{"id":274,"date":"2018-05-20T08:08:45","date_gmt":"2018-05-20T15:08:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/?p=274"},"modified":"2018-05-20T08:08:45","modified_gmt":"2018-05-20T15:08:45","slug":"our-pungent-history-sweat-perfume-and-the-scent-of-death","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/?p=274","title":{"rendered":"Our Pungent History: Sweat, Perfume, and the Scent of Death"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Hunter Oatman-Stanford\u00a0<\/a><\/span>\u2014\u00a0March 8th, 2016<\/span><\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\"mum-crop<\/p>\n

Consider the sweet, intoxicating smell of a rose: While it might seem\u00a0superficial, the bloom\u2019s lovely odor is\u00a0actually an evolutionary tactic meant to ensure the plant\u2019s survival by attracting pollinators from miles away. Since ancient times, the rose\u2019s aroma has also drawn people under its spell, becoming one of the most popular extracts for manufactured fragrances. Although\u00a0the function of these artificial scents has varied widely\u2014from incense for spiritual ceremonies to perfumes for fighting illness to products for enhancing sex appeal\u2014they\u2019ve all emphasized\u00a0a connection between good smells and good health, whether in the context of\u00a0religious salvation or physical hygiene.<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople felt that eliminating all these smells was the single most effective way to improve public health.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Over the last few millennia, as scientific knowledge\u00a0and social norms have fluctuated, what Westerners considered smelling \u201cgood\u201d\u00a0has changed drastically:\u00a0In today\u2019s highly deodorized world, where the notion of \u201cchemical sensitivity\u201d justifies bans on fragrance and our tolerance of natural\u00a0smells is ever diminishing, we assume that to be without smell is to be clean, wholesome, and pure. But throughout the long and pungent history of humanity, smelling healthy has been as\u00a0delightful as it has\u00a0disgusting.<\/p>\n

The desire to surround ourselves with ambrosial fragrances can be directly traced to the\u00a0unavoidably rank smell of unwashed humans, and to get to the root of body odor, you have to start with sweat. According to journalist\u00a0Sarah Everts<\/a>, who\u2019s conducted extensive research on the science of perspiration, human sweat by itself typically barely smells at all. \u201cThe problem is that bacteria living on our body like to eat some of the compounds that come out in our sweat,\u201d she says. Eccrine glands all over the body and apocrine glands found mostly in the armpit and genital areas secrete various compounds that are consumed by bacteria, which in turn release molecules with a smell we recognize as body odor. \u201cIn particular, it\u2019s one kind of bacteria called Corynebacterium, and they make a molecule which is really a top note of human body odor,\u201d Everts says. \u201cIt\u2019s called trans-3-methyl-2-hexenoic acid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Top:<\/p>\n

Top: A Mum deodorant advertisement from the 1920s captures the beginning of the modern deodorized era. Above: This Egyptian relief carving illustrates the making of lily perfume, circa 2500 B.C. Via\u00a0Wikimedia<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Of course, humans were unaware of such compounds throughout most of recorded history, which is why the first efforts to smell civilized consisted of smothering the odors with more favorable scents. \u201cThe ancient Egyptians applied concoctions made of ostrich eggs, tortoise shell, and gallnuts to help improve their personal body pong,\u201d Everts says. Fragrances made during this time were often worn on the head, neck, and wrists as thick pastes or oil-based salves incorporating ingredients from fragrant plants like cardamom, cassia, cinnamon, lemongrass, lily, myrrh, and rose. One of the most complex and well-known Egyptian perfumes was kyphi, a mixture made up of 16 ingredients that was used in religious ceremonies but also to treat lung, liver, and skin ailments.<\/p>\n

Besides direct application on the skin, Egyptians burned fragrances as incense and developed jewelry that incorporated scented materials, a tradition still practiced by cultures throughout northern Africa. Hieroglyphics also depict men and women wearing small cones above their wigs, which are believed to have been made of perfumed wax and animal fats.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/p>\n

