Pacha Soap Co. – Super Shrooms Bar Soap

“This Island Earth”

I usually buy Pacha soap at the store, no packaging. Minimal packaging is nice, but the only way to do better than “no packaging,” I guess, would be to travel back in time and somehow reverse the insane packaging trend that happened, at some point. If any soap could send you back in time, it would be this one—not that it did that to me—I stayed in the same timezone, but traveled somewhere. Anyway, you have to look at their website for ingredients. It's a good website. It says this particular soap features: “adaptogenic reishi and chaga mushrooms with activated charcoal powder.” If that means anything to you, great, explain it to me over coffee. I trust them, and I'll just take the easy route and say, “shrooms” in a stoner voice.

Someone at that Pacha company has it going on with the fragrances, or else I've just gotten lucky (haven't tried them all, of course!), but this is another one that almost freaks me out, I like it so much. I can't say it smells like mushrooms, though maybe it does, but there's a lot of different mushrooms. It definitely has a really compelling earthy fragrance—that's my best attempt to describe it. It's that kind of “take your breath away” earthiness and intensity. Just about my favorite in quite a while. The color, too, is quite beautiful—it looks like an abstract desert painting, or layers of earth. Four shades of brown, one on top of the other—from dark brown to tan. Or maybe dessert as much as desert. I don't know if I'd go so far as to say I'd eat this soap, but I'd wear it, travel with it, exhibit it, get lost in it—I'll stop now before I start to sound weird.

Soap Review No. 120

Original Products Botanica – Go Away Evil Soap

“Pascal Lite”

This is a bar soap that's intended to remove evil and negativity, and comes from this place in the Bronx, New York, called Original Products Botanica that has been selling various spiritual, new age, and occult products for over half a century. The New York Times said it best: “A veritable home depot of spirituality.” Nice package, in red and black, with a “Devil” wearing a suit, and a crow. The soap itself is fine, no fragrance to speak of, which is probably appropriate. Their website says it best: “Stop evil dead in its tracks! This soap gets rid of all the evil around you from your enemies, the dead, demons, and other evil sources.” As far as I can tell, it works, too. Do I believe it? Sure, I believe in everything—which I think makes the most sense. To believe in “nothing” is still a belief, but you're just back to where you started. Or behind where you started. I figure you can apply a version of “Pascal's wager” to this soap. Even if it doesn't actually get rid of the evil, it cleans whatever body parts you apply it to. That's what we in the soap review racket call a “win-win” situation.

Soap Review No. 119

SoapRocklets – Turquoise

“Mechanical Shark”

This soap is a bizarre mystery right down to its name! It had no packaging other than being wrapped in cellophane, with the name “SoapRocklets” printed on it—packaging which I've since lost. So I'm only going by memory (and the picture I posted on Instagram (see my soap review IG for pictures of all these soaps)). It's an odd-shaped rectangle bar of soap that is turquoise at on one end, with a black stripe around the middle, and then clear glycerin soap at the other end. Through the clear part you can see some sparkly metallic, copper-colored object inside. So what it looks like is there is a half turquoise, half clear soap built around a sparkly rock, and sealed with a black band. As the soap wore away, I expected the rock to be exposed, but it never was. As it got smaller and smaller, there was less and less copper, as well—which led me to believe that it's all a magic trick—an optical illusion. Eventually, the turquoise part and the clear part separated, leaving me with a little turquoise soap that looks like a shark's tooth. It's all been very disturbing. But not bad! This is a fine soap! It's nice on your skin, and the smell is a pretty intense floral fragrance of some kind—one I love. I'm not sophisticated enough to name the floral source—but then I don't even know the name of the soap, for sure. All that not knowing never stopped me from enjoying this soap!

Soap Review No. 118

Himalaya Herbals – Moisturizing Almond

“What Everest”

I love almonds—I'm eating them right now—but I don't think of them as particularly oily. So, I don't know how many it takes to make almond oil—a few, I suppose. I also love almond fragrance, and almond soap—as long as it's subtle. Like fake vanilla, fake almond is one the puke-ier things around. This one is good—and subtle. Maybe too subtle—it's not very distinctive. This soap is from United Arab Emirates—which isn't exactly close to the Himalayas—nor similar in terrain, I don't think—but no matter. There are way too many ingredients, listed on the box, to discuss them all, but included are: Indian Madder Root Extract and Triticum Vulgare Germ Oil—which are at least awesome on paper. This was a fine, usable soap, and it also comes with Directions: “Wet body and face, apply generously and rinse.” I considered nothing else, but it's good to be reminded—lest you find yourself eating soap and bathing in almond chicken.

