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

Savon de Marseille – 72% D’Huile Lait D’Anesse (Donkey Milk Soap)

“S-assy”

One of the weirdest soaps I’ve used (since that haunted one), I mean in fragrance terms—I can’t really describe it, except that it does smell milky! Like milk, that is—which is really intense—almost too much for me at first, but it’s growing on me. My friends brought it for me from France—I’m not naming them, in case they were breaking laws—they might have smuggled it! There’s that French cheese, my favorite, can’t spell the name because I can’t find it! Because it’s illegal, for some dumb reason. I was just at the grocery, and about half the food is literally slow poison—yet you can’t import some French cheese. Anyway, they told me it’s “Donkey Milk Soap”—so I’m taking their word for it. For its name, I typed exactly what was engraved in the off-white bar—the only label is a one-inch-square barcode and ingredients sticker—all in French. I tried to find it online, but no dice. I looked up “Donkey Milk Soap,” and it seems to be a “thing,” but I didn’t see this one. I have some goat milk soap—it just smells like whatever fragrance is in it—and this one supposedly has “parfum”—but the donkey milk overpowers it! Excellent! What is a donkey? AKA, an ass, one of our equine friends. A product called “Ass Soap” may well not be a “thing”—though, on the other hand, look at what people drink, on purpose, for “fun.” I’ll be sad when this one is gone, it freaks me out every time I smell it (mild freakouts are good for you!) and it feels great, very lush, and rich, and I suppose makes me feel like a rich person, not to mention, French, when using it.

Soap Review No. 227

Grandview Lodge – Cashmere Bouquet Hotel Bar Soap

“Vintage Buds”

Colorado Springs is known for the water (the springs!) as in, what are they drinking… that cliché—but these days, since the whole country’s gone wackjob, I guess it’s beside the point. My experience there was visiting the Garden of the Gods when I was seven (with my family!)—memorable because I saw what I believed was a space alien—an eyeball on a stem rising from the rock formations. No one has been able to verify or deny this sighting. It is actually possible that we stayed at this place! —but it’s from my pre-journal years. This hotel bar soap comes in a very cool wrapper—it says: “Grandview Lodge” and “Modern Auto Court”—in varying period fonts—and it includes the address—so it was easy to track down. As is often the case, the motel is long gone and now it’s a Safeway parking lot. Bummer. If it’s any consolation, “Garden of the Budz” is right next door. You can find a few postcards for the motel, for sale—and it did look really cool—21 little cottages! —and the description (“innerspring mattresses” and “California furniture”) is pretty much what you’d expect. There’s one PC, from 1950 (one cent stamp!) sent to Milwaukee—and as usual from back then—illegible handwriting. Again, the soap is Cashmere Bouquet—its fragrance an undeniable time machine which zips me back about 60 years—to my aunt and uncle’s motel, maybe, or a family vacation—I don’t know. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last long enough for a real trip.

Soap Review No. 226

Alreef – Ocean

“Devil’s Urinal”

That “tagline,” Devil’s Urinal, is a bit harsh—I apologize to Alreef—but it came to me instantly while taking a whiff of the freshly opened soap 4-pack—and like I said before, that little slogan is the hardest part of the review, so I’m going with it. I’m fascinated with this soap, though. I bought it at the same Middle Eastern market where I bought my last Aleppo olive oil soap (which is the best), but this caught my eye—a plastic oval tower of four bars, the Alreef logo on top, and a photo on bottom of what looks like roiling surf with a variety of glowing seashells. On the English language side it says, “Ocean” and “Special Perfumes,” and there’s a lot of small print I’m not even going to attempt—so I’ll leave the ingredients a mystery. It does say: “Product of Turkiye.” The fragrance alone is so pronounced that I worry it’ll be harsh on the skin, so I’ve only used it as a hand soap. I’m too paranoid to give it the bath test, but so far so good, on my hands, but then, my hands can put up with a lot. I’m guessing some of my lady friends wouldn’t care for the smell—dudes as well! It could possibly evoke a “masking” style air freshener—but then again, I’m somewhat of a fragrance pirate. What I like most, though, is the absolute charm of appearance—the four identical bars each look like oval seashells, with ridged edges, and they are absolute 2-tone—top half stark white, and the bottom half a kind of very pleasant sky blue—an automobile color back in the day. Or, the blue might be top and the white bottom, it’s up it you. Like two half-shell soaps fused together. As the soap withers, it retains its shape (but smoother) and proportions, and total color separation—really quite beautiful.

Soap Review No. 225

AWSB – Dandelion

“I Think of U”

A funny thing happened—I saw one lighting bug this summer, one night—which made me think about how I used to see millions—it’s a summer thing. The very next day, there was an article on the front page of the newspaper (at my job) about how lightning bugs are disappearing—which is sad. I usually make a note of when I see the first dandelion of the year, write it on my calendar and, for me, that denotes the first day of summer. This year it was late April, and maybe the next day I saw this soap at a local apothecary—so I had to buy it. It’s not a local company, but it’s a small company, from Texas—it’s pricey, but if I was rich, I’d always buy these nice soaps with good ingredients that are good on your skin and have a pleasant fragrance. Dandelions aren’t known for their smell, but the flowers are beautiful, and you can eat the greens, and when I was in high school, I made dandelion wine in honor of Ray Bradbury’s book by that name, which I read every summer. Fragrance here is subtly provided by a few essential oils, I guess, though it smells slightly anise-y—pleasant and subtle, but not real exciting to me, just because it’s not nostalgic. Fragrance is so personal. I had to get out my pocket acronym finder to look up the company name—at first, I thought it said ASMR, which would have been weird. Then I thought of A&W Root Beer, which is also very summery. Also, AWB, (Average White Band), who have a fantastic song called “Sunny Days (Make Me Think of You).” Ultimately, I could have looked at their very nice website to discover it stands for: “A Wild Soap Bar”—their trademark is: “Take a wash on the wild side!”—and I’m all about that.

