Cremo Exfoliating Body Bar – No. 2 – Sage & Citrus

“Cremo Wheat”

The full name of this soap (on the box, anyway) is: “Cremo Astonishingly Superior Exfoliating Body Bar – Made with Shea Butter – No. 2 – Sage & Citrus – A Revitalizing Combination of Bright Mandarin, Dry Herbs, and White Cedar.” What’s with the lengthy soap names? It’s a lengthy trend. With some of them, like this one, I could just type the name of the soap and that’d be wordcount enough to serve as a review! The brand name, and the fact that this soap has wheat as an ingredient, reminded me of “Cream of Wheat” breakfast cereal, or porridge. Which reminds me of a joke—which I more or less stole from Jimmy Nelson—that I’d soon like to be preforming with my partner, “Peter Franks,” my ventriloquist “dummy.” Peter: “Last night I had a dream I was eating cream of wheat. All night long… eating cream of wheat.” Me: “Yeah?” Peter: “Yeah! And when I woke up, half the mattress gone!” Fortunately, the soap is more pleasant than my “comedy.” Interesting fragrance—one word: Aunt and Uncle’s house, late Sixties. (That’s six words. I can count.)

Soap Review No. 205

Pears – Pure and Gentle Bathing Bar

“Pears AF”

A nice, inexpensive, glycerin soap with a slightly inevitable and nostalgic fragrance—not real strong, but evocative—exactly what I think it should smell like—from some past situation. The box says “98% Pure Glycerin & Natural Oils”—does that mean the other 17 or so ingredients make up only 2% of the soap? Or that it’s mostly pure, but 2% impure? If so, it’s that 2% that worries me. Soap is from Unilever, India. I like the idea of a “bathing bar” as a place where you drink and bathe—though, maybe not the drinking part. What does “Pears” mean? An unusually satisfying question to look up and read about—it’s named after an Englishman, Andrew Pears, who invented transparent soap. A true classic, it’s been around a long time, since 1807! A lot of soap under London Bridge! I probably used this same soap, more or less, as a child, which wasn’t nearly so long ago, of course. I gotta say, this soap is really pleasant when it’s wet—so I’ll overlook the lies on the box (“Look Young/Stay Young”), the 2%, what I imagine as the Unilever factory, and the “Pears” font. I’ll visit that bathing bar, especially if Lillie Langtry is along.

Soap Review No. 204

Crabtree & Evelyn – Gardeners

“Chauncey Gardiner”

I love the green color and the oval shape of this soap, and the classy Crabtree & Evelyn logo carved in, and the name, “Gardeners.” But I’m not crazy about how, as the soap is used, it separates into a top and bottom, like a hamburger bun—a quality which (whether I’m right about this or not) I associate with factory made soap. Of course, it’s all (well, most, soap, that is) made in a factory of some type (except for the truly homemade soaps)—but this one rubs me the wrong way. Maybe, in part, it’s because I don’t love the fragrance—it’s not terrible, but it just doesn’t do anything for me—and for that reason I spent very little time “researching” this brand. It sounds like they sold the company, and then it was sold again, and again and again… until… well, who knows. On a sketchy website there’s a rather creepy photo of two soapy hands washing each other—taking a somewhat disturbing posture. What’s it mean? Hopefully, nothing. What’s any of this have to do with Chauncey Gardiner? (From the 1979 movie, Being There.) Nothing at all—they’re not even spelled the same!

Soap Review No. 203

Auromère Ayurvedic Soap – Lavender-Neem

“Hippie Aunt”

A nice, little, soap bar from India that came in a “3-pack”—three different “flavors” (look at those ingredients, you might want to eat it, but don’t!)—one of which I’ve previously reviewed. This one says “All Skin Types”—but really? I suppose it is very mild (some people can’t tolerate ANY soap, which is like me with food [and criticism] [ha!] and probably aren’t avid readers of my soap nonsense musings)! It comes in a nice package, too—my only criticism is that the bar is small and disappears all too rapidly. I might have said in the past that I’m through with lavender—didn’t really mean it—but I’ve had so many lavender soaps, it becomes somewhat commonplace. But this particular iteration of lavender is a revelation—it’s quite fragrant but also as lovely as lavender should be. I’m sure I’ve noted in the past that Indian soaps have the best fragrances—and seeing how Indian food has the best flavors—that kind of makes sense. I might have said that same exact thing before—but after 200 soap reviews it’s understandable that I might repeat myself a little.

