The Soap Shop – Honeysuckle Gardenia Soap

“Interstellar: The Soap”

I obtained a sample size of this soap, a gift from friends, which I then identified by pictures on The Soap Shop website—and my own nose. It's a cute little swirly green and white bar with a lovely floral fragrance. I'm writing a review here and now because it's small and won't last long—because I'm compelled to use it—and I just wrote about the other Soap Shop soap they gave me—much appreciated! By the way, I'm not mentioning the friends by name because they went out to Colorado and brought back a boatload of edibles—but also, for me, who does not partake, some soap! Actually... they didn't go out there for the weed, but rather for the beauty of the land, and they brought back art and soap and no weed—weirdos, huh? I'm still not naming them.

Should I move to Colorado? I remember a time, way back, before Coors beer was pasteurized, you couldn't get it east of the Mississippi, so people in Ohio would occasionally take an all-night road-trip, Interstate to St. Louis (or maybe even a pilgrimage all the way to the “colorful” state) and come back with a trunk-load of Coors “Banquet” beer. If you tell a young person—who has grown up with craft beers, maybe never sampling the swill that is Coors Light, but knowing the horror of the “Silver Bullet” advertising—if you tell them this story, they will laugh, and absolutely not believe you. Why would they?—it's absurd. But history is important, because when the government starts spending money to build gas chambers, yes, that might be a red flag. Not to get too grim, but anyway, should I move to Colorado? This company, The Soap Shop, is from Idaho Springs, Colorado—where's that? I looked it up—it's a tourist town up in the mountains west of Denver, exciting to me because it's on US Route 6 (have I told you about my Route 6 project yet?), which is also, there, US Route 40 (which I've spent a lot of time on), as well as the dreaded Interstate 70 (there are only so many mountain passes, so the routes often double up). If I moved there, I'd have to work in retail, I suppose—and could I even get a job in a little shop selling beads or whatnot? Could I deal with it? What do you hear in that town?—the gurgle of Clear Creek or the drone of the Interstate? Did the creek run with blood during the Gold Rush? Were the Native Americans who healed with the local hot spring waters screwed out of everything for the sake of Europeans who just wanted add a few years to their lives for some additional raping and pillaging before ascending to Heaven?

Sorry, I got off on a bit of a negative tack there—I mean, no reason to pick on a cute little Colorado town (I love towns that are named names of States that they aren't in, just because it confuses the terminally confused)—when really, our whole country is equally heinous and haunted, and so is the rest of the world. Which is why you need to occasionally make a point to block out the screaming horror of the past (doesn't mean you don't care) by taking a bath and getting lost in the transformation of fragrance. I truly believe smell equals interstellar travel. There is danger (certain brands of canned soup, when microwaved, can send you down the chute to Hell), but it's worth it, even if you escape for a mere 15 minutes. This soap immediately transported me, not sure where, but after a few journeys, I read something about it—their website (which has a lot of info, nice stuff to read, and positive messages, by the way) says it is fragrance oil of Honeysuckle and Gardenia I'm enjoying. Then I remembered one of my favorite soaps in the past couple of years—this one called Willow—which I read was scented with Gardenia—so now it's all coming together. What is this mysterious Gardenia? I will have to do more research. Where can I go to be around flowers? Is there a greenhouse, or have they all been taken over for growing marijuana? Could I get a job at a flower shop again? So many questions and possibilities have arisen—see, it's not just soap. Please don't limit yourself to that factory-made Walmart bullshit—it doesn't really even cost anymore to use interesting soap—and it might change your life.

Soap Review No. 79