A Roman perfume flask made from banded agate, circa late 1st century B.C.\u2013early 1st century A.D. Via\u00a0the\u00a0Metropolitan Museum of Art<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Today, we know that humans can smell\u00a0essential oils in extremely miniscule amounts\u2014early alchemists believed these concentrated extractions were a spiritual embodiment of nature, sort of like a plant\u2019s soul. For centuries, such botanical essences were distilled via two primary methods: \u201cmaceration,\u201d meaning plant material was pressed to remove oils and then ground into powders or pastes, or the more complicated method of \u201cenfleurage,\u201d in which leaves or petals were placed in a thin layer of fat, which absorbed the plant\u2019s essential oils.<\/p>\n

In ancient Greece and Rome, aromatic spices and\u00a0perfumes<\/a>\u00a0gained traction as coveted\u00a0luxury goods, spreading along trade routes between the Mediterranean and the Middle East. \u201cFrom the moment people start to trade internationally, migrate, and cross borders, you encounter references to foreign scents,\u201d says Jonathan Reinarz, a professor of medical history who published a book called\u00a0Past Scents: Historical Perspectives on Smell<\/a><\/em>\u00a0in 2014. \u201cTravel literature is saturated with references to smell. You can imagine in every new market that people entered in Africa or Europe or Asia, they\u2019d smell something they didn\u2019t recognize, but were nevertheless still quick to judge.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"John<\/a><\/p>\n

John Singer Sargent painted the Moroccan-inspired \u201cFumee d\u2019Ambre Gris,\u201d or \u201cSmoke of Ambergris,\u201d in 1880, long after the substance had become popular in the West for its aromatic qualities. Via the\u00a0Clark<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Though travelers often had instinctive negative reactions to such foreign smells, many exotic herbs were becoming desirable, stimulating a global scent market. The earliest known perfumeries date to the Roman Empire, a rare period when it was normal to bathe daily, both as a social custom and for religious purposes. Following a soak, the body was typically anointed with scented oils, and these salves were sometimes carried in small bottles tied around the wrist.<\/p>\n

Early\u00a0fragrance concoctions incorporated floral scents like jasmine, rose, iris, lavender, violet, or chamomile, as well as spicy smells from natural materials such as yellow amber, camphor, and cloves. Perfumes derived from animals included civet (from civet cats), musk (found in musk deer), or ambergris (a secretion of the sperm whale). As a bonus, these animal scents were also thought to be natural aphrodisiacs.<\/p>\n

Before the ability to suspend natural essences in alcohol, aromatic oils were prone to go rancid if not protected from heat, so most products were designed for immediate use by local customers. However, complex scents weren\u2019t only intended for applying directly to the body: Scented powders made from talc were carried within fabric sachets, hardened pastes were made into beads and worn as jewelry, and garments were sewn from fabrics steeped in perfume.<\/p>\n

By the 5th century A.D., scented oils and incense had become entwined with religious rituals across Europe, including those of Judaism and Christianity, even though\u00a0such indulgences were\u00a0previously shunned for their Pagan roots. In part, the mixing of various social classes at public worship spaces meant that everyone brought their own particular smells, and incense helped to mask the God-fearing funk. \u201cIn Katherine Ashenburg\u2019s book,\u00a0The Dirt on Clean<\/a><\/em>, she\u00a0wrote that Catholic priests were so overwhelmed by the stench of their worshipers that they would avidly burn incense to counteract the worshipers\u2019 body odor,\u201d Everts says.<\/p>\n

Even while the\u00a0clergy\u00a0were exalting\u00a0religious incense,\u00a0they sometimes\u00a0derided perfume as a sinful, decadent indulgence. For several centuries, many Christians rejected bathing for its connection to the sin of pride or vanity, which explains, if only in part, why they were seen as dirty and malodorous by the rest of the developed world. \u201cWith the emergence of Christianity, the whole meaning of smell changes and the vocabulary expands,\u201d Reinarz says. \u201cThere were frequent references to the early saints with the devout often saying that, when these first martyrs died, their bodies had emitted fragrant scents. The problem, of course, is that when the scent industry started to develop, anybody could smell like a saint, so the religious language changed and instead of talking about the smell of a saint, people began to focus on detecting the false odors of sanctity\u2014since even the harlot or prostitute could now buy perfume and wear these \u2018sacred\u2019 scents.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Left,<\/p>\n

