Soap Top Ten

Going back to June 2017, which honestly feels like decades ago, I started writing soap reviews in order to narrow down my favorites—I never intended to continue, indefinitely. I figured I would narrow down my choices to maybe half a dozen soaps that I would regularly buy. But as I continued to find soap that I liked more than the old favorites, I realized that the field is infinite—and why wouldn’t it be? So, it only makes sense to keep trying new ones. That said, there are some real favorites that I like to return to—and this gave me the idea of picking a “Soap Top Ten.” It should go without saying that if I pick a new top ten at some point in the future, it will no doubt be different.

Here is the countdown, Number 10 down to Number 1—along with a few words about each soap. Also, the review number, and the date of the original review on the “Soap Exotica” page of RSPEEN.COM.

Number 10 – Nomarks – Oil Control Soap

I’ve spent more time and effort on this soap—I mean, trying to figure out if I like it as much as I sometimes like it. I’m talking almost exclusively about fragrance, here. I went to great effort (well, traveled down to Oak Creek) to buy more of it, just to see. When I opened a new box, it offended me with its harsh, acrid presence, and I said, well, that’s that. A fluke. Yet, after it sat out awhile, one day I used it and was transported right back to the mystery-land of the past, wherever that is, and all that it evokes. So it’s back in the Top Ten. It’s an aloe vera, turmeric, lemon, and neem soap from the Bajaj company in India. Dirt cheap if you can find it. I re-read my original review (Number 123), from 3.20.21—it’s one of the more obsessive reviews. There’s no reason to repeat myself here. I wish I had figured something out—like which Aunt or Uncle or grade school or whatever it reminds me of—but I haven’t.

Number 9 – LovLab Natural Beauty – Sea Glass / Ocean Shores

Brought to me by friends from the far-off land of Tucson, at first I thought this was from space aliens—and even though it’s not, it’s a nice idea—and maybe someone out there knows where we can get space alien soap. Well, the closest thing to space is the world of the sea—and the scent here is called “Ocean Shores”—which I like quite a lot. I’ve had a few seashore-scent soaps, like some of the Swedish ones, and they’re all in this ballpark—a fragrance that’s hard to put your finger on—salty and fresh, maybe, but not necessarily fishy. The loveliest aspect of this soap, though, is that it’s one of the most strikingly visual I’ve used—with some really intense swirling colors that became even more intense as the soap diminished in size. Also, there were three red translucent dots (a later bar of the same soap had yellow) in which light shined all the way through. Or maybe—and I’d like to believe this—the light was coming, magically, from the inside. I mean, that’s a little scary, that thought. Anyway, I suppose each bar of this is somewhat unique, and the first I used was a good one, and delighted me every day for a while. This was originally soap review Number 96, from 5.16.20.

Number 8 – Pacha Soap Co. – Super Shrooms Bar Soap

I’m not the biggest fan of mushrooms, as a food—they’re okay, but kind of gross. Maybe I should reconsider, seeing how I like the idea of them so much—and since this was one of my favorite bar soaps—quite unexpected. This was soap Number 120, originally posted 2.13.21. If I didn’t care so much about trying a variety of brands, and I was made of money, I’d just go with Pacha most of the time—I’ve tried maybe ten of their varieties over the years and they were all stunning, fragrance-wise. They aren’t afraid to be bold. This one had a lovely four-tone tan composition—and for some reason, I’m really partial to tan soaps. The fragrance was pretty insane—I could never really get a handle on it, and it surprised me every time I used it. Deeply earthy, of course—but there was much more to it—several things going on at once. It might be hard to find—I’m not sure. I like that about Pacha soap—they make seasonal varieties, and not all of their soap is available all the time. I’m not sure when mushroom season is, though—personally, I guess, I’d put it in spring. But I can’t say if this one will ever come around again.

