Halló Iceland – Volcanic Ash

“Lava Hockey”

I assume they play hockey in Iceland—I don’t know about in volcanoes—or with this soap as a puck, even though it’s puck-shaped—my favorite soap shape! The soap comes from Rhode Island—though supposedly the ash (ingredient) is from Iceland. There are a lot of ingredients I’d rather not look into, including “Fragrance”—and it is pungent. The box describes it as “cedar leaf, smoked wood, crisp birch, and a hint of dark pepper.” I’ve no problem with that, though my initial assessment is “weirdly too sweet and kind of pukey.” I don’t love the fragrance, but I do love the grit—it’s one of the grittiest I’ve had in a while—a fine bath soap. Also, the box is weird—it looks like it would contain a man’s cologne or some very expensive earbuds—but the weirdest thing is that the inside of the box is covered with a photograph—what looks like a photo or photos of rocks—maybe a volcano (that would make sense, huh). That’s right, I said inside. On the inside of the box. Maybe it’s a photo of the inside of a volcano! Very cool, if you ask me, and a bizarre design choice.

Soap Review No. 191

Sayman Vegetable Wonder Soap – Guest Size

“Aunt Dan’s Powder Room”

The tiny, hotel-size bar has ridged edges and raised letters on each side—its name on one, and “Sayman Products” (along with something small and worn away, probably “St. Louis”). A lot of detail! The little wrapper is even more detailed, covered with light blue soap bubbles. “Sayman Soap” is in that German-looking “Fraktur” font, in blue, and “vegetable wonder” in gay, orange cursive. There’s also an orange rectangle that says, “Guest Size.” On back, there’s a tiny portrait of a guy (I’m guessing Sayman) and a mysterious plant (I’m guessing it’s witch hazel). Also, brief instructions (“twice a day” and “for oily skin”) and the message: “If your dealer can’t supply you, send 50 cents for 3 large cakes.” Good deal—that’s back when you could tape two quarters to a postcard, and it would get there! I wonder just how large those “cakes” were? The fragrance really takes me back. It’s similar to Cashmere Bouquet but not as floral—a little more subtle and natural. But it sure does remind me of childhood, maybe visiting one of my many relatives, the older aunts and uncles, their bathrooms, and the smells unique to their products. That smell remembrance never leaves the memory! Oh, and a final, interesting, crucial detail—this soap floats!

Soap Review No. 190

Nubian Heritage – Raw Shea Butter

“Taupe-On-A-Rope”

This is a company with a lot of products, a lot on the internet—I’ve seen it in several stores—so it’s easy to get your hands on. I don’t usually do this, but I looked up some reviews, and it seemed like some people weren’t happy with ingredients changes (I guess this one’s been around awhile) to the extent of people posting pics of the old box. But I’m not pursuing those issues—I’m just going to judge it for what it is. When I bought this soap, I was thinking “pure” shea butter (as in, like, one ingredient) rather than “raw” shea butter—very different concepts. But that’s okay—that just reflects my cluelessness. The soap is very good on my skin, despite too many ingredients—including one that kind of cracks me up: Soy Milk. (Isn’t soy milk a form of soy, but when rendered into soap, it’s, again, just soy?) Well, anyway, I especially love the color, which—if this isn’t taupe, then nothing’s taupe. And the fragrance—which is like no other soap I have. What is that fragrance? I’m thinking it must be Frankincense—but I don’t have any other Frankincense on hand to compare them. But the bottom-line is, the color and fragrance are delightful—and not getting remotely confused with other soap I have out. And my skin likes it.

Soap Review No. 189

Alchimia – Bourbon

“Brass Balls”

I am both repulsed by and attracted to extreme men’s aftershave fragrance—not surprising—everyone knows that attraction and repulsion are two sides of the same coin. Thus, this soap. It’s from Italy. Stark, minimal, textured clay-red package with big, black letters: BOURBON. The bourbon ends there, but that’s okay. It’s a vegetable soap, but if it was made from raw steak, it would be no less masculine. The bar is an unadorned, stark-white, 300-gram brick. It will last me half the year. The crucial thing here is the fragrance. I haven’t owned a soap that more viscerally evokes the heady, dizzying odor of a manly man’s aftershave. It’s almost scary. I’m sure a lot of people would hate this fragrance with a passion. I personally really like it. What exactly is it? It may be bourbon, in part, but it must also be some woodsy, musky smell, and leather, smoke, sweat, death. It’s from another time, driving an expensive car, probably has a weapon. But no reason to think it’s a bad person, necessarily—that would be unfair. Still… watch out. It needs only to speak quietly. A little goes a long, long way.

