Boho Hemp – Hemp Bar

“Exfoliatin' USA”

This bar soap comes in an elaborate box with a die-cut marijuana leaf on each side and metallic green highlights—it's quite beautiful, and must cost more than the soap. Its full name is Boho Hemp – Hemp Bar – Eucalyptus Mint, with hemp seeds and hemp oil—and it also boasts: paraben free, gluten free, and vegan. I'm always a little suspicious when I look up a soap online and its primary source of sales is a different website than the manufacturer—but I guess that's business. The soap-maker's website doesn't offer much, but does give an address in Huntington Beach, California—a place that always makes me think of secret deals in shady warehouses—just because, you know, it's known for its surfing, and what do surfers do when they're not surfing? Shady deals. But anyway, regardless of the machinations that went down to get this soap in my hands, it's one that inspires confidence in bathing—my skin loves it and my skin doesn't lie. I am partial to the exfoliating soaps, and the more exfoliating the better—and you feel like this one could be used to sand fine furniture. I'm all for the physical benefits of the hemp oil and seed as well. Unconfirmed sources tell me that this one is a favorite of producer, Rick Rubin. The “eucalyptus mint” strikes me as an unnecessary afterthought, but if it's in there, fine—it's subtle. For those of you who are allergic to strong fragrance, this is your soap—I detect nothing beyond the very subtle scent of the primary ingredients. Okay, maybe there is some mint in there, but it's not overkill. Still, I can't help wondering if when I get to the center of this bar I'll find something hidden in there, like black market emeralds—it would be an ingenious smuggling device. If so, I'm all for it.

Soap Review No. 140

Moti – Luxury Bath Soap

“1971”

This is an incredibly cute, little, pink soap from India—“Moti” is its name—it could have several meanings, though one has to do with pearls, and there are what looks like pearls on the box, so we'll go with that. Of course, they might be fish eggs. Apparently it's from the company “Gulab”—though the box tells me it's made by the behemoth corporation, Unilever, the largest soap manufacturer in the world. Gulab jamun is a delicious Indian sweet, known by some Americans as “soggy donut.” The soap itself is a small pink disk with rounded edges and a six-petaled flower shape (perhaps called a “rosette”) cut into the middle, with the name “MOTI” engraved in the middle of that. I don't know, perhaps it's an acronym—try: M.O.re T.han meets the I. (eye). That's a stretch. It's a great soap to display in your guest bathroom (ha), visually, without spending a arm and an leg. My nickname for this soap is “1971” because its rather heady fragrance transported me back as if by magic time travel nostalgia carpet to when I was 11 years old, either in grade school or at a relative's house or both. It's a floral fragrance, but an exceedingly artificial one. It's hard to say why I associate it with a certain time period, but I do. All I have to do is take a big inhalation of it and I'm right there, in a grade school restroom, or at church, or in an office with elderly women presiding, or at my piano lesson. Maybe it's the piano lesson, after all—on Mrs. Patterson's ancient, conservatory, living room piano bench.

Soap Review No. 139

Swedish Dream – Sea Salt Soap

“Home is the Sailor”