Number 7 – Barr-Co. Soap Shop – Willow

I used this this one back a few years ago—it was soap review Number 51, from 2.19.19. I have tried to find the soap since, but it’s all but disappeared. You can find plenty of other Barr-Co. soap—but there was something about this one—maybe it was an aberration—or maybe they just have something going on in the fragrance department. Their website is one of those with like a million different products—so you feel like it’s all run by robots. I believe this was a present from my brother, and I think it’s one you find somewhere like TJ Maxx—where, I’m guessing, they buy large quantities of stuff that didn’t sell—and offer it at a discount (maybe I should sell them my books). Anyway, I remember this soap like it was yesterday—it was one of the most surprising fragrances—just a really intoxicating floral scent. The packaging mentioned gardenia, and I believe I made a point of finding other gardenia soap—but nothing approximated this. More than anything, this soap evoked springtime—and what I like about springtime—the fresh, surprising smells. I don’t know what the name, “Willow” means—but it makes me think of the weeping willow, of course—which for me it the most magical tree.

Number 6 – Cloud Nine Soap Co. – Blossom Leaf + Bud

I bought this oddly fragranced bar of Cloud Nine soap at a craft fair near the end of 2019, didn’t use it until summer of 2020, and didn’t post the review (it was Number 111) until 11.7.20. It’s a local company (near Milwaukee), a wholesome, good for your skin soap—and long lasting—but not as long lasting as its fragrance/memory/mystery phenomenon—which is, in a sense, still going on. As best I can recall, it was heady and arresting. My original review is kind of over-the-top (I’m a bit calmer now), but it gets at the craziness the soap made me feel, trying to get a grip on its smell. It was one of those that initially intrigued me, later repulsed me, but then grew on me to the point of being in love with it, being obsessed with it, and being ultimately defeated by it. I feel like I can still smell it like it was yesterday. I am probably wrong. Anyway, at the time of the review, the Cloud Nine website no longer included the “Blossom Leaf + Bud” variety, and I just looked again—they still don’t. Maybe the FBI (Federal Bureau of Incense) got involved. Maybe it was just too much. Too real for civilians. Anyway, I will have to make a point to try another of this company’s soaps, and also, continue my lookout for the return of this one.

Number 5 – Caswell-Massey – Newport

I have tried maybe four Caswell-Massey soaps—which included Almond Cold Cream, Jockey Club, Number Six, and this one. I liked them all—and each, in their own way evoked rich guys from times past. Which might not always be the best association, but soap-wise, why not. Newport is the most nautical of the four—colored the deepest blue-green I’ve seen in a soap—the color of the sea, I suppose. The fragrance is extreme—not for everyone. I’ve never smelled anything that conjures up sailors, Rhode Island, rich guys, country clubs, lighthouses, etc. as much as this soap. Sure, it might be dated, but it was probably dated in 1950—this goes way back. My original review was Number 60, from 4.20.19—and admittedly a little goofy. Maybe the soap made me giddy, I don’t know. Anyway, the memory of it makes me think of the weather changing, smoking a pipe, and just all the good things about manly men without any of the bad.

Number 4 – Pacha Soap Co. – Pines & Needles

A seasonal soap from Pacha Soap Co. that I’ve used a couple of times in the past—it’s a pine tree themed soap, topped with little pine needles—and it has an intense fragrance. My original review was Number 68—posted: 7.21.19. It’s not that I’m the biggest fan of Christmas or “the holidays,” in general, but I do like winter, cold, snow, and pine trees. I like Christmas trees and decorations, and the music, and seeing family, of course. I suppose what I don’t like is the commercialization, and even that wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t shoved down your throat. I do like seasonal items like this soap—which quietly shows up every year, and you can buy it if you want to do a low-key holiday thing. Though… there’s nothing low-key about the fragrance, here—it will just about knock you over—but I like that in a soap, sometimes. And this one goes right along with the snow vacations and sweaters and that Vince Guaraldi music and strings of colored lights and eggnog. Or, if you’re not having all that—you might like this soap simply because of the intensity in which it evokes these trees that thrive at high altitudes and in the winter.

Number 3 – Eggwhite Soap – Eiwit Zeep – with Chamomile Flowers

At one time my favorite soap and a major obsession—around the time of my original review, which was Number 32, from 8.23.18—I’ve since calmed down and conceded to not remembering what the fragrance recalls. Something from childhood—I’ll leave it at that. It’s still one of my favorites, and the box is the best. You have to reuse it—I store precious stones in one—of course I don’t have too many (boxes) or I’d have to cash in those precious stones for my Belgium soap habit. I’m not even going to get into the mystery of why I had a white version of this, and now a yellow version—or the question of the similar soap from Sweden. And I do want to find a Swedish soap, I mean actually from Sweden. I mean, of course—from every country—but especially Sweden. But that’s why I’m not giving up after this “Top Ten” nonsense—it’ll be time to move on—time for further exploration.

