How Lockdown Led Me Back to Handmade Soap, Sensitive Skin and a Memory of Ghana
There are moments in life that feel ordinary at the time, then years later they rise up with their full meaning.
For me, one of those moments happened in Tema, Ghana, when I was a child visiting my grandmother with my mom.
My mother took me there because she wanted me to know where I came from. Not in a vague, pretty postcard kind of way. She wanted me to feel it. To see it. To understand that my story did not begin in the UK, even though that is where I was born.
I remember being in my grandmother’s kitchen and seeing her making soap.
At the time, I did not understand the significance of it. I did not know that one day, years later, when the world felt uncertain and everyday essentials disappeared from shelves, that memory would come back to me like a quiet ancestral instruction.
But it did.
When Soap Became Impossible to Find
During lockdown, soap suddenly became one of the most important things in every home.
We were all washing our hands constantly. Washing before touching anything. Washing after touching everything. Washing like our lives depended on it, because in many ways, that was how it felt.
Then the shelves started emptying.
Trying to get hold of soap became stressful. The products I could find were not always what I wanted to use on my skin or my family’s skin. Everything felt harsh, stripped back, rushed and necessary, but not nourishing.
The constant handwashing began to dry out our skin.
When you already live with sensitive skin, that kind of dryness is not just a small inconvenience. It becomes uncomfortable. It becomes irritating. It changes how your skin feels in your own body.
That was the point where something in me shifted.
I was not just looking for soap anymore.
I was looking for care.
The Memory That Would Not Leave Me Alone
As I searched for something better, that old memory of my grandmother in Tema kept returning. Her in the kitchen, making soap by hand. The quiet knowledge of women who knew how to create what their families needed. It felt powerful because it was not glamorous. It was practical.
That memory reminded me that soap was not always something we simply grabbed from a shop shelf without thinking. For many of our grandmothers and great-grandmothers, soap was part of domestic knowledge, survival, care, cleanliness and craft.
It was not just a product, but something made with intention. During lockdown, when the world felt unstable, I found myself reaching back to that kind of knowledge.
From Melt and Pour to Cold Process
I started learning in 2021. At first, I explored melt-and-pour soap making. It gave me a way in. It helped me understand colour, scent, texture, moulds and presentation. It gave me the confidence to begin creating something with my hands, but I knew I wanted to go deeper. I began studying cold-process soapmaking, and that changed everything.
Cold process taught me the chemistry, discipline and patience. The way oils, lye and water transform into something completely new through saponification. It made me respect soap-making as both art and science. This was not just a hobby I picked up because I was bored; it became a devotion.
Since 2021, I have studied, tested, refined, questioned and experimented. I wanted to understand what makes a bar feel good on the skin. What makes it too drying. What gives it longevity. What gives it creaminess. What makes someone wash their hands or body and think, this feels different.
That was the point. I did not want to make soap that simply looked pretty. I wanted to make soap that felt like care.
Finding My Way to Advanced Hot Process Soap
Over time, I found myself drawn to hot-process soapmaking. Not the rushed, basic version people sometimes imagine. I settled into an advanced high-temperature hot-process technique that allowed me to create a bar with a feel I had not experienced elsewhere.
For me, this method brings together everything I love about soap making. There is the old-world feel of it. The heat. The transformation. The visible cooking of the soap. The sense that something alive and useful is being created right there in the pot.
There is also the technical side. The understanding of oils, fatty acids, superfat, texture, water, temperature and cure. The result is soap that feels rich, grounded and deeply satisfying to use.
Handmade Soap for Sensitive Skin Should Not Feel Boring
One of the biggest lessons I learned from my own skin and my family’s skin is that sensitive skin care does not have to feel clinical, plain or joyless. Yes, the ingredients, method, and the skin feel matter, but the experience matters too. People with sensitive or easily irritated skin still deserve products that feel beautiful.
That is why my work became rooted in handmade soap for sensitive skin, but with a soulful, elevated feeling. I wanted to create bars that felt nourishing, soap that you could use every day and still feel like you were doing something kind for yourself.
This Is More Than Soap
When I look back, I can see the thread clearly now. My mom took me to Ghana because she wanted me to know where I came from. My grandmother made soap in her kitchen. Years later, lockdown made me realise how fragile access to simple essentials could be. My family’s skin needed something better, and I found myself returning to the old knowledge through my own hands.
That is why soap making means so much to me. It is not just about selling bars of soap. It is about memory, lineage, sensitive skin, family care, and refusing to accept products that leave you feeling stripped and uncomfortable.
It is all about taking something ordinary and making it sacred again because sometimes the thing you are meant to create has been waiting inside you for years. You just need life to press the right memory.
If your skin has been asking for something gentler, richer and more intentional, I invite you to explore my handmade soap collection. Each bar is created with care, rooted in slow-making, sensitive skin, and the belief that your daily wash should feel like a small ritual, not a punishment.