This is one of my favorite soaps of all time based on how it makes my skin feel (which may have something to do with the sea salt, which gives it a rough texture) and the fragrance, which I love. It's much like the other Swedish Dream soap I reviewed, but better. As I said in that review, it's not from Sweden (in spite of all the Swedish print on the box) but Rhode Island (which is one of the more nautical states of the U.S., in spite of not being an island). It comes in an attractive blue and white box with an anchor on it. The soap is whiter than white and hockey-puck-shaped. Which reminds me—I don't think I've ever used a soap from Canada—or have I? Maybe that Maple one? Also, I don't think I've ever used a soap that's actually from Sweden—and I'm pretty fascinated by Sweden. I looked at the IKEA website, and didn't see any soap—only soap holders and soap dishes. Do they not sell a Swedish soap? Or is it hidden behind the lingonberries? I also noticed all kinds of warnings about delays in shipping, I guess because all these container ships are stuck at the docks with no one to unload them, or something. Are there job openings for longshoremen? Or “stevedores”—could I do that job? Do you get to carry a big, gnarly hook? Anyway, if I had a lot of money, and maybe a second bathroom, this is one of the soaps I would always have around. My favorite thing about this soap is its intense, heady smell. The box says it's: “sea salt essence fragrance”—is that true? Is that an actual thing? One must remember, too, that added fragrance is only part of the overall fragrance of soap—and all the ingredients work together to produce what you actually smell. Anyway, this is a good, elusive, yet strong fragrance—definitely the scent of the sea. Intoxicating, fresh, open, but also a bit frightening, suffocating, deadly. I guess the fragrance of this soap encapsulates, for me, the romance and the fear—the beguiling contradictions of the sea.

Soap Review No. 138

Abo Najdat & Znabiely

“Fragrant Carry-On”

I found this soap at Al Asalah Mediterranean market on Layton, out near the airport (Milwaukee), which a fine store—I wish it was in walking distance. A great place to find soap. I'd never seen this one before—very inexpensive, though I don't remember exactly—about the price of a tall, fancy coffee drink—and it's a bag of soap—four bars—so it's around $2 a bar, or less. The bag is pretty cute, too, with a little handle, and a clear window—I don't know what you'd use it for after the soap is gone—unless for more laurel scented soap. Four bars—so one hopes one likes it—but I do! It's good on my skin—I use it in the bath. A lovely laurel fragrance—pretty strong, which is okay with me, but it might be a bit much for you wimps. The bars are in the Aleppo olive oil soap style—compressed blocks, stamped with its name, I guess—can't read it. The bag has print in a language I can't read (perhaps Turkish) and English. “Features: specification made of olive-oil, laurel perfumes, alkalies.” Also: “Party no: 001 Made in Turkey.” There's a production date and a Turkish address and phone number. Also, a printed seal of approval that says 100% and has five stars—which inspires my confidence, 100%. I'm just kidding—I'm always a little cautious about new soap—I have to try it—but this one is excellent. I like the name, too. Abo Najdat & Znabiely—it would be a great name for a band. Though it probably is one. Or a stand up duo, big guy and little guy—you can't understand a thing they say, but they're funny. Or a law firm, with a downstairs office in a shopping center out on S. 76th—their slogan is “One call—and you're entering a world of pain.” Oh, one more thing—ever since I discovered that some of the olive oil soap actually floats, I now test all my soap for floating or sinking. Pretty much all soap sinks, of course—but I had hopes for this one. But it sinks. Which got me to thinking—maybe the floating is a function of both its olive oil density and its shape—since those Aleppo soaps are cubes. This one is not a cube, but a rectangle—so could that be part of the reason it sinks rather than floats? I'm going to research this, soon—though I'm afraid I might be getting into a subject area that's suspiciously akin to physics—which scares me a bit—physics—that's seriously a world of pain.

Soap Review No. 137

Olivia Care – Rose Himalayan Salt

“Miracle Salve”

This lovely pink, rose-scented bar soap from Olivia Care from Los Angeles came with three bars in the package—so they are reasonably sized—and it also gives you ample soap-time to figure out its multiple mysteries. Its full description says: “Rose Himalayan Salt oatmeal & rose geranium essential oil All Natural Exfoliating Bar Soap”—made with organic ingredients—and it promises to awaken the senses, and cleanse with pink clay, and so on. I've used pink Himalayan salt before (as salt) and it is fairly exciting (for salt). Pink Clay is supposedly good for your skin—and why not. The most intriguing ingredient is the Rose Geranium Oil, because, what is it? I've only researched to the extent of one online source, but there's plenty there. First of all, it's a geranium whose leaves smell like roses. Already, that sounds crazy to me. Its oil is purported to have the following properties: antioxidant, anti-aging, anti-inflammatory, antimicrobial, anitfungal, antiviral, preservative, analgesic, and anti-anxiety. It doesn't say it repels vampires and zombies, but why not add that, too? In short, good for you skin, and then some. There's also this: in a study, it had a strong impact on reducing the swelling in mice paws and ears. But even if your mouse/mice don't have swollen paws and ears—that's a good indication that it will also do who-knows-what-all good. That's quite a resume, and it smells nice, too.