Soap Review No. 188

Mysore Sandal Soap

“Best of 1916”

Constantly considering moving to a remote location (less car traffic, quieter, more birds?), I always have to consider that I may not be able to walk over to any number of Indian food markets with the certainty of picking this soap off the shelf for $3. Not that it’s hard to find on the internet, and you could probably drive the pickup truck an hour to Walmart, if you can stomach that. Anyway, I have reviewed this soap previously, but this one is a different size (I think it’s the same soap—manufactured by Karnataka Soaps—coming from the Sandalwood epicenter of the world—but I’m not going back to my old reviews—forward!). This particular issue has a square box and the soap is a really cute circular shape—a fat, little disk—while the other was flat oval shape like one of the Chandrikas. The box is exceptionally elegant—raised letters, multiple, deep colors, greens and reds, and a design that looks like another time period, with pink and yellow rose-like flowers. The Wikipedia page for this soap is full of interesting information—that I’m not going to paraphrase—but it’s worth reading—especially if you’re enjoying this soap. The crucial thing here, of course, is sandalwood oil, which gives this soap a feeling and smell all its own.

Soap Review No. 187

Carlsbad Caverns – Hotel Bar Soap

“Inland Sea”

The blue wrapper of this old hotel bar soap says: “Pueblo Court, White’s City, New Mexico” and “At the Entrance to Carlsbad Caverns National Park.” There’s a little drawing of a road twisting through a mountain pass leading to an abstracted abyss. The wrapper would seem to be the most interesting thing about the soap, since you can find Whites City on the map—one of those desolate looking desert tourist towns. Not a lot there. Starbucks-free. Between Whites City Cavern Inn and the Cactus Café looks like what was once an old motor inn—could have been the Pueblo Court. Even more interesting to me, though, is the soap inside the wrapper. A surprisingly tiny (forgot how small hotel soap was) slightly-off-white bar—engraved on one side is: “Cashmere Bouquet” and the other: “Colgate-Palmolive-Co. Jersey City, N.J. Made in U.S.A.” I don’t exactly remember Cashmere Bouquet—long discontinued—from my childhood—but I definitely remember this fragrance. It takes me right back in time! Sure enough. One other weird note—that Indian soap, Nomarks, that I was so obsessed with because of the fragrance—this one is—not exactly—but the closest to that I’ve encountered. Could the Nomarks have been emulating the fragrance of classic Cashmere Bouquet? It’s likely. It’ll be interesting to see what else is in store with this lot of old hotel soaps I scored on the eBay.

Soap Review No. 186

Florinda – Sapone Vegetale – Lime

“Must Have”

It smells more like lime than most things in (or out of) nature, even limes. What it reminds me of is these frosted cocktail glass scented candles my parents’ always got out at Christmastime (never lit)—there was red (raspberry), yellow (lemon), and green (lime). Nothing else smelled like those—that intense. This soap comes close, so that’s something. It’s an enormous, off-white, rectangular bar of vegetal soap made in Italy. It’s got great packaging, matte paper with realistic drawings of sliced limes. I once said my favorite food is… lime. Kind of a smart-ass answer… but who can answer that question honestly (without saying pizza). The packaging makes a point of letting you know that this is a “vegan-friendly” vegetable soap—not made with animal fat (in which case the other lime might be present for saponification). The lime here is purely fruity. If you’ve got one of those houses with like eight bathrooms, you’ll want this soap in one of them.

Soap Review No. 185

Old Spice – Sport – Barra de Jabón

“Uncle Soapy”

I’m an idiot—I’ve had this in my soap rotation for a while, kinda wondering why it doesn’t really smell like “Old Spice”—and I just looked at the box and noticed the little blue tag with a soccer ball that says “Sport”—so that’s why. Old Spice fragrance sometimes reminds me of that stuff they sprinkle on vomit, while Old Spice Sport smells like a hoard of frat guys in a sports bar. My notes indicate that I bought this in a “dollar store”—packaging is bi-lingual (Spanish)—ingredients list alarming. Old Spice is from 1937—my history with it is c.1973, when someone wrapped me a manly Old Spice gift set for Christmas—and for a while, there, I was “Mr. Old Spice”—until the deodorant caused underarm rash and the cologne and aftershave became repellant. Really cool bottles, though—the white ceramic Erlenmeyer with a blue sailboat. My tagline “Uncle Soapy” refers to my favorite clown, Duane Thorpe—because I really do picture him as an Old Spice Guy.