Soap Review No. 202

Utah Motel Motor Park – Salt Lake City – Hotel Bar Soap

“Traveling Salesman”

Another hotel bar soap with Cashmere Bouquet inside. The star of this one is the simple line-drawing on the wrapper, thin red lines, suggesting the motel. It’s barely a representation of anything, but the horizontal lines put you in mind of a Fifties-style motor hotel, one or two stories. It says Motor Park on the “roof”—which indicates you can either park in a carport or right up to your door. There’s a vertical “Motel” sign, suggesting “space age” up-to-date-ness, such as TV, AC, and a shower. And then there’s another vertical sign that says: “Utah”—this part is shaded light yellow—intimating considerable class (for a motel)—the sign increasing in size as it ascends—U on top—with horizontal arrows running through it. The whole thing conjures neon lights as much as a soap wrapper can. Salt Lake City on bottom is the only location clue. I’m guessing the place is either long gone or has a different name, because a quick search turns up nothing. Once again, the soap itself—from the Colgate-Palmolive-Peet Co. in Jersey City—is incredibly nostalgic as only smells can be—a solid clue that this particular fragrance was a vivid part of my lost childhood.

Soap Review No. 201

Institut Karité Paris – Almond & Honey Perfume Shea Soap

“Pukey McDookie”

Don’t be put off by that “nickname”—like I said before, the hardest part of my job here is to come up with that few-syllable “tagline”—as if I’m some ad agency douchebag. On the other hand, feel free to be put off by this one, because it accurately hints at my reaction to this soap. Honestly, I almost just threw it away. Like I said before, with soap fragrances, watch out for nuts and sweet stuff—and this one has both. Also, watch out for lead-footed perfumers. Nothing against the French. I love the French. But this soap smells like a time machine funeral parlor in a gothic exploitation comic book. Also, it’s been brought to my attention by the underpaid Speen-dot-com staffers that this is “Soap Review Number 200” on the Soap Exotica page! Am I supposed to jump for joy? Well, I’m not falling for that celebration of the base-ten system—it’s just a number. I don’t care more about 10 than 3 or 7—why should I? Until there are 10 days in a week, anyway. And why not? Why 7? It’s totally arbitrary, not based on any celestial orbiting balls and shit. The good thing about having a 10-day week is we could then have a 5-day weekend—every week—and no one could complain! Anyway, I guess 200 is a lot of soap reviews. You’d think I’d feel a little cleaner than I do.

Soap Review No. 200

Alquimia Holistica – Horchata

“No Tomorrow”

When I bought (at a little pop-up place at the Milwaukee Walker’s Point Zócalo Food Park—a place I visit far too infrequently) the other bar of Alquimia Holistica soap (named: Greens, which won the Soap Exotica fragrance of the year Golden Nose Award), I was allowed to pick this bar up out of the free box… but it’s had to wait its turn! I have to admit, as well, that I was a little afraid of this one. Why? Because I have found that sometimes soaps that are styled after a delicious, sweet, confectionary, turn out to be scary and gross. I don’t know why this is. But imagine, a soap comes your way that’s called: “Vanilla Ice Cream Cone”—danger Will Robinson! Horchata can be a lot of things, I guess, but what I’ve usually had is a Mexican version that’s a delicious, cold, rice drink that’s sweet and flavored with vanilla and cinnamon. Somewhat of a non-dairy vanilla milkshake dessert. Almost too good. It disappears out of your cup like there’s no tomorrow. But when it comes to soap, I’m wary of vanilla, wary of cinnamon, and wary of anything based on a sweet food. All of my fears were dashed, however, once I finally started to use it. The fragrance is subtle and sublime—it smells exactly like horchata without being gross. It’s a smooth, luscious, clean soap. Good on your skin, too. Could it possibly win this year’s Golden Nose? Well… little chance of that… because I just made up that Golden Nose business. But in a more delicious world, absolutely!