Soap Review No. 136

Saponificio Varesino 1945 – Avocado

“Avo Dreams”

This is a hefty, rectangular bar of soap from Italian soap-maker Saponificio Varesino has been one of my favorites, recently. Does it contain any of my favorite food—avocado? I don't know—perhaps in essence, or oil, or in spirit. It does contain “micronized coconut shell” as an exfoliating agent. It gives the soap a nice texture. I wonder what other products have micronized, or powdered, coconut shell as an ingredient? It's got to be one of the least expensive substances on Earth, yet really good for lots of things—including some uses which haven't been discovered yet—but I'm just guessing. The color of this soap is particularly pleasant—kind of a light bluish green, with tiny brown specks (the coconut). I also really like the fragrance, which is a really lovely soapy smell I can't put my finger on. I'd guess it is to some degree floral, but I'm not sure—but whatever it is, I like it. I suppose there is nothing about this soap that would make me think of avocado if Avocado wasn't the name of it—not the color, or the fragrance—and ,of course, I've never washed with avocado. But there's something about this soap that's just right.

Soap Review No. 135

LovLab Natural Beauty – Flower Child

“Intriguing Alliance”

The name might suggest hippies it the park, maybe 1970, but the soap reminds me of something else—the fragrance recalls something I can't put my finger on. Which is one of the reasons I really love soap, I guess! It reminds me of something from the past, but I don't know what it is. This is a very lush and robust soap—it's both intense in feeling and fragrance. I suppose it's floral, but there are also other scents I can't place. Its description says: “Rose, Geranium, Bergamot, and Amber.” After I'm using it a while, the fragrance has both mellowed out and intensified. The color has also intensified—in three vivid bands, it's: clayish red, pleasant tan-brown, and a really deep burgundy. I prefer to take baths, so I can type these reviews on my old typewriter, resting on a board laid across the tub. I'm just kidding about typing in the bathtub. I do prefer baths, though. In the hot, hot weather I switch over to showers, and it's been pleasant seeing the shower hit this soap, and send an intense tri-color stream down the side of the white ceramic. Rose, Geranium, Bergamot, and Amber. That's quite a lineup. Roses alone might recall anything in the world, from ecstasy to sadness, from inspiration to death. Those four, though, together... watch out! If you put Rose, Geranium, Bergamot, and Amber in a room together you're likely to get anything from a murder mystery to a cure for all pain. Though more realistically, you might get a fleeting sensation, that's on the tip of your tongue, but might take a novel-length journey to (fail to) explain.

Soap Review No. 134

Alaffia – Authentic African Black Soap

“Soap Odyssey”

There's an old rule that says, anything that labels itself as “authentic,” isn't. I mean, think about it. Though, on my online dating profile, “Authentic” is my one word tagline. I'm just kidding—I hope that's obvious. If this soap was made by a giant chemical company that supports politicians who pass laws allowing the giant chemical companies to dump shit in our rivers, I'd be plenty suspicious—but it's made by Alaffia, whose beauty products can be found in many stores, and according to what I see online is a responsible, accountable, Fair Trade, environmentally sustainable, Black owned company. Most of the info I see comes from their website, sure, but I've yet to see anything negative, so it looks good. I've reviewed their soap before, and I regularly use their affordable, quality, body lotion, which I love. The ingredients in this soap are fine—and my skin has been super sensitive, lately (hot weather)—and it doesn't bother me. The fragrance is minimal, which doesn't excite me, but I know for a lot of people, that's essential. It's not as exciting as some other African black soap I've used, but it does look a little like that monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. An attractive, solid, worry-free soap.