Soap Review No. 184

Auromère Ayurvedic Soap – Sandal-Turmeric

“Hippie Spa”

A little rectangular bar of Ayurvedic soap from India—small, but it costs nothing, and you’ll want to make it last. Actually, it came in a 3-Pack with other “flavors” from this company—which I’ll try later—each one with a skin-type designation on the box—this one being: “Oily – Normal”—which more or less fits me. Check out some of these ingredients: Fenugreek, Mung Bean, Costus, Indian Madder Root, Zedoary, Nutgrass, Celastrus Seed, Indian Licorice Root, Indian Gooseberry, Dhub Grass, Indian Butter Tree Oil, Indian Beech Oil, Sandalwood, Neem Bark, Turmeric and more! I don’t know what all those are, but it kind of makes you want to eat it—if not smoke it! It smells really good, too—I closed my eyes and challenged myself to come up with exactly where it was taking me, and I conjured up a humid, lush, exotic, hippie spa. Indian soaps have the best fragrance, and Indian food has the best flavors—is there a connection there? I think so.

Soap Review No. 183

Alquimia Holistica – Greens

“Basil Tea”

Does someone make basil tea? I’ll look that up. (Of course.) I spent way too long trying to find the exact name of the beautiful shade of green of this soap—the problem being, color databases are often incomplete, weird, full of ads, plus, most green shades color names are the name of some other plant (honeydew, etc.). So, that won’t work—the closest I found is the subtle shade of green tea in a glass. Which is appropriate, here. The “Greens” subtitle is: “Avocado – Basil – Matcha”—which, along with cat whiskers and coffee, are my favorite things. The fragrance is mostly basil, which happens to be my absolute favorite thing in nature. My favorite dish is pho—much of that has to do with the fragrance—the fresh basil infused into the soup at the time of eating it, and the way it mixes with the subtle flavor of the broth. My favorite all-time shampoo was this very expensive basil scented one (forgot the brand; can’t afford it)—just lovely. My favorite actor playing Sherlock Holmes is Basil Rathbone, and my favorite rabbit hole is the pronunciation of “Basil” (long or short A?) rabbit hole. My favorite scene in the movie, Clockwork Orange, is when Alex comes back home and his parents have rented out his room to some asshole and gotten rid of his pet snake, Basil. When he says, “Where’s Basil? Where’s my snake?”—that’s the one time you feel empathy for him in the entire movie. My favorite soap of 2023 is this one—Alquimia Greens—which is local, out of Milwaukee—and wins the Soap Exotica favorite soap of the year award! Rats Congee!

Soap Review No. 182

OC Men – Bay Rum

“Oh, See?”

Full name: OC Men Relaxing Aromatherapy Bay Rum Exfoliating Bar Soap. The box also says it’s vegan and cruelty free and crafted in CA and “Natural Ingredients.” What is “OC?” Orange County? Original Coalminer? Overrated Caregiver? No… in this case, Olivia Care. Who is Olivia? Olivia de Havilland? No… in this case, it refers to olive oil, a major ingredient in their products. The ingredients list is excellent—short, and I know what everything is. The one concerning mention is “fragrance”—and that’s because this is a “men’s” soap—and just from experience, those manly fragrances can cause you to break out, experience skin irritation, court migraines, or even be fooled into thinking there’s a dude invading your apartment. But not in this case! This one is nice. The exfoliation isn’t real efficient because it consists of coffee, ground up, but it’s not ground that fine—and some is quite chunky—but it’s still pleasing. This really does come off like a bay rum smelling coffee infused soap—which feels nice, too (olive oil and glycerin). It’s a good soap.

Soap Review No. 181

Mountain Path – Scented Soap

“Backwoods Cypher”

Virtually no internet presence—I mean, I could keep searching—but I’m not trying to find a killer here. Just a lovely scented, gentle soap, a smallish bar, tan in color, some texture (the box mentions “Oatmeal”). Nice box with a tasteful watercolor wash landscape in earthtones. There is an address in Canada (Toronto), but seeing how it’s “Airport Road,” you know that’s an industrial park, big warehouse—I don’t even have to look it up. I was going to joke, Tim Hortons nearby. But then I looked it up anyway, couldn’t resist, I love maps—it’s a huge warehouse, in an industrial park. Tim Hortons across the street. There are some sketchy, chemically ingredients—but then it’s just one bar—I’m not getting married to it. And as usual, none sketchier than “Fragrance”—but what is the smell of this soap? It’s as elusive as the soap itself. It’s a pleasant yet hard to nail down woodsy smell. A little more perfumy than the woods usually cough up—but I’ll allow it, and enjoy the mystery.

