It all started with a voice note. “Have you… been getting targeted with lots of stuff about tallow?” My friend giggled through my headphones. “I’m currently eating little Argentinian cookies that are made with beef tallow and they’re so delicious. But also I keep seeing skincare stuff about tallow. I’m interested to know if you’ve tried any?”

Honestly I was speechless. Beef tallow? I looked at the reel she sent me and watched a glowing young woman by the name of Milo Meldrum pour what looked like fluffy cake batter into little glass jars. 

“I want to order some of her tallow. It grosses me out so much. But I’m very curious.”

I found the nearest park bench, sat down and conducted some research. The fluffy cake batter was actually rendered down beef suet (the hard fatty part of the cow that surrounds the kidneys), whipped into a creamy texture. I was mesmerised watching it whip. 

After a few minutes I was down the rabbit hole of tallow content; butchers-turned-influencers sharing recipes, Paleo Bros talking about the evils of seed oils, and ‘crunchy mamas’ making batches of tallow in their kitchens to use in skincare, crepes and cookies

 “Is this trad wife-coded?” I finally replied. “Is this the new homemade soap side hustle?”

“Totally - it’s the new Etsy soap.”

Months after this conversation, tallow came up again. This time, in a soothing video from the internet’s favourite tradwife, Nara Smith. “This morning my husband ran out of his moisturiser that he usually uses and he didn’t love it enough to repurchase so he just decided to make his own.” 

I watched Lucky Blue Smith melt down some beef tallow over a stovetop, then mix it with beeswax, jojoba oil, squalene, a few drops of vitamin E oil, glycerine and hyaluronic acid. He carefully decants the cream into a small jar. Cut to the couple in the bathroom, massaging it into their already glowing skin. He caresses his wife’s cheek.

Damn. If these two models can convince me to rub beef fat on my face, why aren’t more beauty brands paying them to promote products that are less er… beefy? 

I’m not the only one wondering. In one of Nara Smith’s videos, Cetaphil (as in, the brand) commented, “Thank you so much for talking about your eczema! 💙” The comment received 20K likes and confused replies from her fans, “Why aren't you sponsoring her then?” 

As Business of Fashion reported recently, most beauty companies are playing it safe when it comes to tradwife influencers (ironically, not Hourglass - a brand that declared its goal to be fully vegan by 2020 just announced Nara Smith as a paid partner). Choosing to engage with their large audiences (Smith has 9 million followers on TikTok alone) requires “nimbly sidestepping some uncomfortable themes.” 

Makes sense. Beauty brands have been selling us female empowerment for years, they’re thinking carefully before associating with glamorous stay-at-home mums who love to cater to their husband’s every whim. The tradwives could be seen as regressive. But in the context of a beauty culture that encourages 12-step skincare routines, watching someone make their own moisturiser out of an animal by-product, slather it over their face and call it night is actually kind of… punk? 

The DIY spirit is, at least. 

Do vegans have beef with tallow? 

People making their own beauty products is nothing new, but the shift from vegan beauty - once a point of difference, now an expectation for any modern beauty brand - to a growing niche of definitely not vegan beauty is interesting. 

To help shed some light, I spoke with Milo Meldrum, the 25-year-old mama-of-two from Kapiti who makes the tallow videos I’m obsessed with. 

Meldrum first started making her own tallow whip about three years ago, to help with stretch marks from her first pregnancy, and then as a nappy rash cream for her son. When she couldn't find anyone selling it in New Zealand, she saw the gap in the market and decided to start her own business, Aia Ancestral Skincare. 

“When I was vegan I was using herbal oils for my skin but because I experience eczema and dry skin, I never found them to be moisturising enough. Once you have felt the moisturising benefits of animal based skincare it's hard to go back,” she says.

“I hear from lots of ex-vegans who share my experience. I think both the vegan and animal-based teams are wanting the best for themselves, their environment, and looking at the most sustainable way to do that. I personally think tallow is sustainable because it is considered a waste product to the butcheries and ends up being chucked out in many cases.” 

Asti Sommerfield, founder of My Herbal Apothecary in Queensland agrees. “A few of my vegan friends actually use my tallow because they know where my ingredients are sourced, from local farmers. It’s been really interesting watching the shift towards more traditional diets and animal-based skincare. I think the pandemic had a lot of people questioning their lifestyle choices, learning more about where their food and groceries actually come from, and getting back to their roots.”

Meldrum says the first time she made tallow “just felt right. It was like my hands and my cells remembered. People from all around the world took a fat - from animals, not almonds - and they would macerate it with local herbs to make medicines. This practice is as ancient as we are and I am so excited to be a part of it becoming more mainstream.”

While it’s unlikely we’ll see beef tallow on the shelves of Mecca and Sephora any time soon, the interest is on the rise. I asked Dr. Oliver Hofmann, the technical director of Shieling Laboratories (one of the biggest manufacturers of cosmetics In New Zealand), who said he had heard of tallow skincare growing in popularity in China, “but we haven’t been asked yet to formulate it.” 

At this stage, if you don’t have the time (or stomach) to make your own, there are small-scale companies you can buy from in Aotearoa and Australia - I counted about 20. 

