Fred Creason

If this was yours, what would you change? 1984 CHEVROLET 1500

What’s your best drink for this meal?

The best moisturiser in the world is beef tallow, and it is currently sitting in a butcher's chiller in Lancashire, wrapped in greaseproof paper. Every British farmhouse between approximately 1700 and 1950 had a small jar of it on the washstand. It was rendered from the suet around the kidneys of the Sunday joint. Strained through muslin. Set into a pale yellow wax that smelled faintly of the field the cow had grazed on. The jar lasted six months. It cost nothing. It went on the chapped hands of a woman who had spent the morning hanging washing in a January wind. On the cracked heels of a farmer who had been out in his boots since dawn. On the baby's bottom when the nappy rash flared. On the elbows of a child who had been in the bath. On a husband's face after he had shaved with a cut-throat razor and lukewarm water. One jar moisturised the entire household. Beef tallow is roughly 50% monounsaturated fat, 40% saturated fat, with a fatty acid profile almost identical to the sebum your own skin produces. It carries vitamins A, D, E, and K, conjugated linoleic acid, and palmitoleic acid, which the human skin cell uses directly. It absorbs without sitting on the surface. It does not oxidise. It does not require a preservative because it is, structurally, already stable. This was discovered, by every farming household in Britain, by accident, over the course of approximately three hundred years. It was replaced, in the British bathroom cabinet, sometime between 1955 and 1985, by an industrial moisturiser containing water, glycerin, mineral oil, dimethicone, phenoxyethanol, sodium hydroxide, fragrance, and seven other ingredients written in a font small enough to require a magnifying glass. The skincare industry, currently valued at £130 billion globally, has spent the last fifteen years quietly rediscovering tallow as a "clean beauty" innovation, packaging it in small amber jars with hand-drawn labels and selling it back to the granddaughters of the women who used to keep it on the washstand. The cow is still in the field. The butcher will give you the suet and look pleased that anyone asked. Render it down on a Sunday afternoon. Strain it into a jam jar. Keep it on the washstand. Your skin will work out the rest.

Imagine starting with a block of stone and ending with this

Do you have what it takes to write your own book?

What’s your favorite type of music?

Personally, I remember him as the only president of my entire adult life who had a fully functional brain.