Soap Review No. 180

Institut Karité Paris – Lavender Perfume Shea Soap

“Dr. Lavande”

Guess where this soap comes from? It’s not Paris, Texas. It’s a little, perfectly square (not cube), white bar that comes in a compact paper package with a purple (for lavender) label. It looks more like a container for… something… than soap. Let’s see. Art supplies? Little glossy black and white photos of scantily dressed women? Snuff? They have an uninspiring website with too many things jumping around (like most websites) so it’s like you’re playing French Whac-A-Mole. There are more ingredients than a Hostess CupCake, and some I’m not sure I want near my skin—but maybe I’m wrong—at least the shea butter is a good one. The fragrance is the thing here, I feel like, the signature of this soap, and it’s some serious lavender perfumery. Some might find it a tad intense—but I kind of like it. At least you don’t forget that it’s there.

Soap Review No. 179

HOPIFICIO – White Musk

“X”

The name is stylized like H2OPIFICIO—as in water—not sure what that means—I’m too weary to much care. The “White Musk” part is intriguing—I’m not going to paraphrase all the speculative bullshit about the fragrance with that name—if the readers are interested, the readers can make their own inquiries. I might look into it myself, later. Anyway, it’s different than “musk”—which is also a word with many meanings—when it comes to scents. This is a fancy-pants Italian soap (nice packaging, both tasteful and tacky)—it’s another one for giving as a gift—and leaving untouched in the powder room. The mile-long list of chemically ingredients scares me, as does the aggressive perfume—it smells a bit like funeral flowers—I like it, but I don’t know if I want it to join me in the bathtub. So… I don’t know if rich people use this soap—probably not—but what do rich people use? I’m sure it varies (I would hope), but that gives me an idea for a new product business. I was thinking about when I worked a few days at the coat check at the U.N.—those coats just felt different (some rich, maybe, some important diplomats, all international). What if we were able to market, somehow, the scent of celebrities? (I mean it would just be a sanctioned rundown of their fragrance products in affordable, temporary form—not their actual body odor, gross.) I think people would go for it, some people, those smell-centric inclined. And for the rich people, a way to make more money without really doing anything.

Soap Review No. 178

Palmolive Naturals – Suavidad Exfoliante – Con Coco Y Algodón

“Coco-Phone”

I bought this soap at the Cermak grocery, with the Mexican products—it’s Mexican made Palmolive, in Spanish language packaging with an English language ingredients sticker weirdly and haphazardly stuck on back—with the soap’s name in English: “Palmolive Coconut Water Bath Soap”—totally different name. Bizarre. I’ll go with the real package (even though I can do without that “Naturals” business). I get the “exfoliating” part—and it does have a pleasant grit—but I’m pretty sure I’m off track thinking it’s a soap for “suave dads”—it could be, but anyone might like it. The coconut part is obvious—there’s a split open coconut on the package. Which reminds me, I also bought a fresh coconut at the grocery—I forgot how delicious coconut is! I really like the shape of this soap—it’s kind of “U” shaped, like a little handle that will fit in your hand—and also will let water drain out under—it makes a lot of sense—it reminds me of an old-school handset telephone. Why doesn’t other soap do this? The company is Palmolive—so huge corporation—but they’ve been around since like Biblical times (see: their name). But anyway, the ingredients (as far as I can tell, still no chemistry degree) are good. It’s got a nice feeling, a gentle soap, and the fragrance has a nostalgic quality (like clean laundry at your grandparents’ house) and there’s plenty of it—it might be a little strong for some. I’m not sure what it is, but I love it.

Soap Review No. 177

Duke Cannon Supply Co. – Accomplishment is Our Secret Weapon!

“True Grit”

Of the Duke Cannon soaps I’ve tried, this is the most usable, I mean for other than a laugh—for one, because of its subtle fragrance—when washing with it, you don’t feel like you’re in a Chrysler Imperial with a guy selling vacuum cleaners door-to-door. The always entertaining DCSC box states that the scent is “inspired by drinking a fine scotch in a wood-paneled den.” I don’t know about that, but it does have some fragrance, and it’s pleasant. What I like best about this very large, coal black soap, though, is its feel, which is slightly gritty—there’s a very fine sandy texture—I’m assuming from the activated charcoal—and it’s very nice on your skin. You’d never guess that from the soap’s name, which nonetheless is inspired—though, gets me thinking about that phrase, “secret weapon”—which is seldom a literal weapon—and can be applied to virtually any field of endeavor. Plenty of the usual “real man” nonsense on the box—kind of funny, considering that real men use whatever’s cheapest in the grocery store and don’t spend time thinking about it. There’s even a “trademarked” slogan, “Not for Clowns”—which I take to mean equating clowns with incompetent people—totally wrong. Clowns exist to get under your skin—and if it’s your intention to “ban” them, then they’ve done their job.

