Institut Karité Paris – Lavender Perfume Shea Soap

“Dr. Lavande”

Guess where this soap comes from? It’s not Paris, Texas. It’s a little, perfectly square (not cube), white bar that comes in a compact paper package with a purple (for lavender) label. It looks more like a container for… something… than soap. Let’s see. Art supplies? Little glossy black and white photos of scantily dressed women? Snuff? They have an uninspiring website with too many things jumping around (like most websites) so it’s like you’re playing French Whac-A-Mole. There are more ingredients than a Hostess CupCake, and some I’m not sure I want near my skin—but maybe I’m wrong—at least the shea butter is a good one. The fragrance is the thing here, I feel like, the signature of this soap, and it’s some serious lavender perfumery. Some might find it a tad intense—but I kind of like it. At least you don’t forget that it’s there.

Soap Review No. 179

HOPIFICIO – White Musk

“X”

The name is stylized like H2OPIFICIO—as in water—not sure what that means—I’m too weary to much care. The “White Musk” part is intriguing—I’m not going to paraphrase all the speculative bullshit about the fragrance with that name—if the readers are interested, the readers can make their own inquiries. I might look into it myself, later. Anyway, it’s different than “musk”—which is also a word with many meanings—when it comes to scents. This is a fancy-pants Italian soap (nice packaging, both tasteful and tacky)—it’s another one for giving as a gift—and leaving untouched in the powder room. The mile-long list of chemically ingredients scares me, as does the aggressive perfume—it smells a bit like funeral flowers—I like it, but I don’t know if I want it to join me in the bathtub. So… I don’t know if rich people use this soap—probably not—but what do rich people use? I’m sure it varies (I would hope), but that gives me an idea for a new product business. I was thinking about when I worked a few days at the coat check at the U.N.—those coats just felt different (some rich, maybe, some important diplomats, all international). What if we were able to market, somehow, the scent of celebrities? (I mean it would just be a sanctioned rundown of their fragrance products in affordable, temporary form—not their actual body odor, gross.) I think people would go for it, some people, those smell-centric inclined. And for the rich people, a way to make more money without really doing anything.

Soap Review No. 178

Palmolive Naturals – Suavidad Exfoliante – Con Coco Y Algodón

“Coco-Phone”

I bought this soap at the Cermak grocery, with the Mexican products—it’s Mexican made Palmolive, in Spanish language packaging with an English language ingredients sticker weirdly and haphazardly stuck on back—with the soap’s name in English: “Palmolive Coconut Water Bath Soap”—totally different name. Bizarre. I’ll go with the real package (even though I can do without that “Naturals” business). I get the “exfoliating” part—and it does have a pleasant grit—but I’m pretty sure I’m off track thinking it’s a soap for “suave dads”—it could be, but anyone might like it. The coconut part is obvious—there’s a split open coconut on the package. Which reminds me, I also bought a fresh coconut at the grocery—I forgot how delicious coconut is! I really like the shape of this soap—it’s kind of “U” shaped, like a little handle that will fit in your hand—and also will let water drain out under—it makes a lot of sense—it reminds me of an old-school handset telephone. Why doesn’t other soap do this? The company is Palmolive—so huge corporation—but they’ve been around since like Biblical times (see: their name). But anyway, the ingredients (as far as I can tell, still no chemistry degree) are good. It’s got a nice feeling, a gentle soap, and the fragrance has a nostalgic quality (like clean laundry at your grandparents’ house) and there’s plenty of it—it might be a little strong for some. I’m not sure what it is, but I love it.

Soap Review No. 177

Duke Cannon Supply Co. – Accomplishment is Our Secret Weapon!

“True Grit”

Of the Duke Cannon soaps I’ve tried, this is the most usable, I mean for other than a laugh—for one, because of its subtle fragrance—when washing with it, you don’t feel like you’re in a Chrysler Imperial with a guy selling vacuum cleaners door-to-door. The always entertaining DCSC box states that the scent is “inspired by drinking a fine scotch in a wood-paneled den.” I don’t know about that, but it does have some fragrance, and it’s pleasant. What I like best about this very large, coal black soap, though, is its feel, which is slightly gritty—there’s a very fine sandy texture—I’m assuming from the activated charcoal—and it’s very nice on your skin. You’d never guess that from the soap’s name, which nonetheless is inspired—though, gets me thinking about that phrase, “secret weapon”—which is seldom a literal weapon—and can be applied to virtually any field of endeavor. Plenty of the usual “real man” nonsense on the box—kind of funny, considering that real men use whatever’s cheapest in the grocery store and don’t spend time thinking about it. There’s even a “trademarked” slogan, “Not for Clowns”—which I take to mean equating clowns with incompetent people—totally wrong. Clowns exist to get under your skin—and if it’s your intention to “ban” them, then they’ve done their job.

