Trader Joe’s - Savon de France – French Milled Soap – Oatmeal Exfoliant Bar – Almond Ginger Scent

“Seven Deadly Sins”\It suddenly occurred to me that the excessively long name for this soap perfectly matches up with the characters on the Gilligan’s Island TV show! It’s no secret that novelists and filmmakers often, as a device, match their characters with those in Gilligan’s Island, which in turn were originally matched with the Seven Deadly Sins. But soap? I guess so! Gilligan – Exfoliant. The Skipper – Oatmeal. Mr. Howell – Trader Joe. Lovey – Savon de France. Ginger – Ginger Scent. The Professor – French Milled. Mary Ann – Almond Bar. Believe it or else! The soap? It’s from TJ’s, thus dirt cheap. It emulates, a bit, that Pre de Provence French soap I can’t find anymore. It’s got that oatmeal exfoliatin’ action goin’ on, and it feels good on your skin because of the glycerin. And it smells (almond and ginger), delicious. Still not recommended that you eat it, though you’ll want to.

Soap Review No. 247

Tommy Bahama – Sea & Surf Bar Soap

“Tilapia of Soap”

This huge (10 oz.) bar of very white bar soap is more maximumly: “Tommy Bahama premium grooming Bar Soap for Men sea & surf Hair + Face + Body” and recommends you “simplify your routine with this multi-purpose bar soap”—meaning, I guess, you don’t need shampoo and body wash and all that nonsense—presuming, I suppose, you live on a boat and have a stall-size shower, and you’re just hurrying to get out on the water for sportfishing or whatever. But what are the ladies going to think, guys, when they see that all you have in the head besides that special boat-use TP is this one bar of soap? No shampoo? Weird. I suppose that would impress some people—me, for instance. But I just can’t take a brand called “Tommy Bahama” seriously—first of all, because it’s a dumb name, that someone (or group of geniuses) picked on purpose. They sell activewear and tall chairs and have restaurants—and I’m sure I’d enjoy eating their crusted drizzled bullshit. They even have their own rum! I admire that conviction. I’d love to hear that it’s a nice company to work for—that the bosses are mellow and everyone is treated fairly and with compassion. I got this soap cheap (TJ Maxx) —no doubt the BOX cost more than what I paid for it—it’s so sturdy, I have to find a use for it! I guess I’ll keep my drugs in it. I was hoping (seeing how it’s a MAN’S soap) for a bold, even obnoxious fragrance, as I’m a connoisseur of car salesman aftershave—yet, it hardly has any fragrance at all. It’s a perfectly nice soap, but subtlety and wimpiness is not what I signed up for here.

Soap Review No. 246

Bell’s Palm Rose Complexion Soap – Hotel Bar Soap

“Ghost Soap”

A tangle of mysteries for a little green rectangle of hotel bar soap. First of all, what’s the name? Bell’s Palm Rose Complexion Soap? Or Bell’s Complexion Soap—used at the Palm Rose Hotel? Or PIX? (It says on front of the wrapper: “If it’s from PIX it’s right.”) And then, it says “Mabry Motel” on the wrapper, in pencil. And it says “Albert Pick Co. Chicago” on the back. Requires some research! So, as far as I can tell, PIX refers to Albert Pick Co. Inc.—a supply company (I saw a 1936 catalog on eBay—soda fountain supplies) which I assume includes hotel bar soap! As far as Mabry Motel, in pencil, I found a 1940 post card (eBay) Mabry Court Motel—US Hwy 40 & 51 in Vandalia, Illinois, so I looked it up. Gone! There’s another Bell’s Palm Rose soap (different) on eBay, but newer packaging. Inside the wrapper it says, Iowa Soap Co, and on the green soap itself is engraved Bell’s Palm Rose, so that confirms it. That’s the name of the soap. PIX is the distributor. The penciled-in Mabry Motel is a motel, visited by the person who saved this soap for me to one day speculate over, and wash my hands with. The fragrance is exactly that of an old bar of hotel soap—very nostalgic. The weird thing is that it said “Mabry Motel” in ghostly white, directly on the green bar of soap! I guess because of the penciled impression, through the wrapper—but if I hadn’t known that, I would have assumed it was from a ghost. Which it kind of is.

