JAVA July:Aug 2018

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GIRL ON FARMER The Smell of Romance BY CELIA BERESFORD At what age did my armpits start to smell? I’m not sure, but I’d have to guess it was later than everyone else’s and I was jealous about it. I can safely say that whenever I did notice I was starting to smell, I did everything in my power to hide it from my mother, not because she was a shamer, but because the thought of discussing any sort of body issues mortified me. This mortification led to me inventing the double tank-top look during one summer when I was in middle school. Instead of telling my mom I needed a bra, I would double up tank tops in hopes that no one would notice that my boobs were actually just pointy nipples. This was the same summer that I enviously noticed Jan Brimmer’s armpit hair at a pool party. I assume her pits had already started to smell. For me, most puberty-related things come with some dose of shame, or at the very least, secrecy. I never felt bad or dirty about what was happening to my body, but I definitely planned to hide it from my family and flaunt it to my girlfriends. And by flaunt, of course I mean let them know that I was also experiencing what they were. But I probably wasn’t, because, as I mentioned, I was a late bloomer. This led to a lot of making things up. It was handy that I had a variety of friend groups. I could take one girl’s period story and retell it as if it were my own, in the meantime cursing my own stubborn ovaries for holding out on me. But something like smelly armpits isn’t something you can manufacture. It starts and then there it is. I bet that most girls, eager to be older, start deodorant-ing before it is truly necessary. When I noticed that my friend Susan Waitt had deodorant on her dresser, I naturally decided I needed some. But I didn’t want to ask my mom, so I did the obvious, which was to steal hers. I didn’t have smelly pits yet, but the deodorant was more like a showpiece I would put on display when a friend came over. Other times it was hidden deep in my sock drawer so my brother wouldn’t see it and make fun of me. The deodorant was called Ban – just in case you didn’t get the message that you smell and it should be outlawed, this not-so-subtle name would leave you with no doubt. This was in the roll-on era, where you would roll a small, wet round ball all around under your armpit. It felt gross. 38 <strong>JAVA</strong> MAGAZINE
When I noticed that my friend Susan Waitt had deodorant on her dresser, I naturally decided I needed some. But I didn’t want to ask my mom, so I did the obvious, which was to steal hers. But where does this come from, this desire to cover up our body odors? Why do young girls inherently believe that armpit odor, smells their bodies naturally produce, is something that should be hidden and eliminated? Usually the thing that is covering it up just smells artificial. Young men are also conditioned to use deodorant, but the messaging there is that men are just too manly to handle, and the smell of their armpits needs to be kept in check to avoid a riotous outbreak of wet vaginas. With women it feels like the message is more targeted toward elimination, in an effort to stave off embarrassment and shame. Teens these days have a bazillion more products that they are barraged with, and they are assaulted by social media and sneaky advertising 24-7 with ways they can look and smell better. At a family party recently, I used a bathroom that two teenage girls share. There were products everywhere, but sitting on the back of the toilet was their deodorant. It was a svelte pink spray can of Secret. It promised to “eliminate” body odor. Just the word eliminate makes me think of an army general, with gritted teeth, planning to kill people. It’s so intense! We will annihilate that smell your dirty body is producing! On a softer note, the fragrance was called Paris Scent: Romantic. What exactly does Paris smell like? I’ve only visited once, but the smell of Paris didn’t stick with me, and I certainly didn’t take a deep whiff and think, “Mmm, romance!” Maybe croissants and baguettes or cheese and coffee? But this deodorant smelled nothing like any of those delicious things. I sprayed it after I went to the bathroom, and it smelled like stuffy bathrooms and baby powder. Coincidentally, exactly the smell that I associate with those sprays designed and marketed to cover up the smell of poop. So, I guess what I learned is that romance smells like toilet spray, and instead of having body odor, it is preferential to smell like a bathroom, post poo. It’s been years since I’ve worn real deodorant. I’ve got some hippy sticks that work, kind of, but mostly they mellow things out when my pits get particularly smelly. And even then, I only really use it when the smell will possibly interfere with my engagements in the adult world. But the essence of a human scent is still there – it hasn’t been eliminated. It may not smell like a romantic toilet in Paris, but I prefer it that way. That’s my Secret.
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