Soap Review No. 117

Badger – Shave Soap

“Close Shave”

If you're in Wisconsin (like I am) you might think this soap is local, given the name (knowing that this is the “Badger State”)—but no—it's from Gilsum, New Hampshire. I looked up that town, and it's in the middle of nowhere—I wouldn't mind being there myself, right now. I ended up using this as just “soap,” since I don't have a shaving brush, and I wasn't about about buy one. There are instructions for shaving on the back—maybe one day I'll do all that stuff—when my fancy-pants ship comes in. Anyway, it's a nice soap, beige, hockey-puck shaped, with a fine lather and subtle fragrance. Maybe too subtle. It's got some nice ingredients, including Bergamot, Cardamom, Sandalwood, Black Pepper, and more. But it's all but fragrance-free. The box is nice—it's got a cartoon badger in aviation garb, holding a spyglass and sextant. I guess there are badgers everywhere, not just Wisconsin, and everyone loves badgers. Actually, I have no idea where all the badgers live, nor do I know how people feel about anything. I'm guessing there's an infinite variety, but the ones with the two-tone, striped faces definitely look awesome.

Soap Review No. 116

Dudu-Osun – Black Soap

“Fruit Basket”

This is a fantastic bar soap, good on your skin, and I love the fragrance. I'm not sure how it compares with the other black soaps I've used, but it's right up there—it's high on my list, period. The full name is: Tropical Naturals Dudu-Osun Black Soap. It's from Ikeja, Lagos, Nigeria—the full mailing address is on the box, as is their phone number, if you want to give them a ring. It's says it's made “the traditional way by hand”—and here are some of the ingredients: “Pure Honey, Lime and Lemon Juice, Shea Butter, Osun (camwood—you knew that), Cocoa pod ash, Palm bunch ash.” And “no artificial colour”—which you want to hear, because the black color is intense, as are the gray suds it makes. The bar is a rough, weird texture—like you almost feel like you'll come across larger particles, but you don't—and you can almost see colors in the soap's shiny blackness, like jewels in deep space. What I like best is this soap's fragrance... and I have no idea what to compare it to. It's pretty heady, earthy, somewhat floral, and especially, fruity—I'd say “intoxicating,” but that might be too strong a word. No, okay. It's intoxicating.

Soap Review No. 115

Plantlife – Pumpkin Spice

“Tasty Trouble”

This a fine, natural, “aromatherapy” soap from the company, Plantlife—based in California, I guess. It has been a pleasure use in the bath. I made a point of starting it in October, and using it up through Thanksgiving—pumpkin season. It both looks and smells exactly like pumpkin pie—so much so, that I had a little mishap. I was enjoying some Thanksgiving leftovers in the bath; turkey sandwich, cranberry sauce, a Brandy Alexander cocktail, and a slice of pumpkin pie. Unfortunately, I had no whipped cream, so my pie and this soap were virtually indistinguishable—and I accidentally bathed with the pie!

There is nothing about that story that is true, including the menu. The soap does resemble pumpkin pie, or perhaps a pumpkin “dessert bar.” And the smell—they got it exactly. When I was a little kid, had my mom used this soap to wash out my mouth for swearing (you were allowed to do that, as a parent, back then), it wouldn't have worked. I'd have just eaten it! As it turned out, a mouthful of Ivory or Kirk's didn't do much to dissuade me from the foul language—I used to swear like a sailor! Had I pursued a nautical career, rather than opting for olfactory analyst, I would have had the cussing part down, at least. But I'm not complaining. I'm clean, my bathroom smells like candle shop, and once in awhile I get to spin a yarn.