Soap Review No. 133

Beauty from the Root – Coffee Overload

“Bath Café”

“Coffee” and “Overload” are two words that I've seldom found myself using in proximity to each other—I mean, I try not to go nuts, with the coffee consumption—but generally, it's been the more the better. And there are very few things I love more than coffee—and they tend to be the heavy-duty concepts—you know, peace, love, trees, soap, cats, and so forth. Of course, lately, it's been necessary to practice some degree of moderation—but fortunately not where soap is concerned! So, this union of two of my favorite things naturally found itself under some pressure to deliver—and it comes through splendidly. This is a fine handcrafted, natural, vegan, palm-free, paraben and synthetic free bar of soap, with Peruvian coffee grounds as an exfoliating element—and even a few decorative coffee beans on top. It's from local (to me, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin) beauty company Beauty from the Root—and was an easy choice for the first of their varieties for me to sample. Ingredients include cocoa butter and shea butter, and several oils, including coffee bean oil. It's great on your skin. There is enough coffee in this soap that it has a bold, natural coffee fragrance which I really love. I have recently cut way down on my coffee consumption—to a couple of cups a day—and I cut out my traditional evening cup of coffee. But since I usually take a bath in the evening, now I can enjoy the coffee soap, get a good night's sleep, and not go through the roof. I don't think I'll ever get to the point where I completely replace my intake of substances with, instead, satisfying, stimulating fragrances—but this is certainly a step in the right direction.

Soap Review No. 132

Claus Porto LIZE Morning Glory Bath Soap

“Realize”

Another soap from Portugal—quite by chance, it seems, I've purchased a lot of soap from Portugal, lately. Is Portugal the soap capital of the world? I've never heard that, but someplace has to be, right? I would have guessed... I guess I have no guess. Anyway, this enormous bar of pink-orange soap is the size and shape of a dinosaur egg. Actually, that's probably not true—I've never seen a dinosaur egg. I guess some have been found, fossilized, which would make them heavier, right? And also unhatchable, but still. Two feet long... so I was over-estimating. You could fit a dinosaur egg in your carry-on luggage, but I think the airlines frown on that—just because, why ask for trouble. This soap might be more the size of an ostrich egg, and after using it a month or so, a small ostrich egg (one would still suffice for an omlette). It also kind of resembles a football in shape and color, though an orangish football. And smaller. I guess closer to the inside of a healthy durian. Though it smells nothing like a durian, and in fact smells quite lovely. It's a luscious floral smell, like walking past flowers on a wet spring morning. Presumably, morning glories—which I know nothing about, really—the internet says it's the name for over a 1000 species of flowering plants—so that's not exactly nailing down the fragrance. The packaging (very pretty, a floral, presumably morning glory, pattern) says its aromatic composition is made in France. So I guess this soap is a European collaboration, in a sense. It also claims to be “milled” seven times, which is the same amount of times I get up, in the morning, in a week. Its full name is Claus Porto Sabonete Aromático LIZE Morning Glory Bath Soap. Some of that might be redundant, when translated, but I like the sound of it. I'd trust that guy with my personal matters. Don't drop it on your foot, do use it in the bath or shower, or even as a hand soap, and enjoy the fragrance, because it'll be around a lot longer than some pop stars.