Number 2 – Chandrika – Ayurvedic Soap

It was probably when I first tried Chandrika that I decided to start writing soap reviews—though it wasn’t until review Number 25, posted on 2.22.18, that I first wrote an excessive, nutty, but pretty fun, I think, review of this soap. I’m sure there are people reading this who have been using it forever—but somehow it never crossed my path. There are others who will not like this soap at all—and think my love for it is misguided. But I’m sticking to it—it’s pretty close to my favorite soap—and one I buy every so often. Sill trying to figure out what it evokes in my memory—the candy store, the bookmobile, Aunt Barney or Uncle Wilma—I’m just not sure. I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of the “two different presentations available” mystery—and I’m still not going to dwell on it. Lately, the little square box version has been easier to find. The bar is very, very small—doesn’t last that long—but it’s also dirt cheap—and if the soap affects you the way it affects me—you’re not going to be thinking about the price, anyway—but rather some distant galaxy.

Number 1 – Chami Soap – Laurel Soap

I have tried a number of these Aleppo olive oil soaps—I’m picking this one, though, because I’ve used it a couple of times and it’s excellent. The original review was Number 72, posted on 9.7.19. At first, the soap is a rough, brown and green cube, and as you use it (and it lasts forever), it becomes a lovely two-tone green square with an evocative, earthy fragrance. You can find it online for a lot of money—but if you’re lucky enough to have a Middle Eastern grocery in your town, you might be able buy it there—inexpensive—I think this one was under two dollars. Very good for your skin—almost entirely olive oil, with some laurel oil. You can watch documentary footage about how it’s made—an old process, really fascinating—it’s cut and stamped and stacked and aged. It’s one of the most popular soaps out there, and it’s my number one favorite at this point. The other weird thing—this soap floats—which is unexpected because it feels dense and heavy. I have no idea why—but one thing I’ve noticed, I’ve seen pictures of a similar soap on the internet where someone has cut it in half—and you can see how the aging process has dried the outside, but the middle is still green. Which made me think that has something to do with why it floats—but even after it’s worn down to a small version—it still floats. So… this soap has everything going for it, maybe even magic.

Duke Cannon Supply Co. – Big Ass Beer Soap – Fresh Squeezed IPA

“Hopsie Pike”

I like this soap, because it cracks me up—their image and marketing—but also just because sometimes I like a hefty, rectangular, bar of brown soap that doesn’t smell like too much but smells like something. The fragrance is so subtle, I couldn’t say what it is, but it’s pleasant. The box claims: “Fresh citrus and neroli with base notes of sandalwood and oakmoss.” I guess I can buy that. The color is more precisely “beige”—a fairly light shade of beige—a color that really appeals to me, for some reason. (The same color in pants is just so-so, but as soap it evokes something—not sure what it is.) My favorite part of this soap, though, is trying to make sense out of what their image is trying to achieve—judging by the soap itself, and also, the box, in bold red and white, with light blue highlights. They went the extra mile to render the made with: “Fresh Squeezed IPA” in metallic gold—so they must mean it. But what does it mean? They squeezed the beer like you’d squeeze a lemon, and added it to the soap vat? I guess you’ve got to be up on your beer lingo—a world which has sadly passed me by. The beer is allegedly from the Deschutes Brewery, which is a relatively old microbrewery in Bend, Oregon. The soap is then “crafted in Memphis”—and it’s distributed out of Minneapolis—so that covers a lot of hipster ground, I guess. The box also contains an odd bit of prose, too long to include here, that espouses cold showers, drinking beer, and long workdays—while oddly criticizing anyone working parttime, for their uncle, or at automobile dealerships—which includes most of us. To which I say, that’s some sassy talk coming from someone who composes dumb shit writing on soap boxes for a living.