Left, a 17th-century jar inscribed with \u201cMesue\u2019s French Musked Lozenges of Aloes Wood\u201d (in Latin) held lozenges made from aloe wood, ambergris, and musk to be taken for health purposes and to freshen the breath. Via the\u00a0Wellcome Library, London<\/a>. Right, a 1785 painting of a Turkish bath by Jean-Jacques-Fran\u00e7ois Le Barbier.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

While Christians preferred not to wash (the ritual cleansing of hands and feet being a rare exception), Islamic communities kept the tradition of bathing alive and well. In the eastern part of the Byzantine Empire, Roman bathing customs evolved into the\u00a0hamam<\/em>, or Turkish bath. Around the 11th century, the return of Crusaders brought the\u00a0hamam<\/em>\u00a0tradition back to Europe along with scented treasures like musk and civet.<\/p>\n

At the time, most household soaps were rough and smelled like the ash and animal fats they were made from, so were rarely used on the skin. But during\u00a0the medieval period, Middle Eastern inventors developed better formulas incorporating vegetable oils that were more gentle on the body, and soap-making\u00a0became the primary\u00a0application for perfumes.<\/p>\n

By the 13th century, chemists had mastered the art of distilling, whereby a natural specimen is boiled along with water and the evaporating substance\u2014a combination of water and essential oils\u2014is captured and separated during the cooling process. Inventors combined these essential oils with alcohol to create the stable, quick-drying perfume that we know today. The first major alcohol-based fragrance was a late 14th-century rosemary perfume known as Hungary Water, since it was designed for Queen Elizabeth of Hungary.<\/p>\n

\"This<\/a><\/p>\n

This woodcut engraving from the mid-16th century depicts the process of distilling essential oils from plants with a conical condenser. Via the\u00a0Wellcome Library, London<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

By this time, most of Europe\u2019s public bathhouses had been closed due to the bubonic plague, which killed more than a third of the population. Without a scientific understanding of germs, people believed that diseases like the plague were contagious through the air. \u201cBefore germ theory, there was the widely held belief in miasma or malaria,\u201d which Reinarz says described unhealthy or disease-causing odors. \u201cToday, of course, we associate malaria with a specific disease, but if you take the literal Latin translation \u2018mal-aria,\u2019 it\u2019s bad air, which was thought to impact dramatically on people\u2019s health and even create epidemics.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"The<\/a><\/p>\n

The distinctive beaked mask worn by plague doctors was filled with aromatic substances supposed to prevent them from catching the illness, as seen in this illustration, circa 1656. Via Wikimedia.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Thus the stinking smell of sickness was fought with the sweet scent of other aromatics. \u201cSpecific diseases, like plague, believed to be conveyed by impure or corrupt air were frequently countered by building bonfires in public spaces and, in private, by burning incense or inhaling perfumes such as rose and musk,\u201d Reinarz says. Doctors tending patients with the plague adopted a\u00a0gas-mask style facial covering with a curved beak over the nose and mouth containing sweet-smelling substances to ward off the disease. Small bouquets of herbs and flowers called posies,\u00a0nosegays, or tussie-mussies became popular accessories carried to overcome the stench of death.<\/p>\n

In their book,\u00a0Aroma: The Cultural History of Smell<\/a><\/em>, Constance Classen, David Howes, and Anthony Synnott detail other fragrant methods used to protect one\u2019s health: \u201cMunicipal authorities had bonfires of aromatic woods burnt in the streets to purify the atmosphere. Individuals fumigated their homes with, among other things, incense, juniper, laurel, rosemary, vinegar, and gunpowder. Even burning old shoes was thought to help, while, for added olfactory protection, some families kept a goat in the house.\u201d<\/p>\n

Today, we know that some of the odors used to overpower this miasma of illness were unhealthy pollutants, like the coal smoke of 18th and 19th centuries. \u201cCoal burning was seen as an antidote to all the bad smells that accumulated in urban centers,\u201d Reinarz says. \u201cPeople at the time more likely thought, \u2018Thank goodness we live in a manufacturing city where all of these chimneys belching out smoke are disinfecting the air.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\"A<\/p>\n