Soap Review No. 199

Pacha Soap Co. – Jasmine Gardenia

“Girlfren”

Ever since I had a gardenia scented soap (forgot which brand, now, offhand) I’ve kept on the lookout for a similar fragrance—not that you can ever match anything, exactly—especially a heightened memory. But you don’t see them every day—and one gardenia soap I had was kind of gross—in the way that floral scents can be cloying and overwhelming. But this one is just very pleasant, a pleasure to use in the bathtub. At first I thought it was too subtle, but then I realized that its restraint was part of the fragrance success. Maybe gardenia and jasmine are a fine combination, as well. You can pretty much count on Pacha soaps to come up with balanced and lovely fragrances, I think. I’ve not been unhappy with any I’ve tried. You can also count on them to shrink too fast—sometimes I wish they were larger. Or cheaper. Or, me, wealthier. But that’s just a small quibble. I always like how their soaps look, too—this one is a very attractive two-tone—light brown and off-white. I also like, as usual, that they don’t have any packaging. Jasmine Gardenia—that’d be a good name for a character in a story, as well.

Soap Review No. 198

Royal Pine Toilet Soap – Hotel Bar Soap

“Camping Trip 1974”

Coming up with these dumb little “taglines” or “subtitles” (above, in quotes) is sometimes the hang-up of these soap reviews—they have to be short and not totally off—otherwise, I can blather on and on. So, when one pops in my head, like this one, as soon as I opened the soap, I respect it. Even if I have no idea what it means. This little motel soap comes in a simple white wrapper with the name in an ancient font (looks hand printed) and coat-of-arms-looking logo with a crown and pine tree—all in green. The only other print is “Iowa Soap Company, Burlington, IA”—which my limit on searching turned up nothing. The little green bar has “Royal Pine” engraved in cursive. It looks like it could be older than me, easily, but still smells, I’m guessing, like it did when you opened it in whatever motorcourt motel you drove up to, hot running water, etc. I drank tea made from pine needles on a camping trip, slept in bed of soft pine. But the soap probably reminds me more of driving to Florida, or across country—those motels. It doesn’t really smell like pine (and certainly nothing like those nasty car air-fresheners, which came later) but like a motor hotel shower after a long day driving with low water pressure and a tiny scratchy towel and hard but clean sheets and your best sleep ever.

Soap Review No. 197

Good Soap – Cherry Blossom

“No Moon at All”

Always a solid option when you’re shopping at Whole Foods—this inexpensive “Good Soap” from Alaffia is usually near the checkout. The flavors I’ve tried have had good fragrances, the soap is gentle, and there’s no packaging whatsoever. This Cherry Blossom is the cutest one I’ve seen—it’s pink with irregular red flecks throughout—so it looks like nothing so much as an enticing cherry ice cream. I kind of wish it was, right now. The weird thing about this soap is that it has absolutely no fragrance! I was momentarily afraid I’d lost my sense of smell. But no. I have a lot of soap around that provides a control group. I looked at their website to see if they advertise it as being for those “No Fragrance” freaks—but no—they say, “a delicate spring floral”—so I guess they made a point of subtle scent. Maybe they are aware of people like me who are repulsed by aggressive cherry fragrance, so they went easy on the smell. Too easy! This one is too subtle—because no smell at all is simply no smell at all.

Soap Review No. 196

Lirio Dermatológico – Purifica tu piel

“Pale Poem”

Even if you lived forever in a time and place without fancypants soap options, you still wouldn’t have to settle on your Ivory and Dial—I bought this at the Cermak grocery in Milwaukee, and it cost next to nothing. There isn’t one snippet of English on the packaging, so I’m just guessing somewhat as to their claims: something like this soap is good for your skin. Lirio perhaps translates as lily, but either way, it’s the name of this soap—and it’s a lovely word. Ingredients often are beyond my comprehension anyway, but I believe in this case there’s something about glycerin—makes sense because this is a pale, clear, orange, glycerin soap—which means it feels good, and clean, and it likes your skin. The fragrance is subtle, but definitely there—it’s halfway odd and halfway enticing—if I had to guess, I’d say floral—seems to me. So, a slightly wilder and less wild guess: lily. And if nothing else, for sure, the fragrance is lirio.

