One With Nature – Lilac – Dead Sea Mineral Soap

“Death Butter”

Maybe I’m just in a bad mood, but I’m getting tired of all he words in the names of soap—this one is: One With Nature – Lilac – Dead Sea Mineral Soap – Argan Oil & Shea Butter. Too much! I think it should be new rule that all soap must have a one or two word name—like my subtitle above—“Death Butter”—that’s got a ring! But now that I look at the ingredients, I’m in a much better mood—great ingredients! I mean, shea butter is always good, as is glycerin and argan oil—and I’ll take their word for it that dead sea salt is something positive for the skin. I kind of want to change that nickname—but coming up with the little “tagline” is the hardest part of writing these reviews (I mean, none of it is hard, but you know…). This soap has a really lovely light purple color, a luscious feel, and nice, subtle lilac fragrance—which is good, because lilac is one of those smells that when concentrated can be a little gross. For an average size bar of soap, it sure has a lot of minerals, “21” so they say. I suppose it could potentially list all 21 minerals as part of the name of the soap—so I guess I’m admiring their restraint, here. It’s barely purple, doesn’t glow in the dark, doesn’t smell like a funeral—restraint all around.

Soap Review No. 171

Commonwealth Soap Co. – Honey Almond

“What’s Inside?”

I realize that I sometimes repeat the same things over and over when writing soap reviews—but there’s only so much to say about soap… and I don’t regularly go back and reread what I’ve written. Anyway, this is one of those big monster soaps in the shape of a little wooden box so you feel like you should be able to open it. It’s got little ridges around the edges and the name engraved, so you imagine this soap, once pristine, being comfortable in a big suburban house powder room—not really intended for use! Interesting—this one came in a little net bag—called an “exfoliating pouch”—intended, I guess, so you can scrub yourself with the soap while in the bag. Then you can hang the soap, still in the bag, to dry. Nice idea, and I tried to use it that way, but I found it a little gross. I can’t do it. I like the idea—in that the bag is on a string, so you can hang it off the shower nozzle like it’s a soap-on-a-rope—but there’s something about the soap being in that bag that’s weird. So, I’m just using it as a regular soap. It’s big, soft, and white, and it has a subtle suburban powder room fragrance—not smelling much like either honey or almond—but that’s okay, because both of those can be overwhelming if they’re too intense. This is more grandma soap, but I’m all for it.

Soap Review No. 170

Hamam – Neem – Tulsi & Aloe Vera

“Greem”

This is the greenest of the green soaps—so green I invented a new word to better describe it (“greem”—meaning, really green). I know I must have said this before, but I had a serious rash-type reaction waaaaay back—we’re talking 41 years ago! Could that be? Time to get over it, ha. But I had to go to the ER, even, and so I still worry about skin products (the doctor said no way to know why—but could be soap). At the time, I was using roommates’ green soap, so I’ve since always been a little wary of green soap. I know this is ridiculous. This soap includes neem, so it should be particularly okay for your skin. On the other hand, it’s Unilever, a huge chemically company, so I didn’t know. But then, it’s Unilver India, so… for what that’s worth. The only thing is to try it, and it is good—it also has tulsi and aloe vera—it’s all about your skin. The color does kind of freak me out, though. It is greener than green. Also, the fragrance, which is actually quite alluring, is very very strong—no mistaking it. Soap. Strong. So that makes me hesitate a bit, I’ll admit. The package, which is even more green than the soap, has a picture of a drop of golden NEEM oil coming from a leaf, dripping into The Time Tunnel (c. 1966, from “The Master of Disaster”).

Soap Review No. 169

Tahitian Volcanic Black Sand – Aloe + Clover Exfoliating Scrub Bar

“Hot!”

