Why Persian sefidab is my unexpected beauty obsession as a new mum over 40

My weekly ritual

If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be smuggling powdered animal fat across continents, I’d have laughed. Yet here I am, a new mum over 40, utterly obsessed with sefidab (or Rooshoor, if you want to sound fancy), the Persian exfoliator that has become my weekly ritual for keeping my skin, eyes, and hands from looking like I wrestled a toddler for 12 hours straight.

I’ve never been shy about trying anything that promises a few extra minutes of youth, or at least a smoother forehead, so when I discovered sefidab during a visit to my in-laws in Persia, I was intrigued. The idea of an ancient beauty secret, cheaper than a microdermabrasion session, was too good to resist.

A beauty hack with a bit of bite

Here’s the thing about sefidab: it’s not gentle. It’s a white, chalky paste made from animal fat and natural minerals, applied with a kiseh, a traditional exfoliating mitt. Vegans, vegetarians, or anyone allergic to animal products, avert your eyes.

The paste is made by mixing the powdered minerals with water until smooth, melting the animal fat, and combining the two before letting it set in small casts. There’s a kind of satisfaction in using a product that predates Instagram beauty gurus and detox teas by several millennia.

The body treatment

I start in the shower, wetting the sefidab and rubbing it onto my kiseh. Then, in circular motions, I work it into my skin. Dead skin, toxins, the lingering stress of a week juggling a full-time job and a child, they’re all gone. The circular motion is gentler than the back-and-forth scrubbing I used to do, and the result is soft, radiant skin that doesn’t scream “new mum over 40.”

It’s not just a skin-saver: it works wonders on clogged pores, cellulite, stretch marks, and even those annoying fine lines around my eyes. And I’ve yet to find a salon treatment that leaves me feeling this indulgent without the accompanying bill.

The facial finesse

The face, of course, is another matter. Sefidab is harsh, so I coat my face in Vaseline first, think of it as a safety net against minor abrasions. Then I scrub in careful circles across my forehead, cheeks, and chin before rinsing. It’s invigorating in a slightly shocking way, but somehow leaves me feeling more awake than my morning coffee.

A lesson in humility

Not every experiment goes smoothly. During a stay in Rasht with H’s khalleh, I thought I’d stumbled on a genius hack: a crushed white powder on the bathroom sink, which looked suspiciously like sefidab. Overjoyed at the prospect of skipping the occasional battle of crumbling the white block, I applied it eagerly. The scent was off, the texture harsher than usual.

Later, H revealed the truth: I had been exfoliating with washing powder. My skin survived, barely, but my pride didn’t. It was a reminder that curiosity is only wise when paired with a bit of caution.

Why it works for me

I’m drawn to sefidab because it doesn’t promise overnight miracles; it promises a moment of self-care. The smell, the gritty texture, the precise circular motions, it’s almost meditative.

And yes, it’s far cheaper than high-end microdermabrasion. I’ve learned to stock up whenever family visits from Iran. Every little parcel is beauty in powdered form, delivered with love, and a reminder that some of the best things in life aren’t available on Amazon.

Tips if you’re tempted

• Start slow: Use Vaseline on your face and focus on circular motions.
• Invest in a proper kiseh: Your hands deserve a break from scrubbing.
• Test patch: Especially if you’re prone to allergies. Animal fat is fabulous for some, disastrous for others.
• Ritualise: Use it once a week.

The takeaway

There’s something great about a beauty ritual that predates Botox, influencers, and Instagram filters. Sefidab isn’t just a scrub; it’s a reminder that taking time for yourself doesn’t have to involve a spa, a credit card, or perfection. As a new mum over 40, I need these moments.

Would I recommend sefidab to everyone? Probably not. But for those willing to step outside the glossy world of mainstream beauty products, it’s effective.

And next time I see a mysterious white powder in a bathroom sink, I’ll definitely ask twice before applying it.