Deodorant Wars: Go Home Deodorants, You Are Drunk

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five

MEANWHILE, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SINK:

"Listen, Samuel Adams Alpine Spring, we need to talk. Are the rumors true?

"I'm afraid they are, fellow cheesily-named Seasonal Brew. I'm in love."

"Then it's time for you to decide. Are you a beer...

...or are you a deodorant?"

MEANWHILE, IN BETWEEN THE TWO SINKS:

"We can't keep meeting like this, Alpine! It's too risky. If my brothers ever found out..."

"But I need you, Suave Invisible Solid! I need you and your extra-effective 24-hour protection! You are my everlasting sunshine! Nothing can keep us apart!"

MEANWHILE, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE OTHER SINK:

"We know what's going on. We know and it stops now. You've changed, Suave. You used to be so simple and gimmick free and powder fresh and now you and your boyfriend and non-properly hyphenated and redundant promises ARE TEARING THE ENTIRE COMMUNITY APART."

"Listen, Suave. I am the BOSS OF YOU. I just took the word "Matterhorn" and decided it was a SCENT. Cuz BAM. I smell like ICE, WIND & FREEDOM. The mountain-forest-water tableau on my label looks suspiciously similar to that six-pack's over there and I will NOT STAND FOR IT."

"NOTHING ABOUT ME MAKES A GODDAMN LICK OF SENSE. WTF IS A WOLFTHORN AND WHY DOES MY LABEL LOOK LIKE AN ED HARDY T-SHIRT? I AM CONFUSED AND ANGRY AND APPARENTLY NOT SLEEPING VERY WELL."

"Oh yeah? I smell like ANARCHY. Bow down, all you nonsensical bitches. Check my ingredients; I bet I'm like 14% bath salts or something."

"Usually I'm the laid-back peacemaker around here but those Alpine Spring dickbags are straight up copping my roll. I'm Tom's of Motherfucking Maine Motherfucking Mountain Spring so you best step off. Sheeeee-it."

"I...uh...well, I didn't draw the little across line on the A in my name! That's pretty badass, right? There's an extraneous plus sign in my name?  Right? God, I have no idea what I'm even doing here, honestly. Can't we just go bowling or something?"

*indecipherable grunting*

"Holy shit, y'all. I think the men's deodorant industrial complex has lost its damn mind. We're not even remotely funny anymore, even though that one over there claims to smell like ooh la la lavender."

"STFU, Degree Expert Protection Motion Sense Motion Activated Freshness Sexy Intrigue Invisible Solid. You are nothing more than a goddamn tube of word salad now and everyone knows it. EVERYONE."

MEANWHILE, BACK IN BETWEEN THE TWO SINKS:

IT'S AN ICY FRESH SCENT DANCE-OFF, Y'ALL.

"No, Matterhorn! I looooove him! He wants to marry me! We're going to be together! We're going to have babies that smell like pine needles and have labels like sunshine!" 

"So no one is gonna ask why there'a a six-pack of beer in the bathroom in the first place? How much pre-gaming does the bitch who lives here do, on average? Damn. I bet she's drunk right now."

*rabble rabble rabble rabble*

"NOOOOOOOOOO YOU KILLED HIM! ALPINE SPRING, COME BACK TO MEEEEEE!"

*hurls self to death*

~FIN~

EPILOGUE:

Turns out "Ice, Wind & Freedom" smells mostly like "Generic Men's Deodorant v.122.2329.2," while "Wolfthorn" smells like "Orange Creamsicle Lip Smackers." On the other hand, "Anarchy" smells like "The Worst, Seriously, I Almost Literally Vomited Just Now Because It's That Overpoweringly Bad, Oh My God."

Tom's of Motherfucking Maine Motherfucking Mountain Spring and Certain-Dri smell like Unscented.

Degree Clinical+ Clean smells like my husband, because that's the only one of these he uses or probably will ever use. So, great. Anybody want a free tube Orange Creamsicle Lip Smackers-scented deodorant? It's fucking hella manly. Gots wolves on it, and shit. 

Samuel Adams Alpine Spring tastes like a lager with some lemon juice added. Is just okay, but not bad, and will get you nicely tipsy especially if you day-drink it in the name of science blogging.

Deodorant Wars: Where Are They Now? Edition

Once upon a time, I noticed that deodorant labels had kind of lost their damn minds. It was no longer enough for a deodorant to promise you the basic trinity of Shit You Want It To Do — keep you dry, keep you non-smelly, keep your clothing not completely streaked in white chalky goo — because suddenly one single tube was promising at least seven different things. PH balance! Active Body Responsive! Moisturizing! Skin Nurturing! Smoothing! Hair Minimizing! Continually Renewing Fragrance! 24-hour wetness stank protection so yo ass don't even need to SHOWER with this shit, baby!

And it needed to do all that while also looking less like a plastic tube of B.O. balm and more like some kind of fancy ornate perfume bottle with lots of pretty swirls and metallic accents. 

