The Charcoal Body Wash Freak Show
Carlin realized the Freak Show. True realization only comes with acknowledgment of your own role in the show, however. Here's mine.
George Carlin once delivered a startling but introspective line reflecting on American consumerism. Commenting on the culture, he ventured: “When you're born you get a ticket to the freak show. When you're born in America, you get a front row seat.”
Carlin’s critique of consumer culture is an easy route to laughter for those interested. It’s way out there kinda stuff but very amusing and illuminating, given how tethered we are to “stuff”. For what its worth, Carlin seemed to be on the fence as to his own involvement in the freak show.
During a recent stroll through the isles of my local grocery store I stumbled upon the skimpy health and beauty section. I wasn’t really expecting a run in with the freak show. It was a random grocery store after all, but I’m still the kind of person who holds onto reasonable expectations to some faithful degree.
The lead up to this trip to the market was one laden in shampoo overuse. I had been out of body wash for a few days and had also repeatedly forgotten to pick the soapy stuff up on other errand runs.
I make my way to what writer Martin Amis might have referred to as the isle of interest. Rivaled only by the caustic air of the cleaning supplies isle, the health and beauty section doesn’t give the senses a rest, either.
My eyes and brain are always keen to catch the bright on sale signs and stickers and so I gravitate to that section of the isle’s display. It took some time to find the body wash. Actually, I’ve come to anticipate this hardship each time I purchase the stuff. Like how they separate canned tomatoes from tomato sauces, I’ll never understand the logic. Whether soap stuff or tomato stuff, you’re largely on your own in this way. Oh, so you found the shampoo, and you think the body wash is nearby? Guess again. And what about asking store employees in these times of strife and stress? Well, it seems like a wise move, but its also hit or miss.
Anyways, I get to the Old Spice section. Old Spice is a trusted brand, I have no doubts. I’ve only had good experiences over the years but I must admit I am not very loyal in this way. Those neon sale signs have a way in twisting your arm in the trenches of the overwhelmingly lit isles of the grocery store.
A beige bottle jams its arms and legs out at me – “$5.99”. The bottle looks like its neighbors except for the black stuff on the label. And so, after feasting my eyes on the charcoal-infused body wash before me, I pull the trigger and drop the bottle in my basket among a few apples and coffee. I wandered home after picking up a few other items, some of this in preparation for my Sunday brunch date. The second meeting and the first morning encounter in earnest. So, obviously, I need to shower, right? I head home with my new trusty body wash friend. I shampoo the hair, which is getting too long, and shift my focus to the body wash.
I pour a generous amount into one hand and rub and lather it between my hands. As I do, I notice two things instantly. For one, they were not fucking around. They actually put bits and pieces of charcoal in the body wash. It looks like a dissolving cookies and cream chocolate bar in my hand.
The second lesson was tactile in nature. The slop is gritty and palpable. Its liquid sand paper and so you’re limited with where you can safely or rationally apply the lotion. You can’t escape the feeling and the sensory trick. The body wash appears innocent enough, but when you get used to smooth transitions in the shower, charcoal body wash really throws one for a loop.
I wash and rub the charcoal all over my neck, behind my ears, and then all over my chest and back. Rinse and repeat and it’s the same bizarre experience that doesn’t want to make sense. Each application is as if for the first time, as if I’m relearning the dirt in my soap trick. I’d think about it more later but in the moment it was very “what-the-fuck-is-this-shit?”
I wrap up and get on to brunch. To the amusement of my date, I tell the charcoal story as we await our eggs and toast. She seems very enthralled and even laughs a lot. I can’t rule out the possibility that she was just terrified I was sharing this information over coffee, though.
Later that night, I naturally turn to google and to my friend to satisfy my own curiosity. My friend normalizes the situation: “Oh, no, no, its good for exfoliation”.
Okay, fair enough. But in that case maybe I should be basting my face in the goop under lamps and lighting. She didn’t laugh at the situation as much as my date, but there could be good reason for that.
I then turn to Google, always a safe port in storms of ignorance. The suggested questions feature is most helpful this time around.
“What does charcoal body wash do?”
Google says: “Charcoal soap helps to absorb excess oil, dirt, product buildup and harmful bacteria from your skin, all of which are leading causes of common breakouts. Charcoal also works as an anti-inflammatory, absorbing substances that inflame the skin so it can prevent redness and leave you with cleaner, clearer skin.”
Okay. This sounds reasonable and lends credibility to my friend’s view. The irony of dirt cleaning dirt off my body is an amusing thing to contemplate. But then my dark mind turns to the c-word. Cancer. Everything causes cancer these days, doesn’t it? So, I add that to my search query.
“Is charcoal body wash safe?” comes up as a suggested question. Google seems to be picking up what I’m lying down at this point.
Google says: “Its large surface area allows it to absorb toxins, which is why activated charcoal in soap theoretically binds to dirt and oil on the skin and helps clear out pores. While there's no good evidence that activated charcoal benefits skin, it's generally considered safe to use.”
Okay. So, it is all bullshit. The use of “theoretically” seals the deal. It reminds me of a research program at my undergraduate university focused on “bio-charcoal”. I’m unsure of what became of it all, but I guess success in this field of research would involve convincing some shampoo executive to put shitty BBQ dirt in their health and beauty products – “for the surface area!”.
The experience has pushed me to reflect on my familial entrepreneurial spirit. After recovering from the shower and the shock, I had an idea for a new line of sensory stimulating health and body products. Why stop in the bathroom? Why not have charcoal candles? They could easily be designed to release ash into the empty air of your apartment or house and from there to your lungs.
What about a charcoal hand cream? It could become transparent, save the charcoal, leaving little black bits of dirt all over your hands.
Without evidence that it’s bad, isn’t it rationale?
The fun doesn’t shouldn’t end there. Expanding the candle industry in this way will could allow for further hires at a real health and beauty store like Bed Bath and Beyond, for example. The company suffers from understaffing as anyone who has wandered inside their borders will tell you. At times, the herd of customer service people seem intent on documenting your mood every thirty seconds. I match their energy by trying to dodge them as I search for the right, overpriced, three-wick candle. Such problems don’t exist in the safety of the grocery store isles where I found the dirt-based body wash stuff.
And shifting back to the shower, I’ve consistently kept up with my charcoal friend for several days now. I can’t say I’m against the goop but its certainly a complicated relationship - an identity I’m comfortable with, whether with body wash or with people.
If I stumble across another sale display compelling me to grab some sort of charcoal body wash, or even shampoo, I’d probably pull the trigger.
As for the candles and hand cream, I think I’ll stick to the boring varieties for now, but we’ll see.