Soap Review No. 155

La Florentina – Pomegranate

“Guest House”

Writing these soap reviews isn’t always a picnic, and I’d probably stop doing it if the pay wasn’t so good, but I need the money to support my habit of abusing dangerous, recreational drugs. For one thing, these little two- or three-word sub-titles, in quotes (this one being “Guest House”) are somewhat tedious to come up with. If you think about it, trying to sum something up in one to three words is very difficult—it’s almost like naming your band or kid, or coming up with a tagline for a product, or naming your new beer. People get paid a lot of money for that crap. And then things like this: This soap came in a rather large box (there were three bars, and I gave away two of them, nice gifts) but it was too big to put with my other soap boxes and wrappers (in the bathroom medicine cabinet) so now I’m looking all over for the dumb box so I can write about it. Apparently, I stored something in the box, but what? Maybe filled it with rare coins, or I’m storing my old masks in it. I don’t know. That’s the trouble with living in a palatial mansion, it gets hard to find stuff, sometimes—all these rooms, up the stairs, down the stairs—you’d think I’d get enough exercise just looking for stuff, going up and down the stairs. But no.

Oh, well, I’ll go by memory. It’s a pomegranate soap from Italy—they say “handmade” but I rarely believe that—apparently, if your employees do indeed have hands at the end of their arms, you can call something “handmade.” I also remember seeing some ingredients on the box that I would have needed to spend half the day looking up on the internet… but not finding the box has spared me of that. The soap is swell. It has a lovely, soft feel, very lush, and a pungent, intriguing fragrance which is quite nice. I’d guess it’s pomegranate, but I haven’t smelled a pomegranate in a while, so I don’t remember exactly. It used to be you’d have someone over and they’d always bring a pomegranate, which was always a lot of fun. I just ate kernels of corn for lunch, so it just occurred to me how much the little pomegranate things (are they called kernels?) resemble kernels of corn. I guess they’re all seeds. I mean, when you think about it, everything on Earth can be divided up as either seeds or pods. Anyway, the soap it off-white, not red, but it smells fruity and exotic. It’s Italian. And handmade. I love having it in my bathroom as a hand soap—it makes me feel like a rich guy living the good life. I love the shape of it—that kind of egg-shaped oval, very pleasing in the hands. And before you start the soap, and wear it down, you have to admire the intricate design details, the name carved in, and the company logo in bas-relief—it must take some real skill to render all this on the soap. You kind of don’t want to use it, even—it should be in the art museum. There needs to be more soap in the art museum.

Soap Review No. 154

Dr. Tusk – Siberian Cedarwood

“Pachydermatology”

Think for a while about elephants. When you’re a little kid, elephants are fascinating, but when you get to a certain age you don’t think about them anymore. People who get to a certain age stop thinking about a lot of things, like the solar system, dinosaurs, building forts, making art, horses, scientists, playing with dolls. I would say breakfast cereal and riding bikes, but those are adult activities now, for worse and better. I never stopped playing with dolls, so to speak. Anyway, growing out of some of those things is probably good, but growing up isn’t necessarily, and I’m thinking that we’d be a lot better off if we totally flipped the ages in which people were eligible for working in government—like maybe elected officials were grade school age, and maybe the President was age six until ten, and maybe the Judicial branch would be infants until age four. We might be better off. What would older people do then? I guess become “consultants,” write memoirs, go to large concerts and write comments under classic rock videos on YouTube. Me? I’d like to specialize in writing ridiculous reviews of bar soap that nobody cares about.

This soap seems to be on the up and up, though I’ve done no real research. Is there a “Dr. Tusk? (I mean, besides the touring pharmacist for the band, Phish.) “A portion” of the proceeds goes to the elephants. They use the sustainable palm oil, it’s vegan, and they don’t dissect living bunnies. Good luck fitting the entire name in a form of any kind, or even knowing how to title it—the following is on the box: Dr. Tusk, Hemp + Caffeine, Exfoliating Body Bar, Siberian Cedarwood, Charcoal, Natural Fragrance, Save the Elephants—and then it elaborates: Made with certified sustainable palm oil, caffeine and hemp seed oil, Charcoal Powder + Pumice + Carbon. It’s a black bar of soap with a really nice, subtle grit to it. Very good for bathing. It makes the water black—I guess that’s the charcoal (along with the dirt from your body). The fragrance is pleasant and slightly evokes nature—but isn’t really anything that sets off the nostalgia centers of my brain (though it may well yours). I would use this soap again. Not sure exactly what the caffeine adds to a bar soap, but you might not want to wash your kid’s mouth out with this one—and I’m sure people don’t do that anymore, anyway, right?

