About

By day, I run a team like a boss lady who actually drinks water and answers emails. 

By night (and basically every weekend), I’m up to my elbows in coconut oil and chaos, handcrafting body butters and sugar scrubs so decadent they should come with a safe word.

It all started about ten years ago when drugstore scrubs bored me into an actual coma. Friends started stealing from my shower. Family staged bathroom heists. Finally my ridiculously hot, ridiculously patient husband surveyed the 47 jars colonizing our house and said, “Maude (that’s his nickname for me), you’re already running an illegal skincare cartel. Might as well get paid for it.”

So here we are.

Every single jar is still made in tiny, obsessive batches using the fancy stuff: cold-pressed oils, skin-safe fragrances that make people lean in a little too close, and enough shea butter to send your dermatologist and your cardiologist a joint Christmas card. Zero fillers, zero nonsense, maximum “oh my god, touch me” results.

My husband occasionally sneaks in to supply some extra spice in my listings (and to stop me from naming everything “Slather Me, Daddy”). You can thank him for the one remaining ounce of decorum around here.

Thanks to my 21-year-old daughter (who’s out there crushing her own side hustle and roasting me daily), I finally decided to stop hoarding the good stuff and share it with the world.

So welcome to my delicious little empire of indulgence. Grab a jar, get stupidly soft, and blame me when your partner stages an intervention because they literally can’t stop touching you.

Let’s get you glowing (and mildly dangerous to be around),

Shannon 

Professional troublemaker, part-time domestic goddess, full-time enabler of questionable outcomes 💋