They Call Me "Mr. Dish-Pits"
I've made the annoying discovery that my deodorant smells like our dishwashing liquid. Let me explain.
I've made an effort to do the German thing in most life-ways and modes. I've bought the toothpaste, watch the German TV shows, and read German newspapers. It's all about becoming familiar with the material culture.
The only real concessions to America I've made in this material realm are baseball and deodorant. I mitigate the effects of the former by watching football (that's, ahem, soccer). But I've had a hard time giving up my Old Spice.
I've used it ever since I can remember needing it, except for one short-lived affair with Speed Stick in high school. As much as we like to deny the effects of our material culture, there is something indicative in the scents we choose. I use Old Spice for the same reason people vote Republican or root for the Falcons: my dad used it, it's what I was brought up on, and now I identify that smell as part of "me."
So, I've resisted buying German deodorant. However, I finally broke down and bought a spray-can of something Adidas-manufactured last week. It's horribly inadequate for the job of deodorizing, and has a strong smell that still seems alien to me. Of course, the reason it's so un-me is because it smells like dishwashing liquid.
I will not try to describe the smell, but it's embarassing to wander around all day smelling like clean dishes. (Although smelling like dirty dishes would, I admit, be much worse.) The only way to fix this, as I see it, is to quietly dispose of or sequestor the remainder of the dishwashing liquid until I run out of deodorant and can safely retreat back to my Old Spice.
I've made an effort to do the German thing in most life-ways and modes. I've bought the toothpaste, watch the German TV shows, and read German newspapers. It's all about becoming familiar with the material culture.
The only real concessions to America I've made in this material realm are baseball and deodorant. I mitigate the effects of the former by watching football (that's, ahem, soccer). But I've had a hard time giving up my Old Spice.
I've used it ever since I can remember needing it, except for one short-lived affair with Speed Stick in high school. As much as we like to deny the effects of our material culture, there is something indicative in the scents we choose. I use Old Spice for the same reason people vote Republican or root for the Falcons: my dad used it, it's what I was brought up on, and now I identify that smell as part of "me."
So, I've resisted buying German deodorant. However, I finally broke down and bought a spray-can of something Adidas-manufactured last week. It's horribly inadequate for the job of deodorizing, and has a strong smell that still seems alien to me. Of course, the reason it's so un-me is because it smells like dishwashing liquid.
I will not try to describe the smell, but it's embarassing to wander around all day smelling like clean dishes. (Although smelling like dirty dishes would, I admit, be much worse.) The only way to fix this, as I see it, is to quietly dispose of or sequestor the remainder of the dishwashing liquid until I run out of deodorant and can safely retreat back to my Old Spice.
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