It's hard out there for a deodorant, apparently. 

So also once upon a time, I combined these Overly Deep Thoughts On Deodorant Labels with my compulsion to anthropomorphize inanimate objects and create elaborate soap operas with them. (WHAT.) Thus, the Deodorant Wars were born and I managed to accrue quite a collection of deodorants purchased specifcally for the series. Most of which I shoved in a drawer and never used, because DOVE CLINICAL PROTECTION FTW. 

And yet I could never quite bring myself to throw the extra tubes out, because 1) they weren't even opened, in most cases, so WASTEFUL, and 2) they were my friends. Even the bitchy ones who picked on poor Tom's of Maine.

ANYWAY. OH MY GOD. GET TO THE POINT, SELF. A couple months ago I ran out of Dove deodorant. And yet despite making multiple trips to Target and the grocery store, I keep forgetting to buy more. I'll stand there in the toiletries aisle, my little hamsterbrain working so hard to remember That Thing I Need that it's practically smoking, and then...OOOOH CHAPSTICK LA LA LA.

BREAKING: I'm an idiot.

So I've been forced to dig into my emergency stash of emergency deodorants. Most of which I purchased all the way back in 2008, and are marked with expiration dates of 2010. But I figured maybe -- just maybe, like prescription drugs and the Kardashians' 15 Minutes — those expiration dates could be stretched a little, or ignored outright.

So today I'd like to give y'all an update on our old friends. Where Are They Now? What Do They Smell Like? Who Got Fat? Who Went On To Make Millions From Inventing That App You Totally Could Have Thought Of, Goddamit?

NAME: Secret Flawless Invisible Solid

SCENT: Totally Fresh

WHERE IS SHE NOW: God, more like, "Totally Forgettable," riiiiight? I can't tell you what this was supposed to smell like, because now it's little more than a vaguely perfume-y baby powder scent. And "Powder Fresh" was a SEPARATE OPTION besides "Totally Fresh," so like, I don't even know. It's like, Secret Flawless got married and had a couple kids and moved to the suburbs with the minivan and just gave up on herself and her metallic-edged blooming lady flower. It's sad, really. 

VERDICT: Peaked in high school, but still capable of long-lasting odor protection. 

NAME: Degree Women Body Responsive

SCENT: Sexy Intrigue

WHERE IS SHE NOW: OMG, stop embarrassing yourself! It's all too much. It's a damned "MY MOM DRESSES TOO SEXY & STEALS MY BOYFRIENDS" episode of Maury. The girly pink-and-green swirls with the metallic leopard print? Stop. Just. Stop. And "Sexy Intrigue" IS NOT A THING THAT SMELLS, DEGREE. And while this was part of the "Fine Fragrance Collection," it basically smells like Ex'cla-ma'tion crossed with a little baby powder.

VERDICT: My seventh-grade self would have been all over this shit. 

NAME: Degree Girl Invisible Solid

SCENT: Just Dance

WHERE IS SHE NOW: Girls don't want to wear their moms' deodorant, because moms like to go to bed at least once in a 24-hour period and girls just wanna have fun, party all the time, just dance, it'll be okay, everybody just da-ance.

VERDICT: Don't be fooled by the sleek black packaging, this is NOT the deodorant companion piece to Lady Gaga's Fame perfume. (I KNOW BECAUSE I OWN THAT. WHAT.) "Just Dance" smells kind of like citrus-scented (wait for it...) baby powder. And it works just like every other invisible solid deodorant on the planet BECAUSE THAT'S ALL IT IS. (I know. We're all deeply, deeply shocked that "girls" have the same basic underarm needs as "women" or like, "human beings in general.")

NAME: Secret Scent Expressions Invisible Solid

SCENT: Bella Bloom

WHERE IS SHE NOW: Much like Degree's attempt to capitalize on Lady Gaga's circa 2008 chart domination, I'm guessing this was Secret's sneaky unlicensed take on the Twilight Saga. (Though I don't remember seeing options like "Edwardian Sparkles" or "Full Moon Musk" and have to say I'm a little disappointed in you, Secret.) And much like the hoopla surrounding Twilight, this ridiculously overworked label looks a little dated and mock-worthy now.

HOWEVER. Bella has a secret, y'all:

Underneath her vadge-shaped lid is a iridescent pink cover with a raised blooming lady flower that actually MARKS THE DEODORANT WITH SAID BLOOMING LADY FLOWER. That's some next-level branding shit, Secret, and I have to applaud you for it. Even though I accidentally replaced the cover upside down and kind of mangled it.

VERDICT: It smells like baby powder, works just okay.