Soap Review No. 131

Castelbel Porto – The Gentleman

“Randolph Scott”

Another 300 grams bar soap from Castelbel Porto, a Portuguese company that makes a lot of soap, apparently—from A to Z (literally) and beyond (not literally). This one comes in bold black and white striped packaging that evokes an old-west barber, perhaps, and says “manly” before you even smell it—also because it's subtitled: “Grooming Soap Bar.” And also because it's called “The Gentleman.” Referring to it as “Soap Bar” is significantly different than “bar soap” in that it implies more of a specialty item. The word “grooming” is also loaded—personally, cats come to mind, cleaning themselves. That's the good connotation; the more negative one is the idea of a person being “groomed” for a particular task—and for some reason, it's always sordid or evil. A person is “groomed” to be an assassin, but never a math teacher. “The” is also significant (rather than simply “Gentleman”)—“The Gentleman” implies a product that's intended for a unique, specialized use. For the discriminating soap dude, all of this might be quite a buildup. Me, I just warsh with it. I find it odd that fragrances sometimes have specific gender connected to them. Maybe that's kind of interesting in itself, but I'd never limit myself to exclusively “male” fragrances—how sad would that be! But it's hard to imagine this being a woman's favorite soap—but why not? Its fragrance profile is: “Bergamot, Lime & Patchouli.” I don't smell a lot of patchouli in there, but maybe it's in combination—anyway, the fragrance is not subtle, but I find it extremely pleasing. It really reminds me of something my dad used, though I'm not sure what that would be. Unfortunately, I can't recall any of his products beyond the usual Noxzema. At one point, when I was pretty young, some relatives got me an Old Spice gift set (which this reminds me of, a bit)—and I got to really like that fragrance—but later came to be repulsed by it, for some reason. I guess it would be interesting to revisit, at this point. I suppose there is a nostalgia factor involved with me liking this soap—that's undeniable. I know that many people tend not to trust nostalgia—but I'm okay with it. I wonder if men are more susceptible to nostalgia than women are? Oh, well. I guess this soap brought up a lot of unanswered questions. That's okay. Keep the questions coming!

Soap Review No. 130

Pacha Soap Co. – CBD Grounding Bar Soap

“Could Become Daily”

Just a few years ago, some people would have worried that washing with this soap would lead directly to heroin addiction. I suppose that some people still do. People believe a lot of things that might seem bizarre or crazy to some of us. It's been nice, during my lifetime, seeing changes in the acceptance of cannabis (as glacially slow as the changes are). Personally, I'm all for it—though I'm not a user of anything remotely mind-altering—in fact, I've even quit using sugar (which is something I think everyone could benefit from). Anyway, the use of CBD oil is quite a trend—and its controlled use has been shown to have many benefits (not going into it all). I'm not sure how much benefit it has in soap form, in as much as I don't (as much as I'm often tempted to) ingest my soap. So trying out this one had some scientific purpose—and I have nothing dramatic, though, however, only positive things to report. It was good on my skin, and each time I used it in the bath I took a little holiday in Peaceful Village. Of course, seeing how taking a bath and using soap that inspires me has much that same effect, it's not exactly been a controlled experiment. One thing is for certain—the aromatherapy quality of this soap is undeniable. It's made with cedarwood essential oil, and also bergamot, to be sure, but I could detect more—some of this might be the hemp seed oil, and certainly there is some patchouli in there. I have to say, I've enjoyed this soap as much as any I've used in the last year (can't remember back, olfactory-ly, before that). It's a little pricy (relatively, I mean—for an otherwise unemployed, humble, unpaid soap reviewer), but if my ship ever comes in, and manages to stay afloat, I may just always keep a bar of this around.

Soap Review No. 129

LovLab Natural Beauty – Night

“After Hours”

