
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