Soap Review No. 245

Asantee – Rice Milk & Collagen with Honey Soap

“Funky Dessert”

This should be the most expensive soap I’ve ever purchased just for the box alone. It’s solid, glossy cardboard, six-sided, like an oblong hexagon, printed in full color with these bizarre, tiny, sparkly dots evenly distributed throughout—they pick up the light at certain angles—I’ve never seen this in any other product, but it’s got to be out there (a boat? a guitar? a shirt?) somewhere —Thailand, where this soap is from, or elsewhere. Pictured, there’s a green plant, rice I presume, and some pouring milk, and a little beehive with bees gathering—they really go for it! Not sure about the “collagen”—maybe that’s what the sparkly dots represent—I’m not gonna go there—not without a collagen degree. Also, it’s a “lightening” soap—intended to, they say, deter aging. Some people strive to make their skin lighter, while some tan ’til they sizzle like bacon, while still others tattoo like they’re immortal, or makeup like a clown. At any rate, the oblong hexagonal bar feels good. Most impressive, however, is the fragrance, which is IN-tense. Almost insaaaaaaaaaane, even. What is it? Just a combination of those ingredients? It’s not shy! I can’t put my finger on what it is—though I can’t stop putting my finger on it. Evocative of something from 60 years ago, perhaps? Or maybe even from a past life, or past-past life, or past-past-past life. Or maybe even another planet!

Soap Review No. 244

Olivia Care – Coconut + Magnesium

“White Gold”

A TJ Maxx special (costs about half what it would online) that surprised me by its delightfulness. My skin likes it, too. It’s a 3-pack, and I’m glad I have more—three large, white, rough-hewn bars in a smart, two-tone cardboard box. It also says: Therapeutic Bar Soap Set, +sooths aches and pains, +relaxes sore muscles, +improves skin health. Those are purportedly the benefits of coconut and magnesium. I can’t say for sure I notice all those benefits, but I’m compelled to use it, so maybe. The fragrance is too strong and off-putting when just out of the box, but once you use it a bit it mellows out and is exceedingly lovely. I have no idea what the fragrance is. My best guess is “floral,” but what flower? I don’t know. “Parfum” is the only ingredient that worries me—but in this case, no bad reactions, and only olfactory pleasure. I’m not sure who “Olivia” is— (not de Havilland, Rodrigo, Newton-John, or The Pig, I don’t think). She’s local (LA), and has a website, and is “cruelty free” (little smiling rabbit on the box). I’ve been coming across discussion of magnesium a lot, lately—always hard to tell if it’s legit or trend-of-the-week. Often, both things can be true at once. Supposed to be good for sleep (everyone has insomnia, now). I looked at some supplements in the store—can’t afford it! It’s apparently worth its weight in gold. They’ll be hoarding it in Fort Knox, next thing we know.

Soap Review No. 243

Dr. Squatch – Wood Barrel Bourbon

“Distillery Tour”

Already wrote about the Squatch as mascot and a company, I think, with a previous “flavor,” so no need to go there—I bought some kind of “three pack”—when I first saw it—thought it was an obscure brand—but now I see it everywhere. Everywhere being TJ Maxx—in the “Men’s” section. To me, it’s odd with soap, that you’d separate by gender—I thought Irish Spring had cured us of that back in the Sixties, but no. But some soaps specifically market toward only one gender, and this is one—it says on the box “Men’s Natural Soap”—as well as “Jimmy Red Corn & Sand Medium Grit”—if this is medium, I’m curious to try the “Heavy Grit!” Grit is good, when you want it, but last I checked, women have skin, too. Excellent ingredients, including “naturally derived fragrance” (presumably not chemical fragrance, which is where the problems can lie), Sand, and Jimmy Red Cornmeal—where the grit comes in—apparently that’s male cornmeal. Other good stuff, too—but the point is, it’s a gritty brown square that smells subtly like a glass of neat bourbon—drinkers of which ain’t everyone, but certainly not limited to hillbilly dudes. Grit is nice for anyone, if they’re lucky enough to have someone to scrub their back. Regardless of origin and narrowmindedness, I’ll buy more Dr. Squatch. An interesting note on the brand, it’s one of those rare “Band-name-proof” names, unlike, say, Chanel No. 5 (band), Ivory (band), Irish Spring (band), Best Mayonnaise (band), etc.—once we invented the internet, you can’t feign ignorance. Of course, the ultimate is The Internet (LA soul band) —gotta hand it to you, guys! (though for a long time I confused them, due to the name, with that combo of white Brooklyn hipsters with a similar generic handle—whose stage image is tech money gen-x’ers standing around discussing real-estate). Not the same band.

