Author’s Note: This article is completely satirical, written for our April Fool’s edition of The Spectrum. Please do not follow the advice written in this article.

Fargo is home to a unique skincare miracle, and it’s flowing right under our noses. That’s right—this April, ditch your overpriced clay masks and harness the raw, mineral-charged power of Red River mud.  The Red River flows north, occasionally floods your basement, and contains a blend of glacial silt, mineral-rich clay, and just a whisper of agricultural runoff—it’s giving “Iowa but make it skincare.” Slather it on your face, and you’re not just applying mud—you’re absorbing a microdose of the Midwestern work ethic. The facial experience begins with a tingling sensation, which dermatologists might call “chemical irritation,” but I prefer to call it “nature’s kiss.” Within minutes, your pores will open up like spring potholes, and your skin will start to glow with the same reddish tint as the river itself. It’s not rosacea—it’s regional pride. Many commercial spas now use exotic ingredients like Himalayan salt and crushed amethyst. But why import luxury when you can just walk to the riverbank, scoop up a handful, and tell your roommates you’re engaging in a deeply local wellness ritual? Sustainability and slay. I re-used a Caribou water cup to capture a piece of dermatological excellence, and didn’t even fall in. Some skeptics worry about “pollution” or “E. coli,” but let’s be honest, what’s a little bacteria compared to the radiance of glacial minerals? Who needs probiotics when you have bacteria right from the source? It dries into a dusty crust, tightens the pores, and possibly exposes you to traces of heavy metals. But listen: your face will look alive—not necessarily good—like it has seen things. Prehistoric things. 

The minerals are detoxifying and grounding. I could feel the 5G rays bouncing off of my entire body as I sat with the glorious mud on my face. 

Still, I can’t help but feel a kind of reverence. This is ancient mud—a lakebed lineage, a glacial ghost goop—and it reminds me that beauty is literally everywhere, even in the silty runoff of a Midwestern floodplain. To be clear—I recommend getting your mud from the North Dakota side of the river. It’s just better. My skin looks incredible. 

So yes, Red River mud may be unregulated, untested, and probably inadvisable. But for those of us looking for connection, ritual and a little regional exfoliation, it might just be perfect.