A delicious berry-scented soap from LovLab Natural Beauty that is gentle on your skin and long-lasting—that is, if you don't eat it first! Wait. Don't eat it... it's soap. I feel like I shouldn't have to point that out, but people get confused, especially while intoxicated, and this is an intoxicating fragrance, to be sure. I definitely don't bathe and drive. It started out as an organic-looking, hand-cut, pale-purple square, but as I've used it, it's transformed into a shimmering, slightly sparkly, deep purple, smaller square—that seems like it might conjure up who-knows-what, given the appropriate incantations. “Night” is a fitting name—did I mention when wet it's subtly-sparkly, and deep, deep purple. Depending on your age group, I might quote either: “Though you're gone, your love lives on when moonlight beams,” or : “with the Rolling truck Stones thing just outside...” The LovLab website lists: oils of palm, coconut, olive, castor, almond, and cocoa butter—and the fragrance a mixture of boysenberries, elderberries, strawberries, guava, and pomegranate. The last time I tasted boysenberry was in the form of pancake syrup, in one of those syrup Lazy-Susans at the IHOP. And the last time I had elderberry was in the form of wine—well, actually in the form of a song about wine (“cooked black-eyed peas me”). The mixture here works out nicely. It's fruity, berry-like, and delicious. Also, a “trace of soft vanilla”—and I appreciate going easy on it because, you know, a little vanilla goes a long way. Vanilla is best when it's like the scent left on a pillow by a dreamworld lover who's not going to text later on.

Soap Review No. 128

Shore Soap Co. – Coconut Bikini

“Coco Whatever”

This is a really lovely little square of bar soap from the relatively young company, Shore Soap Co., in Newport, RI—with ingredients including coconut oil (naturally), olive oil, shea butter, sea kelp extract—and excluding chemical-y bullshit. Oh, it also includes coconut shell powder, which I believe is what gives it this rich, pleasing texture. I love the smell—coconut, of course, and something else—I'm cheating by reading the description—there's (thankfully) subtle vanilla, and also musk—which is what might give it this kind of intoxicating, heady quality. If you should sail the old schooner into Newport you can stop by their shop and pick up the cargo yourself. This particular bar soap, its packaging, name (“Coconut Bikini”), and descriptive paragraph might evoke a kind of paradise to most humans, and why not. Me, personally, I'm a little weird, and immune to ad copy (and most humans)—so I usually compose my own ad copy—and did so in this case while in the bath that I shared with this dissolving little bit o' art. Something like: “...on any beach I feel safe, regardless of the foliage, is the one place where the big old sun is welcome. And just because I haven't touched a drop (of alcohol, not sun) in 27 years, doesn't mean I can't still remember the waves lapping, the piña colada girlfriend, and drinking rum from the coconut shell! Even if I forgot where I hid the cash.”

Soap Review No. 127

Asquith & Somerset – Woodland Shea

“Boromir”

Once more a big old (300 gram) white bar of soap—this one from English soap company Asquith & Somerset. This soap comes across as fancy, but it's reasonably priced. There's no point in buying the uninspired soap at the grocery store or chain drugstore when you can get much more fun soap for essentially the same price if you hunt a little bit. I probably bought this at TJ Maxx, which I know is a chain store, but as far as soap goes, you never know what bizarre brands they will have—all usually really inexpensive. It's kind of like a rolling soap garage sale. Of course, the very best place to buy soap is at locally owned stores, if you're lucky enough to have them around. There you might find anything. A&S specialize in fun packaging, and I'm all for that. This one has nice paper and a kind of cartoon drawing of some animal with big ears, wearing a scarf and earmuffs. I don't know what the animal is, exactly—perhaps a “Woodland Shea.” Likewise, I'm not sure what the fragrance is—perhaps woodland shea. This is another one that faded a bit, but I don't mind so much. After all, you don't want to wake up in the middle of the night and think Sean Bean is in your apartment. I used it in the bath, and my skin thanked me. I thanked my skin back by not smoking and drinking plenty of water. Wash, or don't wash, people, but stay hydrated!