Soap Review No. 195

Starlite Motel – Palmolive – Hotel Bar Soap

“Cornhusker Hwy”

The motel soap wrapper is dark green, and darker green, with white letters: PALMOLIVE—the soap brand getting more play than the motel. As I said before, only recently did it occur to me: palm oil, olive oil. Forever, I always thought it was “Pal Mo Live” (like Pal Joey, but it’s Mo, live on stage). No, I didn’t. The internet tells me the Starlite Motel may or may not still be there—it’s hard to say, for sure, because there’s no address on the soap wrapper. It does say: “Starlite Motel, Lincoln, Nebraska” and: “Room Phones, Air Conditioned, AAA, Television.” A very up-to-date place. There is/was a Starlite Motel on Cornhusker Hwy, in Lincoln, and there is/was still a motel there—hard to say if it’s the same one—but if I was driving through, that’s where I’d stay. The important detail is that it’s on National Route 6—which is a road that I’m obsessed with—I won’t go into it, except to say I’ve lived more or less on that road several times. My aunt and uncle’s motel, in Sandusky, Ohio was on Rt. 6—and I spent much of my childhood there. I can’t remember if they had Palmolive soap, similar to this one—gray-green, with a fragrance that doesn’t smell like anything these days. What does it bring back, for me? Relatives, neighbors, motels? I wish there was magic olfactory time machine—I mean, fragrance is that, to some degree—maybe I can hone that skill—then watch out.

Soap Review No. 194

Dr. Bronner’s – All-One Eucalyptus – Pure-Castile Bar Soap

“Countermoon”

I’m pretty sure I wrote about the peppermint version of this bar soap a-ways back—but at the risk of repeating myself, I’m not going to scroll back and read what I said. If you’re someone who, after reading everything on the Dr. Bronner’s packaging, wants to know more about Dr. Bronner’s… the internet was made for you. You can also spend a good day, if you like, reading about eucalyptus. Personally, I’m just exhausted from writing the name of this soap. But I wanted to specify that it’s the bar soap version. I’ve always been a fan of their liquid peppermint soap, but I haven’t had any in a while. Am I ever going to—on this site—write reviews of liquid soap? No, I am not. Am I going to try all nine or so flavors of their bar soap (listed on the package)? I’m not sure. It’s seems like you might want to just stop with the peppermint and move on—yet here I am with another version. Well, this is a fine, dependable, not very exciting (but that’s what you want sometimes) bar soap. It’s not a super strong version of eucalyptus, but it’s there. That fragrance is highly evocative to me—what it does, is take me back to when I lived in Portland, Oregon, a quarter-century back, and would sometimes go to my neighborhood wellness center, which I could afford only because I got the very generous neighborhood rate. There was a sauna and a couple of outdoor hot tubs on a deck—it was really nice. And the whole place smelled like eucalyptus.

Soap Review No. 193

Tanglewood Motel – Cashmere Bouquet – Hotel Bar Soap

“Summer Vacation”

Classic hotel soap wrapper, red with white letters, has a detailed (for how small) depiction of the Tanglewood Motel—it looks like a woodcut image. It’s long-gone, and since there’s not an exact address, near Covington, VA, I can’t look up what’s there—likely nothing as interesting as the motel! I found a postcard for it online, which boasted 12 units, tile shower, “Beauty Rest” mattresses, and meals served from 6:30 a.m. until midnight! It looks really good, with striped awnings over the doors and windows. I know nothing about this small town near the West Virginia border, but it looks somewhat stuck in time—forest all around—maybe some old stuff there—might be a place to stop if you’re driving through. Maybe you could find the oldest hotel still there, and it looks like there’s a few downhome breakfast spots. The soap is, again, Cashmere Bouquet, which is the soap inside several of these wrapped hotel bars that I bought—so I get to keep trying to figure out what nostalgic image of the past the soap’s fragrance most evokes. I still can’t nail it down—I don’t know if it’s from my parents’ house or relatives—maybe even traveling. It’s intense, though—a single grand-slam return to my entire childhood—1960 ’til 1978, say—and that’s a lot of memory. Better than drugs.

Soap Review No. 192

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