A tiny, ornately decorated scent bottle meant for carrying on a chain, circa 16th century. Via the\u00a0Museum of London<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Meanwhile, the true antidote to major epidemics\u2014better hygiene via bathing and handwashing\u2014was unattainable\u00a0as long as most Europeans believed that bathing was dangerous to one\u2019s health. In the 15th and 16th centuries, prominent scientists helped spread the falsehood that water\u2019s ability to soften skin and open pores actually weakened the flesh, making it more susceptible to the foul smells of sickness. With this in mind, the few who did bathe regularly often took special precautions, like anointing the body with oil and wrapping themselves in a scented cloth immediately afterward.<\/p>\n

Instead, layers of linen clothing and undergarments were thought to cleanse the body by absorbing its oils and smells, and clothing was believed to be\u00a0much safer to wash than the skin. Hair could be rubbed with aromatic powders and bad breath was improved by chewing pungent herbs.<\/p>\n

With its growing wealth and powerful trading ties to the East, Venice led Europe in the adoption of perfumed goods, especially devices to be carried or worn on the body that would mask unseemly odors. One popular form was the\u00a0pomander<\/a>, a word that came from the French phrase \u201cpomme d\u2019ambre\u201d or \u201capple of amber,\u201d referring to the ambergris often contained in the spherical pendants. While the original pomanders were simply fruits like oranges studded with cloves, the term eventually described a pendant made from precious metals\u00a0with several small\u00a0compartments for different fragrances.<\/p>\n

\"This<\/p>\n

This spherical pomander opens into separate compartments for different scents, circa early 17th century. Via the\u00a0Victoria & Albert Museum<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

As animal essences fell out of favor and more refined herbal or floral scents became trendy, France came to dominate the international perfume industry. One of its most popular fragrances was Eau du Cologne, a recipe originally produced as protection against the plague, which included rosemary and citrus essences suspended in a grape-based spirit.<\/p>\n

In the 17th and 18th centuries, the French aristocracy took perfumery to a new level, installing\u00a0scented fountains at their dinner parties and making their own custom essences, sometimes wearing\u00a0a different perfume each day of the week. In France, perfume also became closely linked with leather goods, as tanneries used them to cover the strong odors of chemicals used in the tanning process. Leather gloves infused with Neroli, an orange-blossom fragrance, were one of the country\u2019s most successful products.<\/p>\n

Small scent boxes designed to hold liquid perfumes eventually replaced pomanders as the fragrant accessory of the moment. Called \u201csmelling boxes,\u201d \u201cpouncet boxes,\u201d and, later, \u201cvinaigrettes<\/a>,\u201d these decorative perforated cases held small sponges or fabric swatches soaked with alcohol- or vinegar-based fragrances hailed for their medicinal qualities, which worked to defend against unpleasant odors encountered on city streets. Other vinaigrettes contained a mixture of smelling salts, an ammonia-based inhalant used since ancient times to revive people who were feeling faint.<\/p>\n

\"An<\/p>\n

An agate-topped silver vinaigrette with an engraved interior grill, circa 1857.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

In the late 18th century, vinaigrettes were often attached to chatelaines, which held utilitarian objects from small chains and typically attached at the waist of a woman\u2019s dress. While not as popular, other forms of jewelry were also adapted to the perfume craze, including necklaces with pendant flacons of liquid fragrance and perfume rings with tiny hidden compartments for storing scented powders or pastes.<\/p>\n

Yet even with access to all manner of perfumes, wealthy people often still stunk. \u201cDescriptions of Versailles by a lot of people visiting the court of Louis XVI and his bride Marie Antoinette just before the revolution are really striking,\u201d Reinarz says. \u201cThey described it as a stinking cesspit where everyone was relieving themselves in the corridors and even the ballrooms.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"This<\/p>\n

This 1866 political cartoon by George John Pinwell plays on epidemiologist John Snow\u2019s work linking London cholera outbreaks to contaminated water.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

