Splendid Isolation

I read this story about the redoubtable Martha Stewart with some interest:

Homemaking mogul Martha Stewart recently revealed that she’s been using the same exact container of liquid eyeliner for 15 to 20 years – and some experts are sounding the alarm over the practice.

In a new makeup tutorial, which she demonstrated for Allure, the 83-year-old admitted that she rotates through five tubes of the discontinued T. LeClerc liquid eyeliners.

In order to keep them looking good, Stewart shared that she just adds water to them, and they haven’t dried out – yet.

Let’s just ignore the usual panic-mongering of “experts” because fuck ’em:  Our Martha doesn’t seem to be suffering any harm, and she’s 83 years old, so she can do whatever the hell she wants.

I am more interested in the fact that T. LeClerc (whoever they are) discontinued the lady’s favorite makeup, despite her ringing endorsement thereof.  And if the star power of Martha Stewart can’t stop a beloved brand from disappearing of the shelves, what chance do we mere mortals have when it comes to our favorite products disappearing into the ether?  Why, none at all.

Here’s my own tale of woe.

I have been using the same brand of deodorant ever since I was old enough to start needing it, i.e. early adolescence (70 minus 13 equals 57 years of continuous, unbroken use).  This is it:

…taken from my purchase history at Amazon in 2021, when I last purchased a case of the stuff — because it had completely disappeared from all supermarket- and drugstore shelves.  I suspected it was going to be problematic to reorder it, hence my large purchase.

And of course, my gloomy prediction has indeed come to pass, because when I searched for it recently, I got this foul note:

Well, it won’t.  I’ve searched high and low, and it’s gone.

Some brief history of the brand is in order, before I continue.

Old Spice is one of those flagship brands, once manufactured by Shulton, and subsequently purchased by the loathsome Procter & Gamble company (may their little Cincinnati nostrils rot).  Old Spice is a remnant of the “heritage” brands;  almost uniquely among male toiletries, the research showed that it was the brand most likely to be purchased by young men adopting their father’s favorite.  Indeed, the Old Spice Classic deodorant and aftershave (the latter in that distinctive little white bottle with the gray press-in top) can still be found in stores, and it was my Dad’s aftershave, the only one I can remember him using — hence when it came time to buy deodorant and aftershave, it was the brand I first sampled.

Unfortunately, the Classic didn’t work for me — it was too pungent, and it didn’t smell the same on me as it did on my Dad (#DifferentPhysiology).  Even my Mom noticed the difference.  So I did the next thing:  I tried a variant — at the time the only variant — of Old Spice, and discovered the “Fresh” label.

It fit me like a glove:  smelled great, worked well (even with the dreaded Teenage Hormones) and — if I may be indiscreet for a moment — it played no small part in my youthful seductions.  I smelled good, always, and still do.

That may not last, however, because with the Classic Fresh having disappeared, I now have to try to find its replacement.  And to date, I can’t.

I must have tried every Old Spice variant — and there are now fucking dozens of them — on the market.

Fucking hell, what a shit show.

I’ve tried them all, but none smell good, in fact the reverse.  And for those Alert Readers who spotted the “Fresh” variant at the end of the second pic, it may actually be the worst of the lot:  oily, pungent and just foul.  They changed the formulation.

In its own small way, this is just a replica of the Coke / New Coke / Classic Coke marketing fuckup of the 1980s, except that P&G (may their armpits rot) are never going to reissue the Fresh variant in its original formula because #P&GAreAssholes.

And I’ve also tried some Brands Not Old Spice, with horrifying results.  Yeccchhh.  And this experimentation is expensive because of Bidenflation, where instead of just paying a few bucks for a stick of deodorant, nowadays one has to get a credit check first.

I know that in the grand scheme of things, the travails of some Elderly White Guy trying to find a decent replacement deodorant are indeed small potatoes.  But it still gets up my nose — literally, in many cases — that after over five decades of loyal use, some cunt in Marketing (aided and abetted by some cunt in Finance) has decided that my beloved product is no longer viable, and has tossed it into the trashcan of history, and me along with it.

I need to get to the range.