Soap Review No. 224

The Whiskey Ginger Supply Co. – Cedarwood Premium Bar Soap

“Spock Brew”

I feel like a broken record, but I’m always amazed with how many words they fit on soap packaging, as if in a longshot to appeal to everyone. This one came in a billiard room green metal box proclaiming the following on its lid: The Whiskey Ginger Supply Co. Premium Bar Soap London Hotel Marion Avondale 1710 Cedarwood Scratch & Sniff. What nonsense! Is there even a Hotel Marion in London? And 1710 Avondale? Why not just throw in Middlemist Red Camellia of Mal Reese and the Nocturnal Spice on Alderaan with Civet Glands, Caledonian Nightjar Milk and Vulcan Juice. I’m just being silly, to make a point—as in, am I really any more silly than they are? The last part, rather unfortunate, “Scratch & Sniff” in a little oval sticker which will never cleanly peel off—I suppose so you can sample the contents of the faux-expensive sepulchre before laying out the big bucks at TJ Maxx. You end up collecting these petite metal boxes—soap, tea, condoms—which don’t end up having any re-use—maybe they should sell pets, like small rodents and goldfish—at TJ Maxx—like in the old days at Woolworths. Then at least you’d have a use for your little coffin collection. I’m stalling—can’t really evoke the mild fragrance—I guess it’s Cedarwood, as far as I can tell. Too pleasant—and not quite Michael O’Hara—definitely more Spock than Mr. Scott.

Soap Review No. 223

Ayéya – Cheer

“Rhymes with Fear”

Like I said before, the hardest part of writing these soap reviews (not hard) is coming up with the little “tag-line” or slogan—so I don’t even know why I persist! It’s not like I’m at an ad agency where they at least get paid for siting around all day to come up with a dozen of those things. Plus, liquid lunch. So, when I think of one, I go with it, even if it makes no sense at all! Like this one (except that cheer does rhyme with fear). The odd thing is that, for some reason, there is no movie, song, novel, or band called “Rhymes with Fear.” And you’d think! Maybe it’s because of that “h” in rhyme. People don’t like that word. Well, some. I’m stalling because I can’t get a handle on this fragrance. It’s really nice, too. Would it be too dumb to say it cheers me up? This is another one of those Ayéya (Ayéya spelled backwards is awésome) soaps, cheap at Whole Foods, no packaging—though, with that name and color—plenty of baggage. I don’t think anyone would argue with me if I called it “powder blue”—everyone knows what that is. It brings to mind the band, “Blue Cheer,” who I’ve never been that nutty about—it seems like you needed to hear them at full volume (play LOUD or not allowed). Also, a laundry detergent everyone remembers. No doubt some type of drug (any color + common word = drug name). Of course. LSD anyone? So, I cheated and looked at their website, and this one said vanilla and cinnamon! Not totally a shock. Makes sense. Am I coming around to vanilla finally? As long as it’s not vanilla coffee or the artificial vanilla mall candles or hanging car air freshener, vanilla can be really fine. It can be the best. Same goes for cinnamon. Those are two of the most pedestrian flavors, but also two of the best, which is, how, I guess, they got to be pedestrian. A lovely (and affordable) soap.

Soap Review No. 222

Dr. Squatch – Fresh Falls

“Sonic Blunger”

I bought a variety three-pack of Dr. Squatch—so, more to come. All equally masculine sounding. It says right on the box: “Men’s Natural Soap”—so maybe they don’t sell it to women? Or you have to sneak it through the self-check? A little pricy, but I snatched it up because I’d never heard of it, and the ingredients are simple and sound good—and indeed, my skin is fine with it. Also, I liked the box, the goofy name, and the funny cartoon drawing. I tried looking at their fancy-pants website, but there was too much bullshit jumping around, so I abandoned the quest. I suppose there are a few products that are, by definition, gender-specific, but you wouldn’t claim that a book, or a movie, or music, or some food was only for men, or women, but not both—so why would you do that with soap? Is there something I don’t know about? Or is it just the fragrance that’s considered masculine? I suppose “Fresh Falls” implies nature, maybe camping, but when I opened the box, I got a whiff of vacuum cleaner salesman. It quickly mellowed out, however, into a lovely, complex, and not overly “manly” scent. The Dr. Squatch cartoon is a hairy dude, smoking a pipe, which is hilarious. I’m guessing he’s a mythical creature, so I looked up “Squatch” and was surprised to see that he was the mascot of the Seattle SuperSonics—and… that team no longer exists! But seeing how basketball is no longer on TV, I’m not surprised I missed that news. Short for Sasquatch, also known as Bigfoot, Abominable Snowman, Yeti, Fouke Monster, Momo, Se’sxac, Skunk Ape, Sackacrotch, Wood Booger, Ohio Grassman (ha, I like that one)… and they just go on and on. A seemingly endless roster of names for something that doesn’t even exist!

Soap Review No. 221