It was a typical late afternoon: I was bringing Sasha home, and Sasha was resisting being brought home. The subway was crowded, and the air inside was stifling. I was dressed for the outdoor chill, but now, as I wrangled Sasha off the F-train floor, I was beginning to sweat. A lot.
By the time I got home, I had that thin, disgusting layer of perspiration coating my upper body. Not normally a problem—who but my wife and daughter would be smelling me that evening?
Well, this wasn’t a totally typical day. I had somewhere to be. Soon Jean would be coming home, and I’d be going out, and I definitely didn’t want to stink. But—no time for a shower! So, I whipped out a QwikShower Wipe™, which is basically a large moist towelette marketed to teens for use after gym class. (The company that makes them sent me a few for review. This is that review.) I wiped myself down, got dressed, and when I finally went out that night, none of my friends told me I stank. Maybe these wipes (tag line: Stop the Stink!) had worked! Or maybe my friends were just too polite.
Look, these things aren’t exactly easy to test, since I don’t have easy access to teenagers in gym class. (Particularly not since that unfortunate “incident” in Fort Lauderdale.) Also: These really are just big moist towelettes, with a not-unpleasant scent. What can we say about them?
Desperate for insight and lacking access to the damp, sweaty body of an actual teen, I turned to my officemate, Edith Zimmerman, editor of The Hairpin, who had recently experimented with a series of natural deodorants. (“Winners were determined not by actually winning but by being the side that smelled less terrible at the end of the day — I smelled bad 100% of the time.”) I handed her a QwikShower Wipe™ and eventually got this repsonse back:
OK, I’ve officially tried them, and they’re pretty good! Not amazing, but definitely better than nothing!!! They don’t leave a weird clinical/antiseptic afterscent either, which is nice. Just sort of a natural slight-to-significant improvement. But definitely not as strong as an actual shower.
“Definitely better than nothing!!!” A ringing endorsement, eh? Well, I figured I had to put them through a truly rigorous test. Could they handle the odor I produce after intensive exercise? (It’s reminiscent of an elderly person who hasn’t bathed in weeks.) If so, then surely QwikShower Wipes could cleanse the gently perspiring body of a nubile teen, fresh from a light fourth-period workout, her cheeks red with exertion…
Anyway, after many delays (the weather was terrible), I went for a nice long run in the desert of Palm Springs, California. Afterward, I wiped myself down with a Wipe and presented myself to Jean for inspection. She balked at sniffing my armpits, but admitted that I no longer stank. In fact, she said, “You smell really good.”
I may have smelled okay, but I felt disgusting. The thin layer of cleanser coated my still sweaty, dirty body like a used condom, and I rushed to the shower to get it all off me.
The verdict: If your teenage child perspires but mildly, these Wipes will probably work pretty well. Better than any other moist towelette? No idea. But if your kid sweats like me, a nearly middle-aged Semitic gentleman, then you’re better off investing in a CDC-level decontamination facility.
Paul Simon was right: these are the days of Miracle and Wonder.
I think this is the one thing I’d send to my adolescent self. “This is what your job is going to be someday. What do you think?”
Great little story but WHAT
sorry, What happened in fort lauderdale?
Ask my parole officer.