With a twenty syllable name like that one, I felt almost an obligation to come up with a nickname/tagline/what-have-you that was only one syllable. Weren’t hard. It comes in a cute pink, pink, and white box with a die-cut volcano and sun landscape which allows you to see the soap, which itself is a light green with black sand specs—this is a seriously exfoliatin’ soap! Something about the two-tone pink, with white, box reminds me of pink saltwater taffy—but that’s just nostalgia talking. Far too many ingredients for me to look them all up, but it seems to agree with my skin—it’s a pleasant and even fun soap. What I like best is the fragrance—which I can’t nail down—it is really pleasing to me. The box says it’s a combination of bergamot and citrus and aloe and clover—not that I would have guessed any of that. This is one of those fragrances I keep going back to, intrigued, but I can’t figure it out. It’s definitely a memory thing—from somewhere, but what is it? Sometimes I wonder if it’s an unpleasant fragrance, but still evocative. I just don’t know. I might never get a handle on it. Maybe it’s a chemical cleaner in mop bucket, on a tile floor, 7 a.m. at a family restaurant. Or maybe it’s a sunny meadow with a bubbling brook, flowers in the breeze, and there’s Netta and Tinkerbelle. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Soap Review No. 168

Seafoam Lavender – Artisanal Lavender Soap

“Benign”

I bought this soap at the Milwaukee Art Museum in the little store for the Jules Chéret French poster exhibition—you know, they sell everything from postcards to mugs to soap—helps the museum pay for “them wings”—so I don’t mind that it’s overpriced and not French, but French Canadian. It’s from a company called Seafoam Lavender (their website is called Lavender Canada)—they are all about lavender—which is… who doesn’t love lavender. It’s a gentle, mild soap (ingredients include Goat Milk!) with a subtle fragrance, easily lost in the beige haze of my soap-room and the insanity of fragrance overload from the smell laboratory. And nothing against this soap, quiet people, NPR, the shortest route, the safe choice, or stress-free days—we all need those things. I for one am not going to always fall for the big explosion. The thing about floral scents—I imagine they are easier said than done—and there are ways to go wrong. Any floral scent that’s too concentrated will weirdly smell like poop, to put it mildly. This soap, they get everything right. Still, I’m not composing a specific, frantic letter to any of my long-lost (as much my fault any anyone’s) correspondents, about this soap. Did I need to say that?

Soap Review No. 167

Trader Joe’s – Peppermint & Tea Tree Shampoo Bar

“What Next?”

Shampoo in the form of a soap bar? What next? Are they gonna put hand soap in a bottle? I’m just kidding, of course—that’ll never happen. I mean, I’m just kidding, in that shampoo was in bar form long before it came in plastic bottles—I mean all the way back to the Egyptians. Well, I guess I don’t know if the Egyptians had bar shampoo—but they were advanced in a lot of ways, so probably. And I don’t think they had plastic bottles, but who knows. Some people think they were space aliens, and why not. If space aliens were to show up right now, what do you think they’d advise us on? Probably to not destroy the Earth—because it’s not so easy to go find another one. First of all, they’d say stop using the cars. Soon down their list of suggestions would be to stop using disposable plastic bottles when it’s totally unnecessary, and that includes for shampoo and soap. On the other hand, they might have to spend all their time trying to navigate languages—especially English—like, what’s with peppermint? What’s this tea tree, and why doesn’t anyone drink tree tea? Why do people wash their hair so much, and who is this “Trader Joe?” Why does everyone eat so many chicken’s eggs, as gross as they are? And that’s all just on their first day!

Soap Review No. 166

Lush – Figs and Leaves

“Figging Again”

That nickname/tagline/what-have-you is a joke, based on the phrase “dating again”—because I often think it’s funny that people confuse dates and figs, even though they are no more alike than apples and oranges. Neighbor’s house. This soap has a beguiling fragrance—I’ll say right off—and I have only until the completion of this review to figure it out, so I’m gonna keep going back to it, and check in with my idea/guess/what-have-you, fragrance-wise. Boudoir. (Don’t know why I said that. It’s almost off-putting—but gross and lovely are two sides of the same coin.) LUSH must be big company because their website has way too much information—but doesn’t actually tell you who (or where) they are. That’s okay, though. I get it. Locker room. But in a good way. I love how their soaps have this weird trapezoidal shape and are all about imperfections and lack of symmetry—this Figs and Leaves one is almost gnarly, with dark leaves on one end, and fig (I assume) seeds throughout. Date Nut Bread. Again with the fig/date thing. But it really does smell like a delicious, sweet, bakery item you might get at a café. Plus, it kind of resembles a baked good. But for all its misshapen weirdness, it’s got a creamy, lovely lather. Okay, I give up… and look at the website. Besides figs, there’s ylang-ylang! I can see that. Absolutely. It’s in all the best fragrances. Plus… orange flower absolute. I have no idea what that is, but okay. Plus, I used to date someone named Ylang-Ylang…