Soap Review No. 242

Pacha Soap Co. – Lavender & Blue Tansy Bar Soap

“Mood Indigo”

The usual good-for-your-skin Pacha ingredients, plus Lavender and Blue Tansy essential oils, which are supposed to be calming. Which we can all use. It smells really good—to me, more like lavender than anything. And what is blue tansy, besides, yeah, the band, Blue Tansy? It’s a flower from which this magical oil is extracted. But get this—it’s yellow. And that’s where the weirdness starts. Well, the flower is yellow, but when it’s processed (extracted, heated, etc.) it turns deep blue in color. And of course, lavender is lavender. The real mystery to me is how they make soap with distinct color patterns. (I know, it’s probably easily explained in a YouTube video, but I don’t want to know, see? I like the mystery!) When I bought the roughhewn, rectangular bar, deep blue in color, there were two darkish yellow circles, which you can tell are probably cylinders running through. As I’ve used it, one the circles got to the edge and it’s even weirder—also, the blue part seems to erode a little faster than the yellow, which makes for an even more interesting progress. I love this soap! For no good reason, that just reminded me of the Fuzzy Wuzzy soap from my childhood—these animal shaped soaps that actually grew hair! Horrifying, unexplained, weirdness from childhood! And to this day, I’m overly fascinated with art (and that includes soap) that changes, physically, over time, like Liederkranz cheese, some sculptures, and yes, soap, and, of course, people.

Soap Review No. 241

Michel Design Works – The Meadow

“Meadow Jones”

This is one of those soaps that internet research just makes more confusing—I have no idea if it’s disorganization, subterfuge, or entropy? All I know is that it makes my head spin—so I’m through with it! So, I’m just going by the sturdy box, which is confusing in its own way. On top of the pleasant floral design, it says: “Michel Design Works – by Stonewall Kitchen – The Meadow – Moisturizing Shea Butter Soap – with the scent of rain blossom.” And on the back, there’s enough nonsense to keep you guessing, including a generic description, instructions for use, and unknowable ingredients. A company logo with an elephant—why? It says: Style: #SOAX370 (what?) and Scent: Rain blossom. Under the weight it says: Made in England. And below the three lines of ingredients there’s a street address in Dublin (Ireland). And then: © Michel Design Works, a website address (like I said, already a confusing dead end) and: “Katona NY 10536 USA”—is that even a town? I looked it up—not really, it’s a “hamlet”—and you can’t find it—but if you did, if you went there asking about this company—expect to get treated like Spencer Tracy in Bad Day at Black Rock. Watch out. The soap? It’s white, nice on your skin, and has an uninspired floral scent. This has all made me so tired I feel like I’m losing my mind.

Soap Review No. 240

It’s Cold Outside! – Fresh Balsam & Cedar Scent Soap Bar

“It’s Colder Inside”

This happens to be Taylor Swift’s favorite soap. I know because I saw her buying three(!) bars of it at TJ Maxx over on Wall Street (near Pine and Cedar, get it?) She said she liked the fresh balsam scent that reminded her of walking in a pine forest at dusk on a brisk wintery evening. It’s even got a snow-specked wreath on the package! Sure, it was on sale, but she was supplying the three bathrooms of her Tribeca penthouse. Can you imagine living in New York and having three bathrooms? You’d need to get the TJ Maxx deals. I followed suit and bought a bar myself (last one) and I do enjoy the sharp, outdoor bite of this whiter than white big bar. It’s vegan and contains pogostemon cablin oil and purports to be made in England. Full disclosure: that bit about TS, I made that up, because every time I look at the internet, it’s trying to tell me what TS’s fav this and that is—why? How’d my algorithm arrive there? This is my revenge, and also, attempt to hustle up readers. Plus, I love to imagine the weirdness of being a houseguest at Taylor’s NYC crib and trying not to slosh up the guest bathroom soap too much.

