The Corner has tackled many unconventional and controversial subjects, but one area that remains largely taboo is that of personal hygiene. I say largely because I can think of a few moments where we crossed some lines, but it’s best not to recap them all here. Still this lacuna needs to be filled. I shall make a small contribution to that effort here and now.

Like many of you, I have found the use of bar soap increasingly wearying, if not physically exhausting, than at least contributing to a certain level of spiritual ennui. There was a time when that smell of Irish Spring might lift the cold, leaden, curtain that enshrouds my days with caliginosity. But now I find that not even that aromatic candle prevents me from cursing the darkness.

And this is why I have resorted to liquid soaps, body washes and the like. Perhaps its the novelty of the experience perhaps its something more. But I have yet to find that gel douche that has that certain je ne sais pas. After all, I am conservative fellow. These commercials for Axe Body Wash are intriguing in prurient sort of way, but I don’t need to attract young women with Chinese tattoos they cannot read.

I need something solid, stable, yet invigorating like a night stick deployed against a hippie refuses to comply with legal requests.

I think I’ve found it. My father was an old spice man. And I’m loyal to the brand, if not necessarily the cologne/bathroom-comb-disinfectant. And so when I saw Old Spice Swagger body wash, I had to take a look. Here’s what it says on the back label (and I’m not making this up):

“Swagger body wash from Old Spice is for the man who holds the complete works of Aristotle in one hand, and a delicious sandwich in the other. Swagger’s subtle scent transforms your skin to feel like a smooth and hydrated playing field where confidence scores the winning touchdown.”

Until now.