During the French Revolution, clothing styles shifted towards simpler silhouettes, fewer layers, and lighter fabrics made from cotton, which could also be more easily washed.\u00a0Bathing had finally come back in vogue, as doctors now believed that accumulated filth prevented the body from releasing corrupt fluids. Despite concerns of sexual impropriety, bidets began appearing in the homes of the wealthy. By the end of the 18th century, chemists had also developed a way to produce soap using soda ash made from salt, avoiding the use of timber ash and resulting in soaps that were harder, milder, and less offensive-smelling. Meanwhile, steamboat trade allowed the soap market to expand and made it easier to import olive-oil-based soaps.<\/p>\n

Outbreaks of cholera in the mid-1800s, like\u00a0the 1854 London epidemic studied by Dr. John Snow, pointed to the importance of clean water and inspired cities across Europe to improve their sanitation practices by expanding access to fresh water, systemizing garbage disposal, and constructing new sewer systems to remove excrement, which were particularly beneficial to the lower classes. Some also focused their efforts on building new public baths, as was encouraged by\u00a0Britain\u2019s Baths and Washhouses Act of 1846.<\/p>\n

As better\u00a0hygienic practices took over, strong perfumes were no longer essential to combat stench, and their association with the aristocracy was becoming\u00a0a hindrance to sales; the industry thus aligned itself more with fashion.\u00a0When perfumes moved from the pharmacy to the cosmetics counter, their use was increasingly linked with the feminine, especially as Victorian-era notions about separate spheres for each gender took hold of Western society. While some scents, like tobacco and pine, remained connected to popular ideas of masculinity, the general concept of good smell was increasingly associated with the world of women. The cultural fervor for celebrated male explorers and scientists meant that Victorians\u00a0placed a higher value on sight than the other senses. \u201cSmell, in turn, was now considered the sense of intuition and sentiment, of homemaking and seduction, all of which were associated with women,\u201d explain Classen, Howes, and Synnott in\u00a0Aroma<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"Perfume<\/p>\n

Perfume was positioned as a feminine cosmetic by the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, as seen in this 1901 advertisement for Parfumerie Violet by Louis Th\u00e9ophile Hingre.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

In the 1860s, Louis Pasteur first demonstrated the relationship between tiny microorganisms and infectious disease, work that Robert Koch expanded upon in the 1880s. Their research would establish what\u2019s now known as \u201cgerm theory,\u201d furthering development of antiseptics by doctors like Joseph Lister who advocated carbolic acid as a disinfectant for wounds and surgery. This represented a huge shift in thinking about illness and gave further support to the movement for better sanitation, which continued to reduce the olfactory assault of urban areas. Foul smells, whether from human waste or industrial byproducts, were increasingly pushed further from cities via zoning policies and waste management.<\/p>\n

Americans had been as reluctant to bathe as Europeans, but by the late 19th century, the United States leapt toward the eradication of dirt and smells, adopting novel cleaning devices like showers and toothbrushes, which were supported by the latest studies on hygiene. In her book,\u00a0The Dirt on Clean<\/a><\/em>, Katherine Ashenburg points out that America\u2019s clean regime was also made possible by the young country\u2019s abundant space. \u201cWater mains and sewers were more easily installed in new cities than in ancient ones,\u201d she writes. \u201cWith abundant, cheap land, houses with ample space for bathrooms became the domestic norm, in contrast to Europe\u2019s old, crowded apartments. Because servants were always in short supply in democratic America, labor-saving devices were prized. High on the list was plumbing, and from the 1870s, American plumbing outstripped that of every other country.\u201d<\/p>\n

Modern economies like that of the United States depended on an\u00a0increasingly urban population, and as more people lived and worked in close quarters with others, body odor became a social issue. Unlike farm fields, offices and factories provided no respite from the trans-3-methyl-2-hexenoic acid emanating from your sweaty colleague.<\/p>\n

