We (Apparently) Stink

We stink. And badly so.

This is the inference I have drawn from so many TV commercials I have seen lately. Now, Joyce and I don't watch much TV. We do stream bits of "our" shows for about an hour before Lights Out, and, during supper, we customarily stream the previous day's The Daily Show. That's about it.

And it's then--at supper, on The Daily Show--that we see repetitive ads for products that will make us smell better--from sprays to use around the house (and in the car) to detergent pods to use (not eat) to other sorts of personal products that will make us less offensive to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in our presence.

There are at least two ads we've seen that feature mothers crinkling up their noses at the smells in the house (and in the car). They're pretty funny, actually.

Companies have made vast fortunes by convincing us that, without them, we stink. Personal deodorant, perfume, after-shave, laundry products, sprays, things you plug in at home so the house won't smell like a stable. You know ...

But do we smell bad? I don't--of that I'm positive. Just ask ... well ... me.

But I also realize that throughout most of our species' history we have gone through our entire lives without products to make us smell better. I believe it was only when bathing became so difficult and onerous (think: the London of Henry VIII, etc.) that we began trying to replace our natural odor with something more pleasing to the noses of others.

I mean, if you had to carry buckets of water a mile or so from the polluted River Thames so that you and your family could bathe, how often would you do it? (And, of course, only the first bather got the benefits of the "fresh" Thames water; all subsequent users got the Thames plus the residue from the previous bathers.)

Most people in our country bathe at least once a day, I think. (I could be wrong--probably am.) But with frequent bathing, improved, of course, by scented soap and shampoo and body-wash and whatever, do we really need to splash on cologne and perfume afterward?

And besides--thinking in evolutionary fashion--didn't our "natural" smells attract rather than repel our distant ancestors, whose genes, of course, continue to have homes in us? If, say, a distant grandfather (one with twenty or so greats in front of it) reeked so badly, would my distant grandmother (one with twenty or so greats in front of it) have allowed herself to be ... seduced? Wouldn't she have wrinkled her nose and said, "Ugh!"?* Causing our family tree to wither, drop leaves, and die?

Now, of course, believing after decades of advertising that we all smell terrible, when we do smell someone's "natural" odor, we crinkle our noses and sprint for the Febreze. Ah, Progress!


*I'm not sure of this punctuation but am too lazy to check it.