Soap Review No. 176

Good Earth – Cedar & Citrus Soap Bar

“Antique Mall”

Sometimes I wonder why I keep dicking around with questionable and sketchy soap from discount houses when I could just buy this excellent quality stuff and use it with confidence that I’m not going to break out under my arms or raise otherwise weird rashes. It’s a little more expensive, sure, but it also lasts longer and it’s worth it. Yet, I keep up the experiment. Anyway, this is the second flavor I’ve tried from this relatively local (Green Bay) company, and it’s a pleasure whenever I engage it. I’ve been keeping it alive longer than I might have by only using it for my face (where my nose is located—and derives much pleasure from the natural fragrances of lavender, cedar, orange, and patchouli). It must be tricky to mix fragrances, and I have to say, had I tested it blind, I would have guessed citrus and patchouli—though both are pleasingly subtle. I can’t pick out the cedar, but it’s likely there, adding to the mix, and I’m happy the lavender isn’t dominant (I love lavender, but there’s a time and place). And, yes, I’m always happy for patchouli, whether if be from soap, hippie passersby, or service professionals—I’ll take it.

Soap Review No. 175

Castelbel Porto – Exfoliating Soap – Poppy Seeds

“Failed Drug Test”

Another big bar of this Portuguese soap—this one specifically “For Men”—for some reason. The soap itself is pleasant, off-white with irregular poppy seeds for the exfoliating. Usually when a soap is geared toward “the unfair sex” it has to do with fragrance—and in this case, the package says: “Fragrance: Whiskey.” Knowing that, I can smell it, but I wouldn’t have guessed. It’s pretty subtle—anyone who doesn’t like overpowering fragrance should be okay with it—gender aside. The smart packaging is really the only thing “masculine” here—it’s burgundy-brown with black and gold letters and a gold top hat as the only adornment. As far as poppy seeds go, I don’t think I’ve yet seen them in soap, so this is cool. When I think of poppy seeds, I think of them in baked goods—they always add a nice touch—not sure, really, what level of deliciousness they add—but why not. I remember hearing that since they come from the opium poppy, they can give you positive results on drug tests. Frankly, that sounds like a lot of hogwash to me, but then, so are drug tests.

Soap Review No. 174

Crabtree & Evelyn – LaSource

“Terry Crabtree”

Terry Crabtree being the only person I could think of with that last name, offhand—he’s a character in “Wonder Boys” (the movie—and I’m thinking the book, but I don’t remember), a flamboyant, gay, book editor who might scoff at this soap—though maybe he bought this very giftset, C & E box-o-three, at the Atlantic Center and had it giftwrapped and mailed for obligatory X-Mas gift for his dear old mom in Sagaponack—who then put this bar in her powder room, never to be touched by grimy hands or tapwater. To a fault, I can’t resist these boxsets at TJ Maxx. The fragrance is rich-person nice—and surprisingly subtle, but maybe it’s just worn out after a year trapped on a backed-up container ship. I’m a little afraid of all the chemically named ingredients, but the one listed as “Parfum (Fragrance)” might be the worst—could be damn near anything. I might never get to the others in the set—I might give up this budget soap exploration and just buy local, natural ingredient soaps (that would be the wise thing, but I’m…). At any rate, the name translates as “The Source”—duh. But what it really means, I think, in the French sense, is: “seed”—you know, sperme… semen, cum, jizz. Pole milk. Daddy sauce. So there you have it.

Soap Review No. 173

Nature’s Blend – Seaweed & Tea Tree Soap

“Seatree & Weed Tea”

From New Zealand, which is a long way from here, but maybe not so far for a bar of soap. I mean, how much of a freighter ship does it take up? Percentagewise? I’d love to see the journey it took—someday we’ll be able to do that. Every product will have a chip, and we’ll be able to scan it and trace its entire journey—I suppose you can do that now with a lot of things. There’s a lot of good ingredients, and it’s got a lovely green color with brown seaweed exfoliating specs. It looks a little like pistachio ice cream, so be careful not to eat it. When you think about it, Seaweed & Tea Tree has a ring to it, but I don’t know what else it could be but a beauty product. The scent is very subtle—I guess it’s a mild tea tree scent—no perfume whatsoever—so if you’re into an un-perfumy soap, this might be for you.

Soap Review No. 172

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