\"Antiseptics<\/p>\n

Antiseptics like Listerine caught on as a way to prevent infection, but were eventually applied to specific areas of the human body, including the mouth, armpit, and genitals. The ad above is from 1917.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cDoctors were already using antiseptics to clean their tools and benches,\u201d Everts says. \u201cAfter they\u2019d finished washing a whole bunch of surfaces, they started looking for new surfaces to wash, and why not the armpit? In fact, the earliest deodorant patent I\u2019ve tracked down was given to a doctor in 1867 for ammonium chloride. Even in the patent he writes that this was a known disinfectant, and that it has \u2018great value in counteracting the odor of the human body.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

The earliest successful brand of commercial deodorant was developed in 1888 by an inventor in Philadelphia and dubbed Mum, as in \u201ckeeping silent\u201d or \u201cmum\u2019s the word.\u201d The first patented version of Mum was sold as a waxy cream\u00a0that\u00a0quickly inspired imitations, but these cumbersome\u00a0products were unpleasant to apply and often left a greasy residue on clothing. In 1903, Everdry introduced the world\u2019s first antiperspirant, which used aluminum chloride to clog pores and block sweat. Regardless of their success at preventing sweating, early antiperspirants were also highly acidic, meaning they often damaged clothing and left the wearer with a stinging or itching sensation. Despite their unappealing format, many early deodorants and antiperspirants included perfumes to minimize their chemical scents.<\/p>\n

In the early 20th century, American marketers were also creating new standards\u00a0of personal hygiene, like\u00a0the importance of bathing daily\u00a0to eliminate odors, with the ultimate goal\u00a0of selling more\u00a0products. In 1927, the Association of American Soap and Glycerine Producers created a lobbying arm called the Cleanliness Institute to\u00a0publish marketing materials under the guise of education. The Institute distributed teacher\u2019s curriculum, posters, and books, like 1928\u2019s\u00a0A Tale of Soap and Water: The Historical Progress of Cleanliness<\/a><\/em>, which taught children and teens the value of hygiene throughout the ages. \u201cMost of us want the good and beautiful and worthwhile things of life,\u201d the book explained. \u201cSoap and water alone cannot give them to us, but we know that they help.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"In<\/p>\n

In 1928, \u201cA Tale of Soap and Water\u201d spread the good word of the soap and glycerine industry to schoolchildren via illustrations like this.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Although\u00a0doctors\u00a0had supported better sanitation to improve public health and\u00a0curb major epidemics, companies now exploited this\u00a0authority, using it to vilify normal\u00a0bodily functions, like sweating. Early in the 20th\u00a0century, a Cincinnati surgeon wanted his hands sweat-free while operating, so he invented an antiperspirant called Odo-Ro-No. In 1912, his daughter Edna Murphey hired an ad agency to boost the company\u2019s sales, and their first successful ad positioned excessive sweating as a medical disorder with a doctor\u2019s endorsement of Odo-Ro-No.\u00a0A few years later, the company tried a new tack: Convincing self-conscious women that their body odor (which it dubbed \u201cB.O.\u201d for short) was a problem nobody would directly tell them about.<\/p>\n

\"American<\/a><\/p>\n

American marketers played on insecurities to make deodorant a must-have product, like with this Odo-Ro-No ad from 1939.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Odo-Ro-No helped launch a trend of advertising-by-fear, sometimes known as \u201cwhisper copy,\u201d which focused on gossip around topics considered impolite to address in public. Similar campaigns were soon waged against every imaginable imperfection, whether it was flawed makeup, gray hair, torn stockings, acne, underarm hair, bad breath (strictly using the clinical-sounding term\u00a0\u201chalitosis,\u201d so as not to offend), or the ultimate\u2014bad \u201cfeminine hygiene.\u201d\u00a0To describe the \u201clife-destroying\u201d impact of bad breath, an oral antiseptic brand called Listerine (after Dr. Lister) coined the ubiquitous phrase, \u201cOften a bridesmaid, but never a bride.\u201d<\/p>\n

During the 1920s, brands like Lysol began promoting disinfectant douches\u2014long believed to be an abortifacient\u2014as a way to keep women\u2019s privates smelling fresh. Eventually, doctors recognized that douching actually disrupted the body\u2019s natural pH balance, causing a number of health issues.<\/p>\n