Soap Review No. 114

Patchouli – Moisturizing Bath Bar

“Alien 7”

Weighing in at 12 ounces!—this was the largest bar of soap I've ever owned. (I have used larger ones, cat-sitting in the North Woods, where there was soap the size of a cinder-block.) It's a huge, white egg—I'm not sure if there are eggs in the animal kingdom this large—I guess ostrich eggs are bigger, and of course dinosaur eggs. The box is an impressive oval-shaped thing which resembles a small hat box. I'll have to find a use for it. This soap was kind of fun to use, being that large, though you wouldn't want to drop it on your foot—and a couple of times it slipped out of my hands and went flying! The patchouli fragrance was profound. I wasn't always a fan of patchouli; there was a time I found it a bit much, not unlike the some of the hippies who sported it. Now, though, I love it, which, I guess, means I'm a hippie. So be it.

I had one odd adventure with this soap. When it got down to maybe a fourth of its original size (which took awhile!), I was taking a bath, washing with it, and suddenly its fragrance was gone! I thought maybe I'd lost my sense of smell, instantly, at that point, but no... I could still smell other soaps. So, suddenly there was no fragrance! Then after a bit, the fragrance returned, but it was much more subtle. I suppose it was a matter of layers, as in the fragrance wasn't distributed equally throughout. Is that possible? If so, could you make a soap that, as it wears down, changes fragrances, and changes colors? Kind of like the “Everlasting Gobstopper.” That would be amazing. I bet there is a soap out there that does that—I'll have to keep an eye out for it.

Soap Review No. 113

Kirk's – Gentle Castile Soap

“Memory Implant”

Kirk's “Since 1839” 100% Premium Coconut Oil Gentle Castile Soap is one of the soaps from furthest back in my memory—it's one I'm sure my parents had in the house pretty regularly—and also, I don't remember anything from before 1839. I suppose they made soap with animal fat back then, and this Kirk must have seemed like a real hippie. When I was a kid, my impression of it was that it was hard-core—just because it didn't seem as wimpy as your Ivory and Dove. I didn't realize that is was actually gentler than those other soaps, less chemically, less weird—the ingredients being about as basic as you'll see from a mainstream product. When I was a little older, I'd treat myself to this soap occasionally—when I felt rich enough to actually buy soap. I could make one bar go about six months, unlike these madman days. My impression of Kirk's now has been altered by my considerable soap experience, and it does't do much for me, though it is as gentle as hell. It's also the whitest of the white soaps—it almost hurts your eyes. The fragrance couldn't be less distinctive—it's not quite “fragrance free” (though they do make one FF, if you're really going for it)—but the original scent—what does it (barely) remind me of? Not even soap, really—maybe it subtly recalls a far-off notion of cleanliness, from some time long ago, and from a place that no longer is a reality, called home.

Soap Review No. 112

Cloud Nine Soap Co. – Blossom Leaf + Bud

“The Winner”

This is quality, handmade soap from a local company—I bought it at a craft fair—intrigued by its heady fragrance. It's a simple, roughhewn rectangle, kind of tan-beige. I have been stingy with it, trying to make it last until I figure out what it smells like, or whatever in the world it makes me think of. I've considered putting the (now small bar) under my pillow while I sleep to see what my dreams tell me. It's called “Cloud Nine” after all. What Blossom Leaf + Bud means, I have no idea, but I like that name. I just looked at their website again, and I don't see it. Was it discontinued? When something disappears like that you wonder if it's because it was unpopular, or too popular, and sold out.

After being initially intrigued by the fragrance, for a while I was repulsed by it. It's intense and strange. Then it started growing on me, more and more, each day—out of control. Now, I'm obsessed with it. I want to figure it out, but I'm still unable to! I believe that it is floral, to some degree, but I'm not even sure about that. I don't recall ever smelling a flower or plant that smells like this soap. I bet it's too much for a lot of people. I bet, for some people, it sends them to a bad place. Maybe I'm wrong. Not me. I'm addicted to it. Maybe it's the smell of addiction. Does addiction have a smell, the way wealth and love do? No, they don't! It's making me crazy. It inspires me. It excites me. It's just plain weird. It transports me somewhere, but I don't know where. Maybe Oz, or Xanadu, or Shangri-La, or Wonderland, or Paradise Island, or El Dorado, or Springfield, Ohio! I don't know! I give up! The soap has won!

