The case of the Weeping Soap
1 November 2007 05:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
igenlodeHaving been given a bag of assorted soap products from Lush (a.