Feeling Minty Fresh
By: Greg Morago
April 10, 2002
I have not used deodorant for a week. I’ve pushed aside mouthwash,
foot sprays and body talcs, too. My signature cologne sits untouched on
my dresser. Though I have showered each day and brushed my teeth, no
odor-containing or odor-altering product has touched my skin. I’m living
the hygienic equivalent of going commando. Except for my little green
My little green pill is supposed to reduce body odors from the
inside. It’s a swallowable Mennen Speed Stick, a digestible can of
Lysol. The size of a Tylenol but the color of moss, my BodyMint pill
claims to reduce breath, underarm, foot and feminine odor (hey, what the
heck?) courtesy of chlorophyllin, derivative of chlorophyll.
BodyMint, which advertises itself as a “100 percent total-body
deodorant,” is the hot new commodity in the personal-grooming realm.
It’s flying off the shelves at pricey boutique stores such as Henri
Bendel in New York and Fred Segal in Los Angeles —two particularly
odiferous cities, where the rich and famous will go to any lengths to
smell like anything other than themselves.
Curious, I decided to forgo my usually rigorous daily hygiene
routines to test BodyMint for a week. For someone who, while neither
rich nor famous, will go to any length to smell like anything other than
himself, this was also a personal test of will. How could a little
green pill take the place of dozens of cleansing and grooming items to
which I’m slavishly devoted?
It was a week of living dangerously. It was a week I thought a lot about
smell (both its physical and psychological manifestations) while
contemplating the oddly diverse subjects of sweat glands, foot
perspirations, body image, pheromones, animal magnetism, flatulence,
Let me pop another green pill and tell you about it.
I was brought up believing that men smell, women don’t. Men are
stinky pigs, and women are dewy lilacs. Men can sweat all they want, but
women don’t. Sure, Dad and assorted uncles might smell like English
Leather and Aqua Velva in the morning, but it was only a temporary
curtain over the inevitable odors of armpit, beer, smoke, wet dog and
après-workout gym bag.
Which is why I started at a very young age to aggressively deodorize
myself. By the time I was a teenager, I could recite the pros and cons
of every smell-good product on the market. I did them all—from Old Spice
to Brut to Canoe. My body reeked, not of sweat but Palmolive, Vitalis
and British Sterling.
Today, I have graduated from dime-store after-shaves and odor eaters
to designer lathers and lotions. I have spent ridiculous sums–$24 for a
bar of Hermes soap, $28 for a Aqua di Parma deodorant—in my mad quest to
keep from smelling the way a man was meant to smell (like himself). On
the first day of eschewing all that, I swallow two BodyMints.
There are about 2 million sweat glands in the average human body, but
men sweat about 40 percent more than women. On Day 2 BodyMint, I can
detect no unpleasant odor. “Smell me!” I push my underarm into a
co-worker’s face. “You smell like starched shirt,” he says. I don’t
believe him. I ask another co-worker to smell the other pit. “You smell
clean,” she says.
On the third day without deodorant, I should smell somewhat unclean.
And yet, surprisingly, I don’t. Could BodyMint be working so effectively
from the inside? Well, it makes sense. After all, if you eat garlic,
your body gives off garlic fumes. So my little green pill is making me
smell, well, green? Clean green?
Today, on my fifth day of BodyMint, I have grown accustomed to one of
the little green pill’s curious side effects: green bowel movements.
BodyMint states on its label: “May cause stool to be greenish in color.”
Boy, and how!
I am only mildly worried that BodyMint, whose glowing statements of
success have not been evaluated by the U.S. Food and Drug
Administration, might be turning my insides green or worse. On my sixth
day with out using my roll-on, I am convinced that BodyMint is working
and that deodorants are useless. BodyMint, however, costs $20 a bottle
(a one-month supply). Sure, I could ditch my $2 stick deodorant, which
usually lasts me about three weeks. That’s about $35 a year I spend on
deodorant. BodyMint would cost me $240.
This, however, doesn’t make deodorant the automatic winner. I am a
product of the Jacqueline Susann generation; I love taking pills.
Popping a green doll is much more fun and glamorous than swiping a pasty
white stick back and forth over a hairy patch of skin.
Whatever. I am happy and, surprisingly, odorless.
DISCLAIMER BodyMint – USA, LLC’s
reproduction of the DEMOCRAT AND CHRONICLE article on its website is not
intended to suggest or imply any endorsement, sponsorship, approval,
affiliation, connection or other association by or between the owners
and publishers of DEMOCRAT AND CHRONICLE and BodyMint – USA and its