Soap Review No. 111

Alchimia Soap – Floral Bouquet (Bouquet di Flori Sapone Vegetale)

“Victorian Cluster”

It says: “Vegetable Soap Handmade in Italy” on the packaging, along with images of flowers, and a yellow ribbon, and some costume jewelry—a cluster of nine diamonds! That sold me. I know I say this a lot, but this is the extreme version of grandmother's powder room soap. I would bet more of these sit idle than actually get used. That would be too bad, because I found the fragrance to be lovely. It's a big white bar, with good lather—does it dry my skin? Who knows. I felt like it was fine. I know some people would be put off by its intense floral fragrance—I mean, it just about knocks you over—but for me, there's a time and place for that—and I found it cheered me up—perhaps, again, sinking into the deep childhood nostalgia when I visited elderly relatives. There's a fine line between loving and cloying—and I suppose this soap rides that line. Also, I wouldn't necessarily assume those diamonds are fake—there's a good chance that jewel smugglers used the diabolical scheme of decorating innocuous soap packaging with actual, fine, cut gems in order to smuggle them into the country—hidden in plain sight! It was a brilliant scheme. What they didn't count on was some weird guy reviewing over 100 brands of soap for a website—not content with the five options at the drugstore. Now, I will use this immense landfall to buy more soap to review... more and more... until I can no longer bathe.

Soap Review No. 110

Nirmal – Aritha Shampoo Soap

“Aunt Damyanti”

This is a small shampoo bar soap from India—it comes in an attractive box and costs almost nothing. You don't have to use it as shampoo—you can use it as hand soap if you like—there's no soap police that are going to swoop down. I tried it as shampoo, a bit, though. It didn't make my hair thick and silky, and exactly like the woman in the picture on the box—had it, we'd have to “report the miracle.” The ingredients are as follows: “Soap Noodles, EDTA,TiO2, Perfume, Filler, Colour, Aritha Ext.”—which, while perhaps could be considered some form of poetry, tells me absolutely nothing about the makeup of this soap. On the box, besides the amazing-hair woman, are three little brown things. If one was to guess, out of context: apricot pits, bonbons, buckeyes, Milk Duds, meteorites? No. What they are, are soap nuts, the source of Aritha powder, which is the essence of this shampoo soap.

The soap is a kind of unnatural bright orange color, that mildly says “industrial.” The fragrance is harsh, intense, perfume-y, and not entirely pleasant, but also, to some degree, nostalgic—it reminds me of something—I can't place it! I would like to figure it out—it's a strong association. I want to say “public restroom”—but that sounds gross, and it's not gross. Okay, I know some people wouldn't like it, the smell, but I like it. I think it's been growing on me, too, as the smell-memory deepens. Can nostalgic memory build that way? I wonder if one of my relatives, as a kid, had perfume that smelled kind of like this soap (or soap that smelled like it, or rooms that smelled like this, in their houses)? I wish you could get out old smells and sit around and reminisce with them, the way you do with old photographs. That would be something. I could directly compare those old smells (I might have hundreds!) with soap, and then we'd be able to nail it. As it is, though, I just have to make an assessment—and I say, Yes!—and let its mystery reign.

Soap Review No. 109

Asquith & Somerset – Spiced Orange

“Sad Cocktail”

Another big-ass, 300 gram bar of soap for grandma's powder room, designed in England, made in Portugal, and bought and used in the USA. The packaging is pretty striking, bold colors, dark greens and deep orange, with images of cutaway oranges, and metallic gold print. The initial fragrance is not real exciting to me—I mean, it smells exactly like what it claims to be: spiced orange. I guess I'm just not that into citrus scented soaps, and I should know this by now, but you're always hoping this is going to be the one. Yes, you're always hoping this is going to be the one. Will this be the one? You hope, you pray, or maybe you don't pray, but will this, will this, will this be the one? And the answer is always no. Always no. Whenever you find yourself asking, will this be the one?—you know you're already sunk. This is a fine, large, white, fragrant, lathery bath or hand soap. But the fragrance, at least for me, doesn't work. I'm able to use it, but it's never going to make me too happy. I'm someone who will combine all kinds of stuff that other people find inedible or gross, but there are some taste and fragrance combinations that go together like canned soup and the employee lunchroom. Not fatal, but... you know what I'm talking about.