Soap Review No. 239

Auromère Ayurvedic Soap – Himalayan Rose

“Indie Girlfriend”

To risk sounding like a broken record, even if your soap budget it minimal, you can afford this—elegant, handmade, skin-friendly, environmentally good, from India! Less expensive than mass-market grocery store crap—and it’s fun. You could reuse the box for your traveling circus cricket troop. It could be a gift for someone you love. The only thing I’m not crazy about is the fragrance—though it’s pleasant in its own way. It’s just a little severe for me—kind of sharp and too intense. It may well be the fragrance of Himalayan Rose (who sounds like someone Indiana Jones might date), I don’t know, I’m not familiar with that flower. That could be a good all-purpose saying—I’m gonna adopt that—anytime someone asks me a question I can’t answer, I’ll say: “I’m not familiar with that flower.” It’s a strong fragrance, and if it was nostalgic to me, I’d be more excited about it. Which reminds me, I haven’t had enough patchouli in my life, lately. One can do something about that without hurting anyone or going into debt.

Soap Review No. 238

La Savonnerie de Nyons – Savon Parfumé – Pivoine

“A Girl Named Peony”

If the peony (flower) is so great, how come no one is named after it? (I’m sure someone is, and no offense to them—I just have never come across anyone with that name!) A fine name for a girl, or a pet, and I think for a boy, as well, though it might be tough in our stone-age times—I guess the boy would learn to fight, like “the boy named Sue.” This is an off-white, disk-shaped soap with a lovely fragrance, and I mean lovely. I’ll go everywhere with flowers. It came in a cute, square box with a romantic micro-illustration of Saint-Tropez, rising from the beach and blue Mediterranean like the resort one could choose to die at. Upon second look, this is very strange art—in that it seems to be a largescale work that has been shrunken to 3-inch square, so it’s impossibly detailed—there are no pixels (or they’re microscopic)—how is this even achieved? Also, the soap isn’t from there, but a quite bit north, from Nyons! (70 rue Félix Maurent, ZA Les Laurons 2, 26110 NYONS.) I looked at online map, street view, and there’s a kid next to a dumpster, caught concealing something in his cargo shorts. Soap seconds, maybe? In fact, all these towns in southern France—you can spend your whole afternoon on the maps—they’re all so beautiful—what am I doing here? Well, I still have a job, and it’s another lovely, snowy day in Milwaukee, so there’s that.

Soap Review No. 237

NOLA – for Toilet, Bath and Shampoo – Hotel Bar Soap

“US 34”

That “tagline” is for U.S. Route 34, an old national highway that runs from Chicago to Colorado and passes through Burlington, Iowa, at the Mississippi. According to the light blue and white, two-tone packaging, this hotel bar soap was made by the Iowa Soap Company, in Burlington. I could imagine taking a car trip from Chicago to the Rocky Mountains (stopping in Burlington at Jerry’s Main Lunch for a late breakfast), traveling along US 34 and staying at motor hotels where you’d find this soap. It’s got a mild fragrance, and you can wash every part of y’self with it. I’m not going to knock myself out trying to recall the scent, so I’ll just say it does remind me of soap in my childhood (1960s). But what does “NOLA” mean? That’s the deeper mystery, and I can only speculate. There’s a soap company by that name, but their website indicates: not the same Nola. An article from the Ames Tribune offers some history—the company originated in the 1800s, and there was also NOLA Soap Flakes, for laundry, and lots of mergers, over time—but no clue to the meaning of the name. Naturally, one thinks: New Orleans, but that’s way down the river. It could be a woman to whom you’d plead, “Please baby please baby please baby baby baby please!” And there’s a record album with that name by “sludge metal” band, Down. I should have known that this journey would end in sludge.

Soap Review No. 236

Organik Botanik – Lavender & Manuka Honey

“Antarctica”

I’m re-reading Harriet the Spy, forgot the part where her mom threatened to “wash her mouth out with soap” because she said, “I’ll be damned…” Which cracked me up because I heard Christopher Walken, in Pulp Fiction, his little story about the watch. They used to do that, wash your mouth out with soap, and I can attest to that because I was there. (Ivory… it sucked.) With this soap, however, it might backfire, as it sounds like something you’d gently spread on a scone. I feel like I’ve made this exact same joke, in the same way, but alas, after 234 soap reviews, some repetition is to be expected. At any rate, this is a lovely smelling soap that came in a three soap box-set, from “Down Under” (TJ Maxx), three flavors coupled with Manuka Honey—not sure if that’s a thing? Or not—though I’m reasonably certain there’s a band with that name. Lavender is nice. When it first occurred to me to expand my horizons past grocery store bars of Dial and Dove, it was a lavender soap that inspired me (that French one that you can’t seem to find anymore). The color is equally as lovely—light purple and white, in chaotic stripes, looking like the petals of a flower. Bon appétit!

