I'll be testing them on my cheeckbones and neck, because I've decided to do the opposite of Mo' Shave November, and grow a beard for Xmas. The beard's eventual removal might leave me soft and vulnerable to nicks on my chin, but I want to see if I can thicken the stratum corneum, for better texture, by letting the skin replace its cells under zero stress. Then, I will severely restrict the glycerin from soap, as outlined in the previous post. A moon face will brighten my New Year, as sure as the bald spot reorganizing on my crown. Though it feels almost as velvety as the rest of my head, and I'm not giving up, I can easily see the lack of density.
Fine Green Vetiver
I don't know anything about vetiver -- I read that it's a fragrant grass, but who knows what other fragrances are in this soap. It's an integral accord, with an odor I would describe as archetypal. I can't directly recall any personal contact with this scent, yet it is exactly what I would expect fancy soap to smell like. A decidedly soapy smell. To pair it with a visual form, this is what I would expect the shaving soap from Vermont Country Store to smell like. I don't feel like I have to seek out De Vergulde Hand anymore, either. (Do comment with comparisons, if you happen to own either.)
The lather doesn't invoke the same chemical magic as Tabac, which once again seems accidentally related to that soap's relatively controversial fragrance. But Fine is technically enhanced somehow. This stuff lathers into shaving cream, pure and simple. Man, if this had been my first soap, what a snob I would have become! You really can't see the bubbles, and there is no working up to it, either. Performance overall, I won't really know until I can pull a stroke longer than an inch. But it protected my neck well enough from a dull Cloud blade today, and was significantly gentler to my skin than Art of Shaving Sandalwood.
Which reminds me of my visit to AoS, and my impression of their Vetiver Citron cologne: "too refined for me." This soap is not. It's every bit as subdued, but it doesn't try to distinguish itself in any way. Definitely unisex. A rich man's Williams? There is no need to consider pairing with aftershave, unless you WANT to smell like soap, as this will duck out of the way, whatever you wear. I tried to dilute Eau De Quinine to where it could synergize, and still lost it. Fine Green Vetiver denies the reality of other, more exciting shaving soaps and just expects you to forsake them as false. As if it came from a time when no other shaving soaps existed, or God's own bathroom.
What the Puck?! It's Shaving Soap!
But other soaps do exist, and three very new, fresh ones were included in this order. From Fine Green Vetiver, up in God's bathroom, I came down to Earth with Razorock Lime Burst, a scent that can only be described as the best lime candy you never had.
This is just sniffing the puck, mind you. I'm actually afraid of this soap, unsure of what glycerin's position in the ingredient list, and the strong fragrance, means for my skin. "Triple milled"? A well-homogenized soap it is, but suspiciously, slightly translucent. Like candles I might not want to light. I'm really putting my faith in Italy, because it looks like Italian Barber turned around and exported something this time: everything they learned from How To Grow A Moustache. Smells like late adolescent spirit!
Lime is the one for me: my first favorite flavor as a kid, my first deodorant, my first shaving cream. The blue smells like hairspray to my nose, and not a man's -- but I do get the "barbershop." Orange is the smell of the Glade air freshener people once used to cover pot smoke in dorm bathrooms. Actually much better than that (strictly fruity, completely lacking the cinnamon), and a close contender for my trial, but after sniffing everything for like, 20 joy-filled minutes, it came down to associations.
I pushed this soap by making wet lather, wetter than the marketer meant it to be (judging by isntructions in the online product desciption, which I never had any intention of following). It performed a lot like Williams, that way; which is a good thing, to me. It's as flexible as Kiss My Face moisture shave, in this regard, but not as moisturizing; and with the strong scents, that's probably the best comparison I can make. I had a new Cloud, and my Slim set one notch too high, and nicked my neck in a previously bumped spot on my Adam's apple. I then turned it down, and got some skip on pick-ups. On the other hand, I appreciated how the low, yet undrying lather showed the cheek line of my beard.
This ought to be everyone's first hard puck. It takes a step back to the over-enthusiastic days of glycerin base, but doesn't go all the way. Coconut oil as balm, bay rum Witch Hazel splash, English Leather for dressing up: these are what I would send back through time, to my high-school dopp kit.
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