Soap Review No. 153

Patanjali – Aloe Vera Kanti

“Strong Enough”

I will eventually try every soap at my local Indian grocery stores—well, not really, because there are always—materializing from somewhere—soaps I’ve never seen before—so the task seems infinite—and technically, is—which is good. I was not too excited about this one, as the packaging is pretty uninspired—though, I have to say, there is a small picture of something that I don’t understand—but I’m neither going to research it nor try to describe it. Sometimes it’s nice to not know—and sometimes it’s nice to be fooled, like I was with the beguiling Nomarks. The soap bar is a deep green color, almost exactly the same color as Chandrika—but it doesn’t smell remotely like Chandrika (the sublimest of the sublime). It has a bit of an off-putting, masculine fragrance, which totally reminds me of Irish Spring (though I don’t have any of that around to compare with). It probably isn’t as offensive as I.S.—but it’s hard to get over that initial impression. And I don’t mean to imply that this (or I.S.) is that bad—this particular fragrance can be great when you’re in the mood for it—like a heated argument in a sports bar, or getting chased by a dog. When you’re in the mood for it.

Soap Review No. 152

Lorna Lu – Citron

“Lorna Who?”

This is one of those “lifestyle” products I don’t really understand the economics of—it’s from a company called K. Hall Studio—you can look at their website and understand very little more. I mean, is there a person named “Lorna Lu”—I mean, one connected to this company? (A side note, however: I did have another one of their soap brands, Barr-Co., and the fragrance was a killer.) You can manage to buy this soap for top-dollar online—or you can, like I did, find it somewhere like TJ Maxx for the price of a drugstore soap. It’s a fine soap, whiter than white, with a slight citrus fragrance. The most exciting thing about it, however, is the packaging—an attractive box shaped like one of those fast food “hot apple pie” boxes, decorated with a really cute citrus fruit slice design. Like I said before, for whatever reason, citrus soaps aren’t my favorite. Maybe someday I’ll find a spectacular one. As this bar has worn on, the fragrance hasn’t endeared me to it—maybe it’s all natural, and I’m just wanting more from a fragrance—even when it comes from a heinous chemical. Nothing heinous here—but also nothing to capture my imagination.

Soap Review No. 151

Himalaya – Honey & Cream Soap

“Dessert Dreams”

As I’ve said before, even if your soap budget is pathetic and miniscule, you don’t have to settle for that bullshit grocery store soap in 24-packs—and live a joyless soap existence. I mean, maybe you don’t use soap at all, in which case I respect that. But if you want to have a little fun, and not break into your kids’ drug money, this soap, or soap like this, is available at your local Indian grocery store—and this one, say, cost me $1.89. So, your town doesn’t have an Indian grocery store—go to the next town over—and enough with the excuses. Sure, there are some chemical-y bullshit ingredients in this one, but no worse than that grocery store soap. The ingredients also include: Glycerin (nice), Flavour (what-the-hell), milk and honey. It’s a nice, solid, long-lasting, pleasant smelling, effective, and fun bar of soap. It does smell like honey, too, though I’ve got to admit, the fragrance pales a bit next to this “Coconut & Honey” shampoo I happen to have right now, from Whole Foods, where they kind of hit a home run with the honey fragrance—so intense that it might be a little much for some people—in which case they’d love this soap. It strikes me a little weird, putting honey in soap and shampoo—though I guess not as weird as bacon, kohlrabi, and ranch dressing.

Soap Review No. 150

Locavore – No. 2 – Sandalwood & Patchouli

“Sandal-Time”