Soap Review No. 165

Good Earth – Lemon Verbena Patchouli Soap Bar

“Sub-Conscious”

Because I use so many soaps at once, it takes me a while to use soap up, which is nice sometimes because it gives a dwindling soap plenty of time to reveal it’s true innermost self and so forth. I believe this one has taken on a slightly deeper amber hue which is attractive. Also, the seeds have come out. It started out as a dusty, rough-hewn hunk with dark spots—and those spots turned out to be flax seeds, which reach the surface a few at a time as it wears down. It’s pretty cool. It made me think of those other soaps where things are inside—not the gimmicky glycerin soap with plastic toys—but way back, childhood. Wasn’t there some kind of soap that you ended up with a little guy with weird hair? Am I imagining that? I tried searching, but no luck—but what I did find was: “Fuzzy Wuzzy”—The Amazing Soap That Grows “Fur”—which I remembered using as a very little kid. It was soap that was in the shape of a little bear, and once you opened it, some kind of science-experiment growth appeared on it overnight. Sometimes I think that things were actually weirder back in the Sixties than they are now.

Anyway, that has nothing to do with this fine and decent handcrafted and somewhat local (it’s from Green Bay) soap. Doesn’t irritate my skin—good ingredients, olive, soybean, coconut oils and no chemically bullshit. It comes in minimal packaging, too—it seems like a good company—they have a lot of products—good website. I really like the fragrance of this one a lot—the mixture of the lemon verbena and the patchouli—it’s endlessly pleasant, I can’t get enough. Of course, I’m a big patchouli fan—and could always have more—but even if you’re not crazy about patchouli, you might find it’s in the right combination with the verbena, here. They have a bunch of other soaps, too—I’ll have to try some. (What’s with that Kitchen Kleen?)  And then those little flax seeds, that pop out, by and by—I suppose for some exfoliatin’— but I find them amusing, as well.

Soap Review No. 164

Duke Cannon Supply Co. – Bay Rum

“Blackbeard”

The appeal of the “Big Ass Brick” of Duke Cannon soap may be pure “Beavis & Butt Head,” but it’s an appeal, nonetheless, as long as you’re able to remember what it felt like being ten years old. The idea is that women are not amused—and also, as a generalization, women are more sensitive to fragrance—and would find this soap overpowering, even migraine inducing. I am a fan of excess, sometimes, so I appreciate its boldness. Besides the Bay Rum, their scent is also channeling “Citrus Musk,” “Cedarwood,” and “Island Spice”—and it conjures a noseful that can best be described as: dude. Anyway, it brings to mind my favorite aftershave, Clubman Virgin Island Bay Rum—which oddly enough you can find in Ohio, but not Milwaukee. In a pinch, I’ll still use Aqua Velva (sad that it no longer comes in the bumpy glass bottle). Though… I am no longer able to tolerate the Old Spice. The Clubman Bay Rum comes from the same company, Pinaud, as my 2nd favorite, Lilac Vegetal—amazing that we can still find that one at all—and an even odder variety, Pinaud Clubman. There could be no more than a handful of us Clubman users left in the U.S. (I don’t want to speak for Globally)—we could probably all get together for an annual meeting at the Armada Room, in a Holiday Inn on the outer belt just outside of Indianapolis—and I’d bet there’d be few pipe smokers and maybe even someone with a monocle. In no more than a few years, I’m afraid I won’t be able to find any of these anymore, except on pricey eBay auctions. But then, by that time, I might also not be able to find socks that go up past your ankles.