Soap Review No. 108

Sunrise Showers – Bandits

“Tomb Raider”

I think this is the second variety from local soap company, Sunrise Showers, I have tried. On the packaging—along with the goat and the duck—there's a picture of a masked, Western “Bandit”—and I'm always amused by how bandits and pirates are considered romantic, even though they're criminals and terrorists. But what really got my attention is a fairly long (for a small soap wrapper) paragraph about how the essential oils in this soap are inspired by the secret formula used by the “4 Bandits” in the 15th Century for warding off the “decimating plague” that they might otherwise contract from corpses while robbing graves! That's just one of the weirder sales pitches I've heard in a while. Of course, the bottom line is the ingredients, among them: clove, cinnamon, eucalyptus, lemon, rosemary, madder root, and sea salt joining the oils of argan, avocado, castor, olive, and coconut, as well as colloidal oatmeal, shea butter, and goat milk. All of that someone has worked into a roughhewn, little bar—tan, with irregular streaks of reddish-brown. It's a fine soap, with good lather, and just the best fragrance. I wish... I wish... I wish I could have this one around all the time. (Sneak a bar of it into my coffin!) It reminds me somewhat of my bay rum aftershave, and also, you know, those grave robbers.

Soap Review No. 107

Chandrika – Sandal Soap

“This & That”

This particular version of Chandrika furthers the Chandrika mystery. (Because there are several similar but different soaps with the Chandrika name.) It's tan, light brown, not green, but smells like Chandrika, but also sandalwood. The bar looks like the green Chandrika oval bar, but tan-brown. The smell is pretty sandalwood, classic sandalwood, but also a bit like Chandrika. I think it is really a combination of the two. That means a combination of two good soap types. The ingredients on the box are no help—it's not actually an ingredient list. Free from animal fat, at least. Look, I could spend the rest of today on the internet and solve nothing. I could spend the rest of my life chasing after the mystery of this soap. I could travel to India, and solve even less, because India is big place, and you'd need an expert to track this stuff down, and when it comes to experts, there are experts and there are experts. I'm just going to go by bathing with it for the time it took to dwindle. This is a good soap. It's probably not as intensely sandal as some other sandal soaps I've had, and it's not as Chandrika as the two varieties of Chandrika I've had (all of which are some of my favorites)—so maybe it's a bit of a compromise—but in itself, this is a fine soap, and inexpensive—you can't go wrong here.

Soap Review No. 106

No. 1 – Coconut and Neem Beauty Soap

“No. 67”

This is an inexpensive bar soap from the company, Godrej, which you might be able to find at your local Indian grocery store—it's pretty common, and not very exciting—but I like it infinitely better than any of the major giant company soaps at the supermarket or big chain drugstores. The package says “No. 1”—which means, “No. 1.” There is a picture of a split open coconut on the package, which just makes me want to eat coconut. There are also some pictures of leaves, which I assume are depictions of “Azadirachta Indica” (Neem) (Indian Lilac) which has medicinal qualities, for skin, and you name it. The ingredients also list Tulsi. The oval bar has a kind of boring green color, almost blue-green, and its fragrance is a little harsh, maybe kind of institutional, whatever that means. It's pleasant enough, as soap, but not very interesting or inspiring, or recalling of anything else. Just Soap. If this was the only soap I was allowed to use, I'd be happier soap-wise than 99 percent of the world—there's nothing to complain about. But alas, in the last 3 or 4 years I've tried out over a 100 bars of soap. It's impossible, really to rank them. There are about 10 that could easily be considered No. 1—but this isn't one of them. I could say, okay, I'll put this at No. 67—though that's admittedly a bit arbitrary. If they changed the name to No. 67—it would be the same soap—probably not sell as well—but I'd give them some points for sense of humor.

Soap Review No. 105

Pré de Provence – Violette

“Second Dessert”

This is another wacky variety from Pré de Provence—I'd really like to try them all, but it seems like they just keep making new ones, and I'm only one man. The color is a pretty, tasteful, almost subtle, kind of earth-tone purple. Isn't purple the craziest of all colors? I mean, in that there are some that are gross and off-putting, and some are compelling and beautiful. Very seldom are any just blah, though, like quite a lot of blues. It's got an insane fragrance—you almost get drunk just smelling it! Intense. And hard to put my finger on. I'd say it's the essence of violets, the flower, but that's a little too easy—and maybe I can't trust myself, since the power of suggestion is at work here. Let me try again. I just can't put my finger on it—it's the most intense smelling soap I've come across in awhile. Now, actually, I don't think it smells like violets, the flower—it's hard to say for sure, though, as I don't have any violets around to compare. I really think it smells like something you could eat. Smelling it again, I do believe it smells like some kind of baked good—maybe a birthday cake! Or maybe a soft drink of some kind. It definitely reminds me of when I lived near the Kool-Aid factory somewhere, can't remember where—and when you'd walk by it, you'd just taste the flavor in the air.

