Chami Soap – Laurel Soap

“Laurel Gray”

At first, this doesn't seem like soap at all, because it's such a rough-hewn, hard-edged, uneven, square brick, and it's even uneven in color—green, brown, tan, parts of it pretty light, and parts of it very dark (my “tagline” Laurel Gray doesn't refer to the color, but the character played by Gloria Grahame in In a Lonely Place (1950)). It's so brick-like you'd think you might pave a patio with it—certainly not use it to wash. Stamped on the top is the logo, which is a kind of heart-shaped indentation, and inside that, indented writing, Arabic, I guess, and then at the bottom of the heart, four small, very distinct stars. There are also four black stars on the simple, white, 2 ½ inch square, paper label, under where it says Chami Soap. Under that is says: Laurel Soap, then: Specification: 90% Olive's Oil – 7% Laurel's Oil – 3% Alkali. All caps in a box, then: Made in Syria, and under that, smaller: Syria – Aleppo – Rkak St – Manara Building. Then the date of the product and expiration, and that's it. There it is, right down to the building. This soap is the real thing, but it cost me like nothing, under $2, I believe, at the Holyland Grocery and Bakery on S. 27th and Ramsey. That's a great store. I'm not sure of the weight—it's not big, but it is a square shape, most efficient for soap wear. The other weird thing is that it floats—I don't know why, but it does. And it lasts forever—I started this bar months ago—and granted, I use 9 different bars of soap at a time—it's still going strong—a little, two-tone, green jewel, still soapy and full of fragrance.

Because of the civil war there that went on for years, when I think of Syria I think of bombs and destruction, but now maybe things are coming around? Aleppo is an old, old city, and must be one of the most interesting places in the world. Maybe some day everyone will be able to freely visit everywhere, and we'll all realize no matter what our problems, interests, or beliefs, we're all a bunch of hairless bugs, dropped into the horror and beauty of nature, here for just a moment, but each with the potential of individual reinvention and the creation of poetry. The only real enemies are those who want to amass all the resources while others go hungry—but no matter how much gold you have in your cave, I say at the moment I bathe with this soap I'm as rich as the richest person on Earth. I would love to visit the soap-makers. I'm going by what I read on the shaky-web, but this soap might be made by the old process, boiling the ingredients in a vat, then pouring it on a big floor, evened off to the thickness of the soap, and cut into squares after it cools and hardens. Then the squares are stamped with the logo, gathered up and stacked where they dry for months and months. Olive oil soap like this has a really nice texture, smooth and lush—I imagine it's very good for your skin. This particular one has an intense fragrance—not super strong, but very distinctive—part of it is the olive oil, and similar to all the olive oil soap I've used. But also there's a lovely, slightly floral smell, and I guess that must be the laurel oil. I really like it. This is just one of my favorite soaps, for sure, and if I ever end this quest to try all bar soap known to man and settle on a dozen or so in my house, I think this will be one. Using it seems to do something positive to my brain—I don't know if it's the fragrance (aromatherapy), or something in the soap itself (biological), or if there is something else—mystical, magical, even.

Soap Review No. 72