Trailer Trad Grooming: Ivory Soap

Sometimes, change can reach up and surprise you. Even in the soap section of the supermarket. Growing up, my mom instilled certain brand loyalties in her kids. Many of them have changed over the years but some have stayed the same. Domino sugar, Tide detergent, Skippy peanut butter (Jiff? Jiff. -Do you really want to fight over peanut butter? We can you know.).

Some have changed. I no longer eat Kraft singles or Chef Boyardee. I no longer use Crest toothpaste or wash my hair with Prell. Oh, and I no longer shine my shoes with Kiwi shoe polish (sorry dad).

I'm glad that I've said farewell to most of these things. However, there is one item that I never, ever thought that I would stop using. Ivory soap. The good news is that I haven't. The bad news is, inexplicably, the shelf space devoted to it has shrunk to the size of the space devoted to replacement leather shoe laces for work boots. I'm sorry to ever say anything negative about you Harris Teeter. You know that my love for you knows no bounds.

It's just that finding a flagship product of mighty Proctor & Gamble relegated to such small shelf space is like finding out that GM autos must now be bought online like 'Teslas' because there are no longer any GM dealerships.

What's to blame? Axe. Axe is to blame. For everything. Everywhere. Here's a rule fellas. Get clean first, then smell good. Don't mix. You wouldn't just slop more fresh oil over sandy, dirty gears. You wouldn't just take a dirty, grimy wall and paint over it. And you would not disinfect a dirty trashcan by just gassing it with Fabreeze? -Well, maybe you would. Buddy, Axe is AWESOME!.

Me, I want to clean (not disinfect. That's different and not as manly as 'clean') myself efficiently  and thoroughly and then, at the end, apply a subtle cologne to finish.

But Monsieur Trad, you say, Ivory soap evaporates like the morning dew leaving me with little nubs of worthless soap bits that I rub over myself in a futile effort to raise a lather. To that I say, "have you a heart of stone, Sir?" Think about the poor working man who manned the machine that stamped Ivory on every bar of soap for P&G who retired at 42 in 1967 and has been collecting retirement ever since?

Listen, since you won't listen to reason I'm forced to paint you a picture. Buying something that comes in a 'tough' looking oil can container and is marketed by implying that you will become a chick magnet if you use it is like wearing a Harley Davidson muscle shirt before taking off to wow the gals at Hooters.

Now that we've cleared that up, go and enjoy Ivory's intoxicating scent of tradition and practicality.