Soap Review No. 176

Good Earth – Cedar & Citrus Soap Bar

“Antique Mall”

Sometimes I wonder why I keep dicking around with questionable and sketchy soap from discount houses when I could just buy this excellent quality stuff and use it with confidence that I’m not going to break out under my arms or raise otherwise weird rashes. It’s a little more expensive, sure, but it also lasts longer and it’s worth it. Yet, I keep up the experiment. Anyway, this is the second flavor I’ve tried from this relatively local (Green Bay) company, and it’s a pleasure whenever I engage it. I’ve been keeping it alive longer than I might have by only using it for my face (where my nose is located—and derives much pleasure from the natural fragrances of lavender, cedar, orange, and patchouli). It must be tricky to mix fragrances, and I have to say, had I tested it blind, I would have guessed citrus and patchouli—though both are pleasingly subtle. I can’t pick out the cedar, but it’s likely there, adding to the mix, and I’m happy the lavender isn’t dominant (I love lavender, but there’s a time and place). And, yes, I’m always happy for patchouli, whether if be from soap, hippie passersby, or service professionals—I’ll take it.

Soap Review No. 175

Castelbel Porto – Exfoliating Soap – Poppy Seeds

“Failed Drug Test”

Another big bar of this Portuguese soap—this one specifically “For Men”—for some reason. The soap itself is pleasant, off-white with irregular poppy seeds for the exfoliating. Usually when a soap is geared toward “the unfair sex” it has to do with fragrance—and in this case, the package says: “Fragrance: Whiskey.” Knowing that, I can smell it, but I wouldn’t have guessed. It’s pretty subtle—anyone who doesn’t like overpowering fragrance should be okay with it—gender aside. The smart packaging is really the only thing “masculine” here—it’s burgundy-brown with black and gold letters and a gold top hat as the only adornment. As far as poppy seeds go, I don’t think I’ve yet seen them in soap, so this is cool. When I think of poppy seeds, I think of them in baked goods—they always add a nice touch—not sure, really, what level of deliciousness they add—but why not. I remember hearing that since they come from the opium poppy, they can give you positive results on drug tests. Frankly, that sounds like a lot of hogwash to me, but then, so are drug tests.

Soap Review No. 174

Crabtree & Evelyn – LaSource

“Terry Crabtree”

Terry Crabtree being the only person I could think of with that last name, offhand—he’s a character in “Wonder Boys” (the movie—and I’m thinking the book, but I don’t remember), a flamboyant, gay, book editor who might scoff at this soap—though maybe he bought this very giftset, C & E box-o-three, at the Atlantic Center and had it giftwrapped and mailed for obligatory X-Mas gift for his dear old mom in Sagaponack—who then put this bar in her powder room, never to be touched by grimy hands or tapwater. To a fault, I can’t resist these boxsets at TJ Maxx. The fragrance is rich-person nice—and surprisingly subtle, but maybe it’s just worn out after a year trapped on a backed-up container ship. I’m a little afraid of all the chemically named ingredients, but the one listed as “Parfum (Fragrance)” might be the worst—could be damn near anything. I might never get to the others in the set—I might give up this budget soap exploration and just buy local, natural ingredient soaps (that would be the wise thing, but I’m…). At any rate, the name translates as “The Source”—duh. But what it really means, I think, in the French sense, is: “seed”—you know, sperme… semen, cum, jizz. Pole milk. Daddy sauce. So there you have it.

Soap Review No. 173

Nature’s Blend – Seaweed & Tea Tree Soap

“Seatree & Weed Tea”

From New Zealand, which is a long way from here, but maybe not so far for a bar of soap. I mean, how much of a freighter ship does it take up? Percentagewise? I’d love to see the journey it took—someday we’ll be able to do that. Every product will have a chip, and we’ll be able to scan it and trace its entire journey—I suppose you can do that now with a lot of things. There’s a lot of good ingredients, and it’s got a lovely green color with brown seaweed exfoliating specs. It looks a little like pistachio ice cream, so be careful not to eat it. When you think about it, Seaweed & Tea Tree has a ring to it, but I don’t know what else it could be but a beauty product. The scent is very subtle—I guess it’s a mild tea tree scent—no perfume whatsoever—so if you’re into an un-perfumy soap, this might be for you.

Soap Review No. 172