By the 1930s, American deodorant companies had secured a female customer base, so they began including subtle advertising copy referencing\u00a0men\u2019s body odor. In 1935, Top-Flite, the first deodorant targeted at\u00a0men, hit store shelves in its sleek black bottle, followed by other stereotypically male designs, like the Seaforth bottle resembling a miniature whiskey jug. Advertisements for men\u2019s deodorant products often focused on financial insecurities, positing that foul body odors might ruin one\u2019s career.<\/p>\n

Just as manufacturers had gendered\u00a0deodorant, fragrance companies developed their own parallel language for men\u2019s products, using terms like cologne, aftershave, and eau de toilette. Scents for men focused on the enhancement of sexual attraction with \u201cmasculine\u201d names like Brut, Centaur, Dante, Old Spice, Macho, English Leather, and Denim.<\/p>\n

At this point, manufactured\u00a0scents were no longer bound to the natural world of essential oils, as chemists developed entirely new man-made compounds. \u201cToday, we\u2019re familiar with abstract, man-made scents like Chanel No. 5,\u201d Reinarz says. \u201cBut people who first smelled that perfume in 1921 must have thought, \u2018What a bizarre flower,\u2019 because the tradition was distilling from nature, and most scents could be identified by naming a single floral ingredient.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"During<\/p>\n

During the 20th century, deodorant companies marketed many damaging products as healthy, like the spray seen in this 1969 ad.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Meanwhile, the\u00a0delivery method of deodorant was shifting\u00a0from messy creams to more pleasant roll-on sticks, like the 1940s applicator developed by Mum employee Helen Diserens based on the design of a\u00a0ballpoint pen. In the early 1960s, Gillette introduced Right Guard, the first aerosol antiperspirant. Despite a brief heyday, aerosols lost favor when the FDA banned aluminum zirconium complexes in 1977 and the EPA restricted chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) in 1978, stemming from\u00a0concerns for consumer and environmental safety.<\/p>\n

In the 1960s, a Swiss company invented a deodorizing spray for female genitalia, adding a layer of specificity to the coy concern of \u201cfeminine hygiene.\u201d The first American version, named FDS for \u201cfeminine hygiene deodorant spray,\u201d launched\u00a0in 1966 and quickly became a hit. Though the sprays fell out of fashion after an FDA ban on hexachlorophene in the 1970s, scented \u201cfeminine wipes\u201d are just as popular today.<\/p>\n

As with many products before them, advertisers continue to convince women that their natural odor is repellant, and they need to perfume their privates to get laid. Meanwhile, such\u00a0companies are\u00a0still suppressing\u00a0information about\u00a0the dangerous side effects of their\u00a0products, as seen with\u00a0the recent Johnson & Johnson lawsuit over\u00a0talcum powder<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\u201cOnce the ball started rolling, there was no stopping it,\u201d Reinarz says. \u201cPeople felt that eliminating all these smells was the single most effective way to improve public health and make the environment more tolerable for everyone.\u201d\u00a0Today, we\u2019re bombarded with a cornucopia of deodorants, antiperspirants, soaps, colognes, perfumes, and douches, all aiming to eradicate smells associated with the human body\u2014even if those odors are\u00a0the result of healthy processes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think my favorite weird\u00a0patent was based on baker\u2019s yeast,\u201d Everts says. \u201cI just don\u2019t think I\u2019d want to put baker\u2019s yeast in my armpit.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Hunter Oatman-Stanford\u00a0\u2014\u00a0March 8th, 2016 Consider the sweet, intoxicating smell of a rose: While it might seem\u00a0superficial, the bloom\u2019s lovely odor is\u00a0actually an evolutionary tactic meant to ensure the plant\u2019s survival by attracting pollinators from miles away. Since ancient times, … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[16,33,5],"tags":[42,19,38,27,35,22,39,17],"class_list":["post-274","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-biology","category-fragrance","category-perfumery","tag-chemistry","tag-genetic","tag-history","tag-olfactory","tag-plants","tag-scent","tag-science","tag-smell"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/274","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=274"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/274\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":276,"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/274\/revisions\/276"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=274"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=274"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/panjora.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=274"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}