The name of this local soap is even longer than some of those from India. It’s from LüSa Organics, so I guess technically that’s the name, but Locavore is also the name, so anyway, the whole name is: LüSa Organics Dancin’ Fool Locavore Soap No. 2 – Sandalwood & Patchouli—which is a few more syllables than “Lux.” They are based in Viroqua, Wisconsin—somewhere I’d like to visit, haven’t yet—not exactly right around the corner, but the same state, and close enough for me to call local. So, this is my favorite soap lately and one of my favorites in quite a while. The ingredients are all quite aboveboard, many of them organic. It feels like a dream. The crucial thing here is the fragrance, which is a blend of patchouli, clove, and Australian sandalwood. As readers know, I have been become kind of a patchouli nut, I admit it, just can't get enough. I also love sandalwood. Now, I don't mean to criticize this soap at all, because I love it, but as far as the fragrance goes, the clove dominates a bit. And I love clove, too, so that should be perfect… except for, oddly, I have noticed that, as much as I love clove in food and cigarettes, it's not my favorite when it comes to soap. I’ve noticed the same thing with anise, in soap. Maybe it’s because the fragrance is too dominant. I suppose my top all time fragrances are things that I do not understand, or know what they are, or know why they smell the way they do, or affect me the way they affect me. So that's just me—and it’s not even a criticism of this soap, which is very fine. I will look forward to trying the other LüSa Organics products.

Soap Review No. 149

Rae Dunn – #1 Nurse – Flower Shop

“Exhausting”

I acquired this hefty, pleasant smelling bar of Rae Dunn soap from my cheap soap pusher secret source (TJ Maxx) without realizing I had already acquired another Rae Dunn soap—so I was hoping I liked it. I do. But to get to the bottom of this product has been exhausting. The full name is Rae Dunn #1 Nurse Flower Shop Scented Hand & Body Soap. Too much! The ingredients list is almost shorter—being pretty much all aboveboard stuff. The only real mystery there is “Parfum (Fragrance)”—as I’d like to know what the fragrance is. It is definitely floral—but what flower? An expert could tell—I cannot—even though I used to work at a flower shop. Deliveries, you know. This soap brings back those days. I’m thinking it almost reminds me of funeral flowers—which were, what? A lot of gladiolas—but were those the smelly ones? I don’t know. Maybe it’s appropriate, right? Nurse. Hospitals. But a nurse can be any caretaker, anything that is nurturing even. Unless it is “nursing” a beer—which is a usage I despise. I looked up Rae Dunn on the big computer—indeed, a person, a woman, seemingly primarily an artist, ceramics, sculpture, etc. So why the soap? It’s possible that the art here is merely the font—which is the indicator of a brand. Then sold via the Esty. It occurs to me that *I* could have a line of soap, and why not? Ray Speen Soap! Patchouli would be the place to start. Maybe there could be one that’s the most patchouli of all the patchouli soaps in the world. But where would we sell it? I tried having an Esty store, once—before I realized Etsy is so vast, it has reached global saturation—meaning that if every single person in the world simultaneously visited a different Esty shop, there would still be Esty shops neglected. How did this come to be? Maybe I could email Rae Dunn and ask her how to become a brand. One Ray/Rae to another. For some reason I don’t think my inbox would see satisfaction anytime soon. So, I’ll stick to the soap reviews. Lovely, soft, and floral—could possibly be evoking death—but that’s okay. Death is part of life.

Soap Review No. 148

Gentleman’s Hardware – Daily Grind

“Trigger Warning”

I was initially confused and thought the company name was “Daily Grind” and the flavor was “Exfoliating Scrub”—because of the packaging—but I guess the company is Gentleman’s Hardware. I checked out their website, and it’s one of those companies that—looking at their products—it doesn’t quite add up. I mean, they seem too small for how big they are and too big for how small they are, if that makes sense. Like, I can’t find this particular soap on their website, yet I see it on a site called “PB&J”—whatever! The weird thing there, though, is it says: “Scented soaps made form corrugated card.” What?

But I’m not going to get hung up on it. This is a nice bar soap—Basil & Neroli, Walnut Scrub—it’s off-white with brown flecks, so it looks like old-school Breyers. It feels nice, and the scent is subtle—so if that’s what you like, it’s for you. I would prefer more fragrance—especially when one of them is basil! I had some basil shampoo once that I flipped over. There is cardboard packaging that telegraphs “for the man,” but the soap certainly doesn’t come off that way, fragrance-wise. Inside the cardboard is a metal tin with raised letters that say “SOAP” and then the GH logo on the bottom. Then paper inside that, wrapping the soap—too much packaging, by ten—by the time you get to the soap you’re expecting something insane. I suppose the idea is you’ll re-use the metal box—it’s about the size of an Altoids tin, but deeper—perhaps as a travel box—no one keeps their soggy soap in a metal tin at home. I’m guessing, though, rather than soap, more people will use the box to store drugs. I wonder if all their products come in reusable containers?