Soap Review No. 235

Papoutsanis – Aromatics – Tabac – Cedar and Amber Perfumed Soap

“The End”

In keeping with soap tradition, this one has like 17 names. I’m calling it… well, whatever, just not late for dinner. Or, perhaps. Since I bought the soap at Paul’s Omega family restaurant (or maybe it’s just Omega, now). When you buy your soap at the checkout of your family restaurant, your life is in order. Unfortunately, I’m not a “regular” at the Omega the way I used to be. For a while, there, back ’round the beginning of the century, that place was my art installation away from home. These days, however, I’m not eating out much, at diners, even breakfast. It was the worst of times, and then it got worse. Oh, well, if nothing else, I’m sure a ray of light will break through the clouds moments before the end, just to remind us of how much we fucked up. I’m not going to start smoking again, even though I’m currently suffering, in my copious soap dishes, two tobacco-scented soaps. This one is at least better than that other one, it’s not bad, its Greek manly—but it’s not inspiring my imagination the way some pipe tobacco, even in the package (or better in the package) does. Can’t smoke, though… but washing hands is eternal.

Soap Review No. 234

Avalon Court – Hotel Bar Soap (Ivory)

“Truoc Nolava”

Another motel soap, this one quite old, from the long-gone Avalon Court in Paris, Tennessee—birthplace of Cherry Jones—and “Home of the World’s Biggest Fish Fry”—sorry Milwaukee! The only other info on the wrapper is: “Phone 728”—which indicates it’s back from when phones had cords. Also, a large letter “A” which, if it doesn’t refer to Avalon Court, then, who knows! As usual, the best info online comes from postcards for sale—there’s a couple of cute ones of this old motel and restaurant on Highway 79. Paris, Tennessee—known as “The Paris of Tennessee”—is famous for a replica of the Eiffel Tower which is actually bigger than the Eiffel Tower! Not to mention a Dollar Tree. Also, it’s about halfway between Nashville and Memphis, and Paris, France is not. You don’t have the Seine, but there’s a shitload of creeks, which are better anyway because even I could build a bridge over a creek, given the right tools. The single-use size soap is Ivory, you know, Ivory—which floats, though no one really knows why—a mystery more than a few scientists have gone mad trying to get to the bottom of.

Soap Review No. 233

The Man Cave – Spiced Tobacco

“Vamoose”

My initial reaction to this soap was “is there room in my garbage can?” (It’s a massive bar, meant as a gift, I suppose, for the man who’s impressed by heft.) The fragrance, if you will, was a dead ringer for actual vomit. What exactly is “Spiced Tobacco” anyway—I mean, in the real world? Chewing tobacco or something? Well. Alas, I stuck with it, knowing from experience that sometimes they over-scent in order to draw attention to the misfits on the Island of Forgotten Bar Soaps (where I picked this up, for $3.99—and a promise to tell Santa to get off his skinny ass). And once you use it for a while, the smell mellows out a little and is more bearable—as was the case with this one. I don’t love it, but I don’t mind it. It’s got nice color and texture—though the problem with these really big bars is that, as they wear down, they turn into dog-bone shape. Not the worst thing. It occurs to me that some people are like this, as well—while initially off-putting, if you give them a chance, over time, they may easily mellow out and eventually be tolerable—if somewhat slippery and dog-bone shaped.

Soap Review No. 232

Shami – Aleppo Soap

“Hidden Heart”

Someone could just write reviews of Aleppo style soap—olive oil soap from Syria—or sometimes comes from elsewhere but is made in the traditional way—as this one, from Turkey. I’ve written about it before—it’s an amazing style of soap, and you can find countless articles and videos about it online. I’m not expert enough to be able to fairly judge one brand against another, but I do like some more than others. This one is great. As with many, it’s a cube shape, and pretty gnarly and imperfect looking when you unwrap it. Once you get it wet—and a few rough layers washed away, it feels lush and elegant—and the complex, heady fragrance comes out. The ingredients here are: “7% Natural Laurel Oil, 90% Natural Olive Oil, 3% Alkali.” It’s dark green in color, seeming both wholesome and exotic. Online it can be pricey, so it’s worth shopping around, because it can also be shockingly inexpensive. Best to try your local Middle Eastern market, if you’re in a city—I bought this one, in Milwaukee, at the Attari Supermarket on South 13th Street for two dollars, believe it or else. Also, the soap lasts forever—or seems like it—lasts longer than any other soap. Some Aleppo soap will sink (like normal soap) in water—but some will float! It’s so heavy and dense, it doesn’t seem to make sense, and I’m not going to try to figure out why. This one floats. Someone will try to tell me a scientific reason for it, but I say, it’s because it’s magic.