Soap Review No. 104

Swedish Dream – Seaweed Soap

“The Sea + Weed”

This soap comes in a really cute box with a lovely shade of blue, a white seahorse, and a fisherman highlighted in red—it makes you think of nostalgic children's books. The soap itself is an off-white hockey-puck with a seahorse engraved. There are enough non-English words to make you think it comes from Sweden, even though it's from Cranston, RI—which is at least near the sea, and I'm sure a lovely place to live. Everything about this says “yuppie soap”—but even so, it was really nice on my skin (it claims to contain marine algae for that purpose). Also, they just really scored with the fragrance—it's like in my top ten—I can't get enough. Among the mind-numbing chemically ingredient names, I see: “sea lily fragrance”—maybe that's it. Anyway, I keep going back to try to figure out why it makes me think of the sea, when I smell it. What does the sea smell like, anyway? Yet, it's undeniably evocative, and nothing else will come to mind, but... the sea. It could be all suggestion. The seahorse, after all. Sweden. Maybe it's all in my mind. But isn't the sense of smell, which happens in the brain, ultimately, “all in the mind?” Maybe I'm overthinking things. But what is it with The Sea? Shouldn't we fear the Earth's large bodies of water, particularly the saltwater ones—you can't drink it, we can't live in it, and there's only so long we can live on top of it—shouldn't “The Sea” be the horror of all horrors? Yet we have these fond, loving feelings about it. I guess there's a part of us that knows—that's where we came from, and that's where we're going back to, ultimately.

Soap Review No. 103

Shea Moisture – Dragon's Blood and Coffee Cherry

“Magic Brick”

This should have been my favorite soap—everything is good about it, from the fragrance, to the color, to the ingredients, to the feeling on the skin—but there was one element missing, and that is the ephemeral feeling evoked from fragrance. It didn't put me in a time machine or on a virtual journey, like some soap does. I guess I just have to admit that, when it comes down to it, fragrance is the most important element to me. Maybe I should test and write about perfume and cologne instead of soap—and maybe I will, once I either start making money at this or am able to get free samples. Anyway, the full name of this soap is Shea Moisture (Established 1912) Dragon's Blood & Coffee Cherry Shea Butter Soap, with Black Currant & Borage Oils. I don't know if it's really a company that old (there is a little history on the package, founded by a woman from Sierra Leone), and I don't know how much of each of those ingredients are in the soap, but it was a dense, deep red, kind of earth-tone—like red clay, with tiny black texture dots, which function as an exfoliant. The fragrance is subtle and slightly fruity. Dragon's Blood is a plant resin—and I'm not sure exactly of its source, and function here, besides the color—but if you want to believe it's actual blood from actual dragons, I'm not going to try to persuade you to think otherwise. Who am I to say something doesn't exist, even dragons?

Soap Review No. 102

Maine Beach – Organic Macadamia

“Nut Monument”

I'm a little wary of nut flavored soaps because I had one once that kind of bugged me after awhile. Which is to say, repulsed me, I guess. I know it's not fair to judge other soaps by that, and really, this one is okay. Actually, this one is pretty intense! Hard to put my finger on. Kind of exciting. Could be a nutty smell (or is that just my imagination?) It reminds me a little of laundry soap, which is to say, Tide. It smells a bit sweet, actually, and kind of fruity, too, and a little sour. It just occurred to me—I'm describing vomit. This soap doesn't smell like vomit—far from it! But it also doesn't inspire nostalgia, or take me to another place, or remind of me of being in love. Sorry to say. It's a giant, off-white soap though, and would sit very well in an upper-middle-class, suburban, McMansion half-bath. The real star here, though, is the box—which is heavy, grey cardboard with intricate silver decorations and lettering. There is even a fabric pull-tab, and a drawer slides out—it's elaborate and sturdy. I've had less substantial furniture. It's big, too, and besides storing shit, you might even find it to be an acceptable coffin for a pet rodent, or even a very small dog.

Soap Review No. 101