Looking over their website—everything from tools to games to practical items—some cool looking stuff, actually—I notice they have a bourbon flavored cologne! Which gets me to thinking—why not just use bourbon (or rum or gin) as a cologne or aftershave? I could buy a nice bottle of something inspiring, which I can no longer drink, and then just splash it on my face after shaving. It would work! I’m just a bit worried, however, that that could be a serious slippery slope situation. He bought a bottle of Death’s Door Gin—splashed a little on before tea, what. Next thing you know, mate… do I need to continue?

Soap Review No. 147

OKAY Pure Naturals – Himalayan Pink Salt Natural Stone

“84 Charing Cross Road”

This isn’t technically a soap—but since I did take it in the bath with me, I’m including it here—after all, one could decline to use soap altogether and simply bathe with tap water and bath salts. I suppose you could also use this as a pumice stone. Anyway, it’s the heaviest thing I’ve taken in the bathtub since I dropped my iPhone 13 while checking my stock portfolio. It looks and feels like a little brick—I mean, that you could build houses with—though that would be a disaster in a rainy climate since water erodes it at an alarming rate. Which works out well in the bath, since it does make the water nice. I guess I’m putting some trust in this product—I mean, I know it’s not a toaster or a hair dryer, but is it really pink salt from the Himalayas? I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be—to be called Himalayan salt—it might well be from Ohio. It’s definitely pink. Anyway, the label says: Imported from Pakistan, but packaged in the USA—so take that as you will. It also says: “With 84 Minerals”—which is strange, since the ingredients simply list: “Sodium Chloride.” Does that mean there are 84 varieties of sodium chloride present? I looked online, but all I found was a website that didn’t exactly inspire confidence. I guess, if they wanted to, virtually anyone could make that claim. I might add that to my website. Self-starter, team player, all natural with 84 minerals. I’d hire that guy.

Soap Review No. 146

Fleur’s – Saffron Soap

“Golden Capsule”

Here is an intriguing soap, made in Pakistan—full name is Fleur’s by Hemani “Live Natural” Saffron Soap Glycerin Soap. The box is also overkill, with raised letters, including some gold ones, a very accurate photo representation of a pinch of saffron, and even a die-cut eight-sided rectangle to create a little viewing frame. This is glycerin soap, which is always pleasing to me, but not my favorite style. The ingredients are the usual combo of probably okay and unknowable chemically bullshit—but it’s the fragrance of this soap that makes it go right to the top of my list. I have no idea what the fragrance is. It’s certainly not saffron. Like I’ve said before—there is something weird going on in the fragrance department of some Indian (and in this case, Pakistani) soaps. My favorite cuisine is Indian and Pakistani—so I wonder if there is any relation there? I’m guessing this one might be similar to that Nomark’s soap I was so obsessed with, awhile back. I’d like to compare them. I keep thinking it must be something going way back—to my childhood, maybe, which would mean the early Sixties—but what could it be? I might never figure it out, but for as long as the bar of soap lasts, I’ll keep returning to it—I’ll wash my hands, smelling it wet, steam rising, then the fragrance on my hands, for as long as it lasts. Then I take a trip in the bar soap time machine.

Soap Review No. 145

Natural Solutions by Nicole – Pumpkin Soap

“All Season”

Pumpkin pie is my favorite of all pie—I don’t have to think twice. It’s weird that it’s considered a seasonal, holiday pie, since we can get canned pumpkin all year around—so I’d like to propose that pumpkin pie is fair game all year around! On the other hand, maybe part of what makes pumpkin pie special is that we only eat it during a couple of holidays a year—that’s kind of a charming deal. So… I guess I’m kind of on the fence on this issue! The reason this is on my mind is because of this fine pumpkin soap I’ve been using in my bath. It’s more intense and pumpkin-y even than the last pumpkin soap I tried—and like that one, I feel like I’m taking dessert with me into the tub! That might sound kind of gross, so I have to emphasize that this soap is delightful. It’s made by Natural Solutions by Nicole, in Hartland, WI, so it’s local. I bought it at Cedarburg Mercantile, in Cedarburg (while waiting for a seat at the pancake house—P.J. Piper’s—next door). It’s a nice little shop, full of handmade items, and they told me that profits there are put toward helping people with disabilities. The soap has healthy ingredients, and is also cute, with a pumpkin-colored part, and a little, molded, white, pumpkin shape on top, so as it has worn down, it looks kind of like an ice cream cone. Also, I do want to say, even if you want to save pumpkin pie for the holidays (or can’t eat pie at all, like me) this pumpkin soap seems appropriate for all seasons—including cinnamon, clove, ginger, nutmeg, etc.

