You Stink!

You Stink!

By Patrick F. Cannon

I think I must have been 12 or 13 years old when my mother suggested I start using an underarm deodorant. In the summer, my brother Pete and I played baseball almost every day, with a bit of basketball thrown in. We both played “midget” football for the McKeesport (PA) “Little Tigers” in the fall. In high school, he concentrated on baseball, and me on football. Although we bathed regularly, we started to have what was then called B.O. (for body odor).

            Once I started using deodorant, I noticed those who didn’t. McKeesport High School was the only one in a city (then) of some 65,000 people. Every social class was included, from the children of laborers to the more favored boys and girls of the upper middle class. If you were in a classroom with 30 of your fellow scholars, there was a kind of background odor, which seemed to lessen as the years passed. I suspect this had something to do with  the rise of television, and the relentless commercials for deodorants and bad breath mints and potions.

            When the Army shipped me off to France in 1961,   I discovered that the average French person hadn’t gotten the message. Not only did body odor permeate the atmosphere, but I was amazed to see girls with hairy underarms, and even the occasional hairy leg! In the good old US of A, you had to go to the hidden hollows of Appalachia or some other place in the back of beyond to find hairy lasses. (Nowadays, not shaving your underarms and legs is a badge of honor for some feminists.)

            Over the years, I have returned to France several times, and over time the natural human smells have all but disappeared. If you watch French TV, you are likely to find the same “personal care” products advertised that one sees here. It makes riding the Metro much more pleasant.

            I mention this because I have noticed that banning underarm odor is simply no longer enough. Several months ago, a perky female doc started hawking a deodorant lotion meant for the entire body. You not only rub it under your arms, but everywhere else, including your “privates.”  By “privates,” I can only assume she means your genitals. Apparently, her product, Lume, was flying off the shelves, because major brands like Dove and Secret have entered the market. Recognizing that men can also be stinkers, Degree provides products for them.

            Speaking of hair, several months ago the “Grey Lady” of journalism, the New York Times reported on yet another personal grooming trend – shaving one’s privates. I checked this out and discovered that there are numerous products available to accomplish this, both mechanical shavers and specialty razors (it gives a whole new meaning to “I cut myself shaving”). I also discovered that there is no medical reason for doing it, just as there is no medical reason for shaving any other hair we seem meant to have.

            On the positive side, making all these products creates jobs here and around the world. And if we banish all human odors, including the stink that emanates from our politicians, it may help us better smell the roses.

Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon

3 thoughts on “You Stink!

  1. Inky dink, a bottle of ink……

    In the days before the invention of aerosol sprays that clogged your armpit pores, the sophisticated classes resorted to exotic perfumes to mask their animal-like scents. The French, whose noses were typically pointed upwards, were quick to adopt the custom. Napoleon and Josephine were big fans. What self-respecting French aristocrat would want to smell like a swimming pool locker room?

    The word perfume derives from the Latin per fumum, “from smoke,” as the ancient Mesopotamians burned fragrant wood in religious ceremonies. From the Latin word we get the French parfum, and Chanel No. 5. It also is the source of the Italian profumo, and the name of the British Secretary of War whose career went up in smoke under the fragrant charms of the young Christine Keeler when he was caught in flagrante:

    By all accounts she shaved her armpits.

    Perfume ads proliferate around the Christmas holidays. The ads are disturbingly bizarre, with gilt-dressed celebrity actresses immersed in various stages of dreamy, slow motion ecstasy. The ads for men’s scents seem to project fantasy images of men, as women are the ones who buy men’s perfumes. The ones I’ve sniffed don’t seem to be something I’d buy, but what do I know?

    My introduction to aftershave lotions and colognes (invented for men, it seems, by an Italian in the German city of Koln) was in the Sixties. Then college guys, hoping for a score, would splash on Old Spice, Canoe, English Leather, Brut, Aqua Velva (Pete Rose’s and my favorite at the time; was he chosen for the ad for his name?) and a few other more exotic brands. These replaced aftershaves like Witch Hazel and Bay Rum, which were supposed to heal skin after a daily scraping with what passed for safety razors in those days.

    Today’s aftershaves have advanced beyond the primitive alcohol-based ones. I use Cremo’s post shave balm, which lubricates the skin and has a cooling and tingling effect with a mild minty scent I don’t mind. (Their shaving cream is excellent, practically nick-proof, especially with their barber-grade razor.)

    Pete Rose would have liked it. Maybe John Profumo, too.

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    1. Fortunately, I have a fairly light beard, so I just use a bit of Dove face soap when I shave. I used to use Mennens after shave, but the thought of using cologne never occurred to me. At my age, luring the ladies is no longer an option!

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