Soap Review No. 126

Castelbel – Teakwood & Amber

“Ship's Cargo”

This was one of the big-ass (10.5 ounce) white bars of soap from Portuguese company Castelbel that comes in bulletproof-looking packaging with a little tag tied to it with the name—effective enough approach. It's got a decent lather, allegedly due to karité butter, and I used it in the bath with no ill effects, and it lasted forever. I found the fragrance to be manly, but not overly aggressively so. Really, quite a subtle scent, but it's there. With old-school male fragrance, you don't want it to be too cheap or dominant—you don't want to think that door-to-door salesman is still hiding in your bathroom. This one's okay. Maybe just okay, in that it hasn't given me flashbacks, or even aroused memories—aching, crushing, bitter, or sweet memories—no. Who knows about these things. It certainly gives it the old first day at college try, with the teakwood (you're on a boat that's being dragged through a forest) and amber (a can of worms—watch for my upcoming book and lecture series: “What the Fuck is Amber?”) The same way that a little can go a long way, sometimes a little too much restraint goes a little too far. But if you expect a home-run at every bat, you've probably come to the wrong sports-bar.

Soap Review No. 125

CST – Almond Scented Bar Soap

“Still Christmas”

Each variety of bar soap has an identity, which I usually introduce with the brand name, then a dash, then the particular flavor or variety. This one—which is essentially a Christmas gift bar—doesn't so much, as it's a bit anonymous. It's made by CST, which stands for Commonwealth Soap & Toiletries, a big (I'm assuming) company, located on the East Coast. You only discover that in the small print, as if they don't really care if you know or not. The important thing here is the packaging—it comes in a wrapper depicting a Christmas scene—a cute, little, retro camper in the snow with a Christmas tree and a snowman at either end. Then on top, there's a little, toy Christmas tree, on its side—so it looks like it's strapped to the top of the camper. When you mix 2-D and 3-D artwork like that, it kind of goes the extra mile, if you know what I mean. Charming. You can toss the little Christmas tree, or save it with your Christmas stuff. I set it on top of my wall clock, where it actually looks like it wants to be. Well, I'm glad there was something to relate about the packaging, because the soap, itself, isn't that striking. It's a medium sized, white bar, does what soap is supposed to do, and had a subtle almond scent for a while. The fragrance didn't last as long as the soap (of course, I extend soap life by using about 10 bars simultaneously) but that's okay. There's a sliver left (which now smells like “soap”), and it's springtime, and my Christmas lights are still up.

Soap Review No. 124

Nomarks – Oil Control Soap

“Mind Control”

I didn't expect much from this soap, in that the featured ingredients—Aloe Vera, Turmeric, Lemon, Neem—are all fine for your skin—but I assumed, the combination of, might smell citrusy, which is not my favorite. It's essentially an acne soap, I assume (“Oil Control”), and is from the Bajaj company in India, and cost under two dollars. What I didn't expect was to get totally obsessed with the fragrance, which caught me off-guard. Not that it's unusual or weird, but because it evokes something, and I can't put my finger on it. I will try again. It continues to cast an odd spell over me, yet I can't say why. The best way to experience it, as with a lot of soap, is to wash your hands with it, then cup your hands over your nose and mouth and take it in. Then the soap smell mixes with your skin and doesn't smell as harsh as just sniffing the bar itself. I've been doing this for months with this bar of soap, not wanting to use it up—because I find it so mysterious, and I'm afraid that I'll never be able to find it again. Though I do have pretty good soap record-keeping, so I know that I bought this one at India Food Mart on Drexel Ave., in Oak Creek—so maybe they will have more.

I'm not likely to ever figure out what the fragrance reminds me of. I honestly thought, for a while, that I'd just blown it out of proportion, and had a particular day—you know, the day when everything seems magical—broccoli is the best food you've ever tasted, crap coffee tastes like it came from the gods. But this soap has been consistently freaking me out with whatever its olfactory reference is. This reminds me of the problem I have, in general, with my powers of smell and taste reference and description. I'm not one of those people who can sip some particular coffee and say: “Bing cherries, saddle leather, and pigeon-coop.” I mean, I know what I like, but it's hard to explain why.

