Rodeo is based in Melbourne, and its products are handmade in Australia. In the context of slow beauty, that matters less as a patriotic marker and more as a structural one. Proximity keeps decision-making human. Sourcing, formulation, and production remain close enough that compromise is harder to disguise.

That closeness extends to materials. High-quality, organic, grass-fed Australian tallow is difficult to access at scale. Rodeo sources through personal networks rather than anonymous supply chains. Fragrance development follows a similar path, relationship-led rather than industrial. The supply chain stays short because it has to.

Visually, the brand reflects that economy. Ingredients are listed clearly and prominently. There is no attempt to obscure or soften what the product is. The identity feels minimal, but not sterile. Rugged without leaning into caricature.

Online, the site avoids the hyper-polished sheen common to skincare brands. It feels tactile, textured, almost physical. The digital experience mirrors the product philosophy. Nothing excessive. Nothing decorative without purpose.

Rodeo’s unisex positioning follows the same logic. The brand avoids gendered cues not as a statement, but as a default. “Good skincare shouldn’t have a gender,” they say. “It should just be good.”

The people drawn to Rodeo are not a single type. Some are already sceptical of mainstream skincare. Others are simply beginning to question what is inside the products they use every day. Rodeo does not attempt to convert either group. It offers an alternative and allows use, not language, to do the convincing.

In a market crowded with acceleration and novelty, Rodeo feels part of a quieter Australian movement. One that values fewer inputs, slower systems, and products that earn trust through repetition rather than promise.