Soap Review No. 144

Hunter & Grey – Tea Tree Men's Bar Soap

“Merry & Bright”

White, featureless, no discernible fragrance (some people love that), yet it has a nice soap feeling, almost a grittiness, so it makes an excellent hand soap. No tea tree oil in the ingredients, so perhaps it's “tea tree” in spirit? This is one of those companies that has virtually no internet presence—which is a mystery to me. Yet it's legit soap, and the package is spectacular—intended as a holiday gift item, no doubt. It's flat-black paper, covered with a variety of pine tree illustrations, some dusted with snow, some with a variety of Christmas decorations—with rich vivid colors, including some metallic gold. You can't even make out a repetition in the pattern—this is some spectacular paper. For a “tagline” I chose “Merry & Bright” because I'm fascinated with that expression—“Merry and Bright”—which seems to be synonymous with “happy holidays” or something—I know it comes from a song, but still, it always struck me as weird. Okay—also, I had decided to write these soap reviews including a fake celebrity endorsement—but now I'm jettisoning that feature—I mean, who am I fooling? If I was to attempt it here, I would have said this soap is a favorite of Ian Hunter, English musical genius behind Mott the Hoople, and Grey Gardens, Cleveland musical genius, multi-instrumentalist, artist, and friend to the cats. But like I said... okay. Next review will include no nonsense.

Soap Review No. 143

Rexona

“Vince Stone”

How satisfying to have a soap with only one name. Rexona. What does it mean? The king of green soap, is my guess. It's got a factory, molded look, and the greenest green this side of Irish Spring—and the weirdest thing—if I can trust my memory—is that it smells exactly like Irish Spring. Of course, I have no Irish Spring here to compare my bar of Rexona to—for color or fragrance—but there's no doubt—this Rexona has a strong—really strong—masculine fragrance. I personally like it quite a lot, but then I like living dangerously. The packaging is certainly confusing—it boasts: “100% Naturally Sourced Coconut and Olive Oils”—and there's a half coconut pouring what looks like some kind of liquor, martini olives, and coconut chunks into an echo pool—it looks like a cocktail made by misguided artificial intelligence. It occurs to me that it could actually be reconfigured Irish Spring—but that soap is made by Colgate-Palmolive, I believe, and this is from Unilever—though if someone told me those two companies were either in bed with each other, or one and the same, I would not be surprised. The package lists so many scary ingredients it might have been mixed up by the Manhattan Project. I might be hardcore, but I don't live so dangerously as to welcome this one regularly into my tub. Though, I suppose I do live dangerously enough to wake up in the middle of the night and think Lee Marvin might be using my bathroom.

Soap Review No. 142

Hand In Hand – Sea Salt Bar Soap – Mint & Eucalyptus

“No Problem”

This is a perfectly nice, all-purpose, hand or bath bar soap that won't make your skin melt off, and removes the dirt just fine. Unconfirmed sources indicate this may be the soap of choice of college quarterback Stetson Bennett IV. I think I got it at Whole Foods. It seems to be a good company who claims to donate a percentage to good causes. The fragrance is a little heady, but not strong enough to remind me of anything or give me a feeling about it. It could be the eucalyptus. The bar is white. There's a lot of info on the box—they kind of cover all the bases: “sustainable,” “natural soap,” “palm oil free,” “vegan,” “cruelty free,” “99% natural,” “fair trade ingredients,” and none of the following: “parabens, phthalates, SLS/SLES, BHT, EDTA, PEGS.” I would probably not be going out on a limb to assume that it does not include the blood of sacrificed virgins. Using this soap probably won't keep you up at night by causing unspecified anxiety. It's been my friend in the bath for a couple of months now, along with several other bars, and they all seem to get along fine.

Soap Review No. 141

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