It's A Man Thing!. Review on Old Spice

For some queer reason, the single most important factor responsible for young boys to realize their manliness completely and to understand their responsibilities fully is not the independence their parents give them or the trust they seem to put in them, but, astonishingly, the fact that now even they must take time out to shave. Vanity ad extremum!

Agreeably, the feeling of maturity is exciting and—having to go through it myself—the feeling of puberty even more so. It is in the human desire to attain completion in every respect thinkable that this pleasure has a source. And greater the feeling of puberty, greater the bubbling glee inside! In spite of it being an exasperating activity—which I come to realize now that I have to shave thrice a week already—the prospect of having to shave does in some way or the other invoke a sense of excitement in me and I am sure it does so in all other young men of my age. And I am also sure that despite the discomfort, every young woman feels a certain degree of satisfaction or pleasure (whatever it be) at the onset of her period… I cannot elaborate.

It is with this as a background that I must review Old Spice, an aftershave lotion.

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It occurred to me only last month, as I dabbed a swab of cotton to my cheek that was bleeding profusely and painfully, that I must now have an aftershave lotion to seal all the cuts and bruises that I can have while shaving. I assure you, shaving is a painful thing for a beginner, for if he shaves without the cream, his cheeks burn as though on fire. If he shaves with too much cream, he might shave more than he needs to. If he shaves (the amount of cream notwithstanding) he could cut himself at obscure places that bleed like crazy. And all this simply to make him look less like a grisly bear (and I assure you they still are the cutest things in the jungle).

Having realized the importance of applying a disinfectant to the face after shaving, I was prompt in, true to the word “son”, in appropriating my father’s bottle of aftershave—a white bottle that was semi-conical in shape, capped with a flimsy plastic stopper, containing a water-like liquid that had a strong fragrance of lime. And, like every overenthusiastic beginner, I poured out a cupped-hand full of it and splashed it on the face!

Oh my god, I swear by the name of all things beautiful and holy, it was a feeling that I pray I never have again! Holly, the burning sensation was superlative. I couldn’t keep myself from it, I screamed, even when I knew that every scream was about to make my father think I’ve shaved my ears off—hardly useable spectacle hanging appendages they are. But fortunately, he did not come to investigate, for if he had, he would have discovered my theft and then we would have had a not very enjoyable but certainly memorable father-son moment!

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It took me a very long while to adjust to my new aftershave lotion, particularly because I am almost always wont to eliminate every single content of my vanity bag (oh my God, I couldn’t find a word that sounds less gay. I don’t carry it with me, I promise). Finally, when I did adjust to Old Spice, I found that I actually had begun liking it. Let me be more objective in my analysis…

Fragrance

I like the Old Spice Lime essence and not the musk, simply because I shave with Palmolive Lime. May be the logic is circular—I didn’t take the other version of Palmolive because I had Old Spice Lime when I last went to replenish my stock of shaving accessories. Whatever be the case—I use lime. I have a liking to lime, to be frank, since lime happens to be Tina’s favourite color and Tina happens to be my favourite girl and girls happen to be boys’ favourite playthings… excuse me.

Old Spice has a strong smell that lasts long. By strong I don’t mean repulsive. There are some fragrances that have a sweet presence, that linger somewhat passively in the air and make the atmosphere pleasant. Strong fragrances have a noticeable presence, the wearer is easily identifiable and though the atmosphere does become a little more pleasant, there could be a snotty fellow who’d scoff at your “cheap youthful” tastes. I don’t think I’ll comment on them since a lot of strong fragrances can appeal to others and not to me, inevitably leading me to make similar remarks.

The point is that Old Spice has a strong fragrance that gives makes the person wearing it very easy to notice. Often, when I enter my class after I’ve shaved, a few of my friends take notice of it, and, more importantly, most of those friends are wearing tunics—you get my point?

Purposefulness

I believe that there isn’t any point in buying something just because girls notice you or because it smells good—unless it’s a perfume. We are talking of an aftershave, and unless it’s a good aftershave, it shouldn’t be purchased—why waste money on an aftershave just for the fragrance when you can pick up an Axe for around the same money?

Every time I cut myself here or there while shaving and applied Old Spice to it (apart from burning like hell), those cuts healed astonishingly fast. I haven’t bled much ever since I used Old Spice. Being sixteen and having to shave is a hazardous combination—your razor could find itself sliding painfully over pimples as well. That is why “not bleeding much” becomes so important, and Old Spice helped me a lot in it so far.

I am not sure if it’s correct, but the stronger the aftershave burns after applying it to the face, the better functioning it is—that is to say, the faster is it’s action as a coagulant. Old Spice burns like crazy (in fact, I’m not too far from writhing in agony for about two or three seconds of application just after shaving) which makes me believe it’s damn good.

All In All

There are two conclusions to this review. One, the conclusion that I intended to arrive at, is that Old Spice is a good aftershave that not only has good fragrance but also very good aftershave properties.

The second conclusion, the one I tried my level best not to arrive at, is that I am through a writer’s block. If you actually did reach this far in reading the review, I must thank you for bearing with me. I assure you; just now I have the feeling that this has been my stupidest review ever.

Doesn’t that just sound sixteen?