My name is Christopher Norton and I am Sandia Soap Company.
People are always asking me how I got into soap making.
Well if you told the kid I was forty some years ago back in rural upstate New York I would be earning my keep as a Soap maker in the Southwest a puzzled look might have come to my face.
In the spring of 1995, that youth in a taller body left the lush green farm lands of upstate New York and ventured to the enchanted dry desert of the Southwest. It was during the winter of 1999 when I opened the pages of a soap making book in a local store that the Sandia Soap story began.
The first batch I made was of pure Olive Oil (two bars of which are still in my desk drawer). I was hooked. Over the next nine months, I made dozens of batches with different oils in different ratios. Then one day, I lathered up with the bar that was to be my signature soap, the one I would place my name on with pride. The Sandia Soap bar that I created that Fall is the same one I cure today. I gave it a long life (about five weeks if one person is using the bar), beautiful suds, a silky texture
and flavor to the last bubble.
The high quality of the soap is one of the reasons
Sandia Soap is the largest natural soap company in
New Mexico, pouring over 11 tons a year.
I believe in the KISS principle……keep it simple soaper. I do it all myself except for a labeler and shipper. I have no desire to hire more employees and become a manager. I am a soapmaker. The root of KISS is to create a flow with your career, both physically and mentally.
Had a guy once tell me I should gear up to pour ten times as much, have a bunch of employees, and be a soap king. The only question I had for him was "Would I sleep at night?'. Nope, he didn't understand my question. He probably hadn't had a good night of sound sleep in years.
Soap making is a beautiful art. I consider myself an artist since my soaps are colorful creations that come into this world in handmade batches. My warehouse is a aromatic sanctuary that makes my hours there a treat rather than a chore. I, and only I, bring each bar into this world, watching each batch come to trace and pouring it into the mold where its rests for 48 hours before I cut it down into the nicely sized 6 ounce bar.
Some forty years ago, if you would have told the kid I was standing in a mud puddle covered with dirt and a Tonka truck in hand about his future soap venture, I’m sure he would have grinned and given it a thumbs up.