Soap Review No. 231

Fresh Thyme – Jasmine Gardenia Bar Soap

“Spanish Captain”

I love when some grocery stores have their own brand of “bulk” soap like this—huge piles of it, like it could be used as toy building blocks for kids who aren’t exclusive to the screen. Or maybe somewhere between “failed experiment on its way to the recycling” and “gold bars at Fort Knox”—and with this soap, I’ll go with the latter. You can put it in the little paper sleeves they offer, or you can just use no packaging whatsoever! I’d like to think they might give you a discount if you bought a box-load of it—though I wouldn’t do that, with my obsession with variety. At some point in the past, I had a gardenia scented soap that was one of my favorites, so I’m always looking for gardenia. (Though I also had one, different brand, that smelled kind of like poop, so you never know…) I’m not confident enough about the fragrance of jasmine and the fragrance of gardenia to know exactly what I’m smelling here, in which version, of each, and in what combination, but this soap is one of my favorites this year, for sure. It’s so lovely, I went right out and bought a second bar of it (and it was on sale and dirt cheap). Really, this is a good one. I think the ingredients are good, too—at any rate, it’s good on my skin. I can’t find anything about it online—which, in a way, makes me like it even more, Of course, there is a thoughtful, intelligent review of it—or at least there will be, as soon as I post this!

Soap Review No. 230

Pacha Soap Co. – Pacha Peaces

“Monday thru Sunday”

That’s the first time anyone ever put an ‘s’ at the end of the word “peace.” (Well, there’s a novel!) It’s a pun—there’s enough patchouli to kill a horse, and seven different pieces of soap—too small to really call “bars.” But big enough to experience—so it’s a good idea—you might find your new favorite soap here. It’s a “sampler” box, which is something I’m all for. Like those chocolates—who can argue with that? I once bought a Chanel fragrance sampler—four little bottles—that lasted me for years—that stuff goes a long way! I think some of the flavored sparkling water companies that have a lot of variety should put together sampler 12-packs! Anyway, I think Pacha put together a few of these boxes with different themes—this one is peace/hippie/patchouli, more or less. Pacha soap is relatively pricey, so I thought this might be a “cheat”—and I could review seven different soaps for one relatively low price—but I found them a little too small to get to know them over time (I’m a professional), so I went for the immersive experience—and I’m using them all at once. It’s a good thing I have twelve soap dishes. I’ll list them now—and do my best to rank then in order of preference. Pachafetti. Campfire Cedarwood. Coconut Papaya. Dirty Hippie. Almond Goat’s Milk. Spearmint Lemongrass. Clarifying Charcoal. But I love them all!

Soap Review No. 229

Crabtree & Evelyn – Goatmilk

“Evelyn Mulwray”

After that donkey milk soap from France, which really smells like milk, it’s hard to take this goatmilk soap all that seriously—how much goat milk, really, is there in it? Since this was a company that was bought by a much bigger company—you know what that means—the bottom line. Still, this is a very pleasing, light brown, egg-shaped soap with a soapy fragrance that I can’t nail down (sometimes that is just fine). The shape reminds me of Caswell-Massey, but of course, it’s not quite that quality. When I think about goat milk, I always remember when I first moved to Kent, Ohio in 1981—I rode my bike there—September, I guess, about a 75 mile ride from Sandusky—pretty exhausting, with the hills. At the point that I knew I was going to make it, late in the afternoon, along unbusy country roads, I came across a small farm market where I stopped to rest and get a cold drink. They were really big on their “Goat Milk Fudge,” so I bought some and ate a little during the rest of my ride. Oddly, I can’t remember if it was chocolate, or vanilla, or my favorite fudge flavor, peanut butter—but I remember that it as the best fudge I’ve ever eaten—though I’m sure that was partly the heightened situation. It was good, though. Sometimes I feel like the trying out and writing about different soaps must be the healthier, low-calorie, sugar-free way for me to indulge in the kind of excess that would otherwise put me on the path to an early grave.

Soap Review No. 228