In Search of a Body Wash That Smells Like... Soap.

 

Once upon a time, buying soap was a relatively uncomplicated experience. You walked into a store, selected something that smelled clean, and went home. Somewhere along the way, the personal care industry decided that simply smelling clean was no longer an acceptable ambition.

 

Apparently, I missed the meeting.

 

Now, before anyone points me toward the soap aisle, let me clarify something. I know perfectly well that clean-smelling bar soap exists. There are plenty of choices. My objection isn't to the fragrance. It's to the bar.

 

There's the soggy soap dish, the slippery little remnant that refuses to stay in your hand, and that mysterious puddle of soap sludge collecting beneath it. I'd simply prefer the convenience of a bottle.

 

All I want is a body wash that smells pleasantly fresh and clean. Not like I've been rolling around in a bakery, vacationing inside a fruit salad, or receiving a full-body application of Vicks VapoRub.

 

Is that really too much to ask?

 

When Did My Shower Become a Dessert Menu?

Vanilla frosting. Coconut cream. Sugared berries. Warm caramel. Birthday cake.

 

These are perfectly respectable things to eat. But when did we collectively decide they belonged in the shower?

 

I have nothing against cupcakes. In fact, I rather enjoy them. I simply don't feel the need to smell like one for the remainder of the day.

 

And then there's the fruit collection. Mango, peach, pineapple, watermelon, pomegranate. At this point, I'm surprised nobody has introduced a body wash called Refrigerator Fruit Drawer.

 

I don't want to smell edible. I want to smell clean.

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The Great Botanical Assault

If you manage to escape the bakery and produce department, there's an entirely different fragrance category waiting to ambush you.

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Eucalyptus. Peppermint. Tea tree. Rosemary. Spearmint.

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Suddenly, your morning shower feels less like a relaxing experience and more like you've stumbled into the medicinal section of a botanical garden.

 

I understand that some people find these fragrances invigorating. That's wonderful. But personally, I don't need my body wash to clear my sinuses, awaken my senses, and introduce me to an entirely new level of consciousness.

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I just want to take a shower.

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Who Names These Things?

 

Perhaps the most entertaining part of this entire adventure is reading the labels.

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Moonlit Cashmere.

Vanilla Vibezzz.

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Whispering Waters.

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Surf Scent.

Midnight Enchantment.

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Velvet Sunrise.

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What exactly does cashmere smell like? And how does a sunrise acquire a velvet finish? And Surf Scent? Would that be high tide?

 

Somewhere, presumably, there's a conference room full of marketing professionals whose assignment is to invent increasingly poetic descriptions for combinations of fragrance oils.

 

I would love to attend one of those meetings.

 

“Gentlemen, our research indicates that consumers are looking for something fresh and clean.”

 

“Excellent. Let's call it Mystical Moonbeam Seduction.”

 

Meeting adjourned.

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The Forgotten Fragrance of Clean

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Here's the curious thing: clean has a scent. Or at least, we've come to associate certain fragrances with cleanliness.

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Fresh laundry. A gentle breeze. A freshly washed towel. That subtle, familiar soap fragrance that doesn't announce your arrival five minutes before you enter a room. Of course, calling something Fresh Linen or Ocean Breeze doesn't mean that's what you'll smell when you open the bottle. Despite their imaginative names, so many of these fragrances smell remarkably similar, often with an unmistakable undertone of plastic. Apparently, even plastic has a marketing department.

 

“Soapy clean” isn’t necessarily exciting. It doesn't transport you to an exotic island or promise to awaken your inner goddess.

 

It simply smells nice.

 

And sometimes, that's enough.

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My Search Continues

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I haven't abandoned hope. Somewhere out there is a body wash that doesn't smell like dessert, produce, herbal medicine, or an imaginary romantic destination.

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I'm convinced it exists.

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Until then, I'll continue wandering the personal care aisles, opening bottles, sniffing suspiciously, and wondering why the simple act of getting clean has become such an elaborate olfactory adventure.

 

And if anyone from the fragrance industry happens to be listening, I have a revolutionary product suggestion:

 

Body Wash. Scent: Soap.

 

You're welcome.

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Kristine K Bienema