NAME: Suave Invisible Solid

SCENT: Powder

WHERE IS SHE NOW: The same as it ever was. And is, and shall be. Suave don't play no stupid label games, making up bullshit scents and trying to dress up like some kind of goddamned sparkle-covered whore-tube. Suave always knew what Suave wanted: Graduate, go to a decent state school for undergrad, then maybe an Ivy for law school, not that Suave is gonna be dick about it; Suave just got really good grades and worked hard, you know? Suave got what Suave wanted, and also paid off Suave's loans in under five years because Suave knows how to fucking budget, y'all. Respect.

VERDICT: If you're ever in the market for vintage expired deodorants (I dunno, check Etsy), I highly recommend you stick with Suave. This one still has the strongest scent and actually works as an actual deodorant/anti-perspirant better than any of the ones I tried. Though I must unfortunately take exception to the "Goes on clear!" promise. Sure, it's clear on your skin, but any fabric within a three-foot radius is gonna get all kinds of streaked up. 

NAME: Tom's of Maine Aluminum-Free Deodorant Stick

SCENT: Lavender

WHERE IS HE NOW: Spent some time in the Peace Corps, got a little sidetracked by the Occupy movement before moving to Portland and getting super into urban farming. Raises chickens. Won't stop talking about the chickens. All his friends are like, will you just eat the chickens already? Knows where all the farmers' markets are and good places for brunch. Sells reclaimed vintage pens on Etsy, like the kind you turn upside down and the lady's shirt falls off. Still smells really, REALLY fucking hard like lavender oil, like wow. 

VERDICT: Shut up, Tom. 

The Deodorant Wars, Crime Noir Edition: The Devil Had Dry Armpits

(This entry is based on actual events.)

(I mean, kind of. I made up some parts up. See if you can guess which ones!) 

(Also, certain events have been recreated for photographic purposes.)

(I wore gloves. Ew.)

(Also also, if you have absolutely no idea what in sam blessed hill is going on here, allow me to direct you to the previous entries in the Deodorant Wars Saga [linked below], which goes further and further off the rails with each ridiculous installment.)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

The official cause of death? Accidental toilet drowning.  

"Some clumsy dumbass probably just knocked it off the bathroom counter and into the toilet with her elbow," the coroner said. "It's a real shame. By the looks of it she had a good 10, maybe even 20 clicks left in her."

I didn't think too much of it at first. Once you've been Dermatologist Tested and equipped with patented TRIsolid^TM body responsive technology, you pretty much become numb to this sort of thing. I just show up to write the reports, file the paperwork. 

The name's Lieutenant Degree Men Clinical Protection. I'm a cop. Maybe there was a time when I was a good one. Maybe there will come a time when I'll be one again. Right now, most days, it's just too damn hot out there to care. 

The sweat stains are gonna win anyway, so why even try? 

Her younger sister -- a sweet kid, smelled like cucumbers -- came to identify the body. And immediately started asking questions, poking around, sticking her lid where it had no business being. 

"This was no accident," she all but hollered. God, I hate when they make a scene. The last thing we need is for the shampoos to get wind of this. Them and the soaps are always getting mysteriously dropped in the shower and have been just itching to a reason to start a full-on riot over sink-side police coverups. 

"The angle, the trajectory," she went on, "It's all just too perfect. Who has that kind of aim with their elbow? Honestly. She was clearly pushed. On purpose."

"I loved my sister." Her voice was quieter now, thank goodness. "She was smart. Successful. Clinically proven."

"But she had...some enemies."

She may have looked like a dame's deodorant, but she had the crime and odor-fighting skills of a man. I had to admire that. 

She wasn't all aluminum zirconium tetrachlorohydrex, though. Another look at her sister's lifeless body brought out her softer, moisturizing side.

"She always had prescription-strength wetness protection, but..."

She didn't need to say it. We were both thinking it. Sweat is one thing. Nothing can protect you from a full-on dunk in the shitbowl.

I needed to say something else, though, even if she didn't want to hear it. My own specially-formulated wetness protection didn't extend much further than the medicine cabinet, and if there was foul play going on here, the culprit probably didn't come from there.

No, I suspected this was the work of The Others. They'd once enjoyed a little taste of infamy and the good life -- something with the Internet, I didn't really understand any of it -- but have been banished to a bottom drawer for damn over two years now. They're well past their expiration dates but it turns out once you anthropomorphize a bunch of deodorants for blogging purposes, it gets awful difficult to just toss them in the trash. 

They were a motley bunch, for sure. Shifty. Made the whole drawer smell overpoweringly like lavender-scented cool fresh baby powder mixed with the ambiguously named-by-marketing committee smells of Bella Bloom, Sexy Intrigue and Just Dance. 

You never forget that smell.

Yeah, I had my work cut out for me here, if I wanted to help this poor dame find out what happened to her sister. You can probably imagine my surprise when I realized that...I did. Want to help, that is. There was just something about her. Something about this case. It stunk, all right, just like that damned bottom drawer.

"Don't worry, Dovecakes," I told her. "I'll ask around. Just know that getting to the real truth in this town is..."

"The pits."

(YEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!)