So... I'm at a loss with this soap to say anything other than it ignites the nostalgia centers of my brain. For that reason, one might not trust it—but nostalgia can be a very strong emotional trigger. I just wish I could figure out what—nostalgia for what. My only theory is that the fragrance producers in the West are constantly tinkering and updating fragrances of everything from toothpaste to laundry soap to bar soap to room deodorizers, etc. And over time, certain formulations of smell have passed by the wayside. But in India, some fragrances are utilized that might be very similar to what used to be produced in the USA five decades ago, but the times and current fashions have moved on, over here. India might be kind of a “time machine” for certain things like that. And so, maybe this soap is reminding me of a soap, or detergent, or that of a friend or relative, from my childhood. I've said similar things before—that smells like that take me back to the my childhood, or say the 1960s and 1970s—those things can evoke a very strong emotional response. This is the way we can legitimately time travel.

Soap Review No. 123

Good Soap – Apple Cider Vinegar

“Damn Good”

I've always been happy with the Whole Foods brand, “Good Soap” (from Alaffia)—when your big, colorful display is there by the checkout in the grocery store, you don't need packaging or additional advertising. I've tried a few—sometimes there's an oddball flavor, like this one—Apple Cider Vinegar. It smells just like apple cider vinegar—which is both satisfying (as it's the only soap I've used that smells like that), and a bit on-the-nose disappointing—but what did I expect? For it to smell like victory? Or teen spirit? Or the waning hours of a summer's day? It's the same exact pink as my bathroom tile, and there's little, darker pink, prickly texture, which is nice. A fine soap, all around. Words like fine, nice, and good, while positive, almost sound sarcastic, for some reason, and I don't mean it that way. I (heart) this soap. If I had any complaint, it would be about the name “Good”—just because I can't get out of my mind that it's akin with the “Generic” craze back whenever that was—remember the all white packaging with black letters—do they still do that anywhere? I wonder if they, back then (or now) had one that was “Soap.” That would be something to get ones hands on. Anyway, I just feel like they could have named the soap better—it's almost as if “Good” is the height of generic. If it was called “Soap,” that would he weird. “Great” would be worse than “Good.” Okay, I give up. That's why they pay those “creatives” so much dirty money to come up with that shit.

Soap Review No. 122

Pré de Provence – Tiare

“Polynesian Scandal”

I was particularly excited to find this soap because I had no idea what Tiare is. Regardless, I've been using it, and I'm sad to say that I'm not a fan of the fragrance. I love the Pré de Provence soaps, and this one is fine on my skin, has the little, rough, plant particles—but the color is an uninspired beige, and the fragrance is just kind of sickly-sweet and mildly pukey. I looked on the Pré de Provence website—they've been going hog-wild with their flavors lately—and oddly, this one is nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was an experiment that went wrong. But what is Tiare?

I looked in my dictionary (Merriam-Webster's Collegiate, Eleventh Edition)—oddly, not there—nothing between tiara and Tibetan! So then I looked on my google, and the first name that came up was Tiare Jennings, who, at the moment, is an awesome collegiate baseball player, with the Sooners. Which got me thinking—if there was a professional, women's baseball league, I'd watch that. Especially if the games were on TV (unlike our local team, the Brewers). So... I tried again, and I got to this Wikipedia page for the Gardenia taitensis, aka, Tahitian gardenia, or tiaré flower. Yay! Which is curious, because awhile back, I had some Gardenia scented soap, and it was my favorite ever fragrance—yet this one, I'm sorry... pukey.

Oh well. I also read that in some island traditions, a Tiaré flower worn on the left ear means “taken,” and on the right ear, “available”—I think I got that right. Better double-check before making any moves. Oh, and the weirdest thing, in Tonga, the plant's bark infusion is used to treat “ghost sickness.” So, of course, I looked up ghost sickness—and it turns out I have ALL THE SYMPTOMS! Except for one, that is—“loss of appetite”—so maybe I'm okay. Oh well, I guess I didn't get to the bottom of this soap. You probably can't find it anyway—but if you do, perhaps you'll allow the fragrance as presentable—we all have different preferences. And you might enjoy the mystery.

Soap Review No. 121