“I have the elbows of an elephant!” I called out from the bathroom, not for the first time.
The usual fixes—exfoliating, moisturizing, painting the worst patches with prescription steroids, slugging with Aquaphor—weren’t working. My skin remained stubbornly, painfully chapped.
Luckily for me, by the time my birthday rolled around, I’d complained loudly and often enough to make an impression on my partner. As he browsed for little indulgences at a local shoppy-shop, his attention lit on a pretty yellow tin, its contents promising to “hydrate, apaise & répare.” The store clerk assured him that this was the thing to buy for an elephantine sweetheart.
The thing, bien sûr, was Féret Parfumeur Le Baume, and the store clerk was not wrong.
In the months since I received this skin-saving balm, it has become my go-to for weathering rough patches. It has soothed and smoothed my appalling elbows (now, nearly as soft as les fesses d’un bébé) and a host of other skin complaints where all other remedies had failed.
Here’s why I think this stuff is le baume dot caume.
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This prettily packaged balm has a rich, buttery texture that soothes and smoothes severe dryness with shea butter and honey. Its rose and citrus fragrance is subtle, though it may cause irritation for extra-sensitive skin.
Aside from Le Baume’s extravagant usefulness, it’s an aesthetic and sensory delight. The tin alone makes it a charming gift—more “pretty little thing” than “ointment for freakish dermatological conditions.” Adorned with Art Nouveau lettering and a Belle Époque beauty gazing into a hand mirror, it adds an assertively French je ne sais quoi to any bathroom-vanity tableau. (Indeed, the chic, old-school packaging isn’t a put-on; Féret Parfumeur has been producing made-in-France skin-care items and perfumes since 1878.) The rose scent is a treat, too: delicate and sweet, with subtle notes of citrus.
The formula’s star ingredient is shea butter, a creamy fat extracted from the nut of the African shea tree with well-established moisturizing, anti-inflammatory, and skin-nourishing properties. A number of other (generally well-tolerated) plant-based oils, including sesame and sunflower seed oils—plus honey, a natural humectant, to draw moisture into the skin—round out the list of hydrators.
Le Baume has a rich, buttery texture; it feels slightly tacky at first but warms up on skin contact, becoming spreadable and soft. As soon as I got my hands on the stuff, I scooped out a generous fingerful to daub over my parched elbows. It offered almost instant relief from the itching, stinging, and tightness. But the truly transformative results—think reptile woman sheds skin, now passes for human—became most apparent after a few weeks.
Unsurprisingly, this heavy-duty salve is marvelous for tough elbows, knees, and heels. But I’ve also used it to quench scraggly cuticles, dry knuckles, and the chapped skin beneath my allergy-ravaged nose. A recalcitrant patch of eczema on my upper lip, which had resisted prescription treatments and every best-in-class lip balm out there (yes, I was a lip balm tester for Wirecutter), disappeared after just a week of Le Baume pour les lévres.
A few words of caution for those with extra-sensitive skin: Le Baume contains botanical extracts, from dandelion and rosemary leaf, that have the potential to cause irritation for some people; it also includes fragrance, so it can’t (officially) be recommended for scaly, eczema-inclined creatures like myself. (Products must be fragrance-free to earn the National Eczema Association Seal of Acceptance.) And a few of the ingredients, such as citronellol, citral, and geraniol, are actually on the Ecz-clusion List of known allergens and irritants. So even though Le Baume worked for me, consider proceeding with caution if your skin is prone to flare-ups.
In my case, though, a little game of sensitive-skin roulette was totally worth it, especially since I’d tried just about every dermatologist-approved remedy out there—including some legitimately great over-the-counter options, such as Aquaphor Healing Ointment and Dr. Dan’s Cortibalm (both of which we recommend), as well as various prescription regimens of steroid and immunosuppressive ointments—without success. All of those treatments have worked for me in other contexts, but only Le Baume came through for my weird elbows and upper lip.
I do have a couple of notes. First, the tin is a little hard to open. Would a screw-on cap really have ruined the look? Second, it’s pretty small—$20 buys you just 1.7 fluid ounces. Luckily, a little dab of Le Baume goes a long way. In two months, I, a super-user (who slathers rather than dabs), have gotten through about a third of the tin’s contents, so I can reasonably expect one tin to last me half a year.
Unless, of course, I get a case of alligator knees this winter. Then all bets are off.
This article was edited by Hannah Morrill and Hannah Rimm.