Soap Review No. 163

OKAY Pure Naturals – African Black Soap

“Bakesale”

I honestly can’t tell if this OKAY company is on the up’n’up—I’m not “consumer reports” here, I don’t have the investigative firepower you can only get with cold hard cash or unhealthy levels of suspicion. I like to believe it’s all good, but if you’ve got a soft drink called “Okay,” it’s filled with high fucktose corn, and if you buy a car from a lot called Okay Used Cars, better have AAA on speed-dial. I’ve used “fake” “African Black Soap” that seemed to be some version of black soap, but had nothing to do with the real thing, though it might have been fine, and fun—and left so much black dye in the tub it looked like your goth little sister had just washed her hair. But then some friends brought me some of the real thing, from Ghana—unpackaged, just wrapped in plastic wrap like a brownie from a bake sale—and it in fact resembled food more than soap—either some out-there cheese, or maybe date-nut bread. Real African Black Soap, from West Africa, is made from some kind of pod ash, oil, maybe shea butter, without lye—so it’s very good for your skin. It’s also kind of soft and crumbly and not very uniform, so it might freak out people used to factory everything. This soap has no added fragrance, but it does have an interesting, pleasant smell. It’s not quite as intense as the one I got from friends, but nearly is. The label says it’s from Ghana, and the ingredients are: coconut oil, raw shea butter, cocoa pod ash, water, and palm kernel oil. So that’s impressive. I’ve been liking this soap, a lot—if you can find some cheap, like I did, like at TJ Maxx or so forth—I’d say, hell yes, buy it.

Soap Review No. 162

Rae Dunn – Favorite Teacher – Citrus Summit

“Pencil Lead”

I remember scouring EMERAC last time I tried a Rae Dunn soap, for info on that company, but was exhausted by the vail of secrecy—so I’ll just make up my own narrative. Rae Dunn is a person… and a brand. Oh, wait… it’s on the back of the box. She’s an artist who took the lifestyle market by storm! This is soap for people who live in cool old buildings in which the apartments have been remodeled to look brand new, open concept, tall chairs at the breakfast bar, closet sized bathrooms with no windows, a showerhead the size of a dinnerplate, and no bathtub. What went into the production machinations of this soap is the story I’d like to know. It’s made in the US (box made in Korea)—good ingredients and a pleasant citrus fragrance. The name (Favorite Teacher) mildly cracked me up because it’s so wrong. How anything ends up at TJ Maxx is another story that might be interesting. Also, it’s one of those soaps that develops a slightly darker line around the middle as you use it. It makes me wonder about the construction / production of the soap bar, itself. Well, I’m not just here for the easy answers—part of my job, as I see it, is to propose mysteries.

Soap Review No. 161

Hunter & Grey – Smashed Pumpkin Bar Soap

“Mashed Som’thin’”

One could hardly resist this soap based on the goofy name and the snappy packaging, big orange PUMPKIN letters on black, and metallic gold highlights. The soap itself is glowing white, and I’m not sure the fragrance is that of pumpkin. What do pumpkins smell like, anyway—well, you know, when you cut one open to make a jack-o-lantern—the smell isn’t exactly pleasant, even kind of gross. You wouldn’t really want a soap that smells like that, right? The “pumpkin spice” craze of the last decade or so, that’s all about the spices that normally go into pumpkin pie—ginger, clove, nutmeg, that other one, and whatnot. But this soap doesn’t smell like that, either. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s subtle—it’s a really, pleasant, subtle fragrance. What I like most about this soap is the texture—it’s an oddly textural texture—I wouldn’t say “gravelly” but it’s not totally smooth, either. I’m not sure what achieves this, but I like it. Pretty good ingredients, including shea butter and glycerin—but no pumpkin.