With more DIY makers spreading the word on social media, Meldrum says she struggles to keep up with demand as a one woman show with two toddlers. "I'm thankfully now hiring someone to help me with the making and shipping so I can focus on the formulations, social media and business admin,” she says. “I am currently getting my tallow tested in a lab so I am curious to see the exact nutrient profile of it and share that with my customers.”

What are the benefits of tallow?

Look at any tallow skincare website and you’ll find a long list of ailments it can help with, from dry skin to nappy rash, acne and inflammation, psoriasis, eczema, even Topical Steroid Withdrawal. You’ll find testimonials from passionate tallow-heads who use it for just about everything. 

“My whole family uses it daily,” says Sommerfield. “We have tallow everywhere, the bathroom, in the shower, the car, the bedrooms, even the shoe cupboard for putting on feet before socks to keep them soft. We’ve even used the Pure version on pets when they’ve had irritated skin or sores.”

We’ve all heard of multi-purpose barrier creams before though. Is there really a reason to use beef fat over La Roche-Posay Cicaplast Baume, or plain cocoa butter? I asked Dr. Hofmann - “the most cynical person in the industry” to weigh in. 

“Tallow is a fat/oil. As such, it possesses hydrophobic properties that can form a barrier on the skin, slowing down water loss from deeper layers. From a functional point that’s about it, but I am certain there will be something in tallow that is not shared with other oils.

“However, personally I think the real benefit of tallow lies in the sustainability aspect. The main feedstock of cosmetic oils is palm or coconut. There is no need to elaborate on the problematics of these oils, it is all over the media.

“Tallow on the other hand, is an unwanted byproduct of our beef industry. Its current only use is to turn it into biodiesel, a very low value product. If we could make cosmetics from it, and not use or at least reduce, coconut and palm oil, we’d do something truly sustainable. But, fat chance of that happening. There is also the odour aspect of tallow. It stinks!”

What’s it like to use, really? 

There was nothing left to do but try beef tallow for myself. To borrow the words from my friend, “It grosses me out so much. But I’m very curious.”

I tried two versions from My Herbal Apothecary; the unscented Naked Tallow Whip Balm, made from 100% grass-fed Australian beef tallow and organic virgin jojoba oil, and the Native version, which has lemon myrtle and nerolina essential oils added. 

As someone with oily/combination skin (“well-lubed” was how one derm described it) I was nervous. I usually shudder at the term ‘rich moisturiser,’ but since moving to Melbourne in winter, my hyaluronic acid serum just wasn’t cutting it. I thought about what Milo said: “Once you apply tallow for the first time you realise our skin remembers too.” 

Feeling brave, I tried the unscented one first. The texture was just as I’d hoped - like buttercream. A pea sized amount was more than enough, it melted into my skin and left no waxy residue, but I did look creepily shiny. I went to bed and asked my boyfriend to smell my face. “Mmm, beefy.” When I woke up, my skin looked dewy and felt supple. Surprisingly not greasy.

I tried to follow Milo’s simple routine for a week: “Warm water, pat dry, mist with a floral hydrosol, tallow.” Asti, my other guru, also recommended using it like a balm cleanser, which I enjoyed. A small dab massaged into dry skin at night, then removed with a warm damp flannel takes all the makeup off, leaving my skin feeling moisturised afterwards. 

I much preferred the Native Tallow Whip, which smells a bit like tea tree “with a slight beefy undertone” (my boyfriend’s words). Miraculously it didn’t clog my pores like I thought it would, instead it made my skin feel noticeably healthier and softer. 

Is all tallow made equal?

I posed this question to my two gurus after I noticed jars labelled “beef tallow” on the counter at my local butchers. 

“Source is the biggest indicator of quality,” Sommerfield says. “You want to purchase from artisans who source their ingredients locally, and importantly from grass-fed and finished beef. The science tells us that fat from grass fed and finished beef contains much higher vitamin, mineral and CLA (conjugated linoleic acid) levels than tallow from grain-fed cows.”

Some tallow will also be less purified and therefore have more of a beefy smell than others, says Meldrum. “It’s actually a big debate in the tallow world. Some people don’t agree with how I render my tallow, they claim it's not “ancestral”. They prefer to render once and not use any salt or water. I can hand on my heart say that rendering with salt and water significantly reduces the greasy smell from the tallow, which is the biggest block for my customers. If people are okay with the less rendered, more beefy-smelling tallow then there are companies out there they can shop from.” Like your local butchers, I guess.

Final thoughts 

After trying tallow for a week, I decided I’m sticking with it. At least I’m committing to the entire jar, which should last up to six months. I can’t say if your skin will love it too, but I have a theory. Right now, beauty culture wants us to do the most to our skin. Is it normal to be in a constant state of renewal, attacking our dermis with extra-strength peel pads, exfoliating acids and retinoids until our faces are red, raw and screaming out for a band aid? No. But the same companies are happy to sell that to us too, marketing new barrier creams to ‘fix’ the damage. 

Considering this, a beef tallow-and-water routine doesn’t sound so crazy. It’s easy, affordable, and - if we can get past the smell - maybe the future of a more sustainable beauty industry.