Soap Review No. 160

Pacha Soap Co. – Farmhouse Cider

“Old Cask”

I normally spend more time trying to think of the two or three word “nickname” of the soap in the soap review than I do on writing the soap review. Maybe an exaggeration, but not much—so when I was, earlier, using this Pacha soap, enjoying its almost intoxicating, heady fragrance, I was happy when that phrase just came to me. As the name suggests, this soap smells like apple cider—or more so, like apple cider vinegar—but I detect an extra edge to it, which makes me think of being in a root cellar where someone has big stone jars of fermenting apple juice, and wooden casks of aging wine. It’s a seasonal soap, so why not go all out with the fragrance. They don’t skimp on the color either—it’s like you took your paint set into the bath. It’s a two-tone bar—a light tan brown, and an earthy, clay, red-brown. Though I like it a lot, it’s not my favorite Pacha soap—but since I buy more of their soap than from any other company, they have a lot of internal competition. I especially like their seasonal varieties.

Soap Review No. 159

Herbacil – Sulfur Natural Soap

“Water & Brimstone”

I was excited to see this one in my local Cermak grocery store because I hadn’t seen a Herbacil soap or a sulfur soap before. There is other sulfur soap out there, of course, but I haven’t seen any in person, yet. When you think of sulfur, you might remember experiments in chemistry back in school. Or the distinct sulfur smell from things like matches, old eggs, and farts. Some fly-by-night webpage tells me that sulfur is the tenth most abundant element in the universe. Really? The Universe? And what comes in number one, Jell-O Pudding? Anyway, I think this is the first soap I’ve used from Mexico. It says on the box, “For all kind of skin,” and also, “Decrease Excess Fat.” I don’t know what that’s all about, but it is a pleasant, slightly gritty soap on your skin, and has a pale yellow color. And it smells like, no surprise here, sulfur. But mild, not crazy or anything. The soap comes in a little box with a slightly insane illustration (powdered sulfur in a little dish, surrounded by roiling soap bubbles), and it was very inexpensive. I will probably try more Herbacil varieties.

Soap Review No. 158

LüSa Organics – Time Travel Soap

“Deja Vu”

Another excellent part-patchouli soap from LüSa Organics—this one also includes orange and lavender—it’s a nice combination of fragrances—the patchouli is subtle, but it’s enough to make me happy. I like the name “Time Travel” because it sounds like one of the nicknames I might use (which I assign to every review—and sometimes requires a bit of thought). I considered calling this review “Time Travel”—but that’s a joke only I would get. The soap is an intriguing purple color, almost sparkly when wet—fairly dark and earthy, quite pleasant. It’s funny, when I was much younger, I was fundamentally against purple (as a color), and patchouli (as a fragrance). I’m trying to think of something else that starts with “P”—just because things are always better in threes. Let’s see…poetry? No, I’ve always loved poetry. Poultry? Same there. Pittsburgh? Philadelphia? Piscataway, New Jersey? Love those places. Some of my favorite pieces of my personal wardrobe are now purple, and anytime I smell patchouli, my day takes a turn for the better. I had a doctor, when I was young, named Dr. Lavender, who I liked a lot, but especially his name. I always thought that would he great name. I’ll keep that in mind when challenged to name a character in some future fictional excursion.

Soap Review No. 157

Soap-n-Scent – Eucalyptus

“Personality Test”

It’s not like this eucalyptus soap is polarizing, like cilantro—I think everyone would like it, and would have to wonder about anyone who doesn’t—it’s just that it posed some questions for me. It’s a lovely, subtly scented, skin-friendly, green and white swirl bar—maybe the most overall pleasant bath bar soap I’ve used this decade. What got me thinking, though, after hammering out my “Soap Top Ten,” was why this one isn’t in the top ten? Do I personally prefer soap that’s a little weird, with a lot of personality, but is sometimes mildly offensive? Is it just all about evoking buried, complex, intense memories? Is it the burden and the gift of nostalgia? I can’t answer these questions today. This is sure a nice soap, though. It’s from Thailand—a company called Soap-n-Scent, not to be confused with my formerly favorite soap store in Milwaukee—or was that Soap and Sense? Or Soap and Cents? I’m sorry, I don’t remember—too many years have passed—and cups of coffee have accumulated—and the soap comes and goes like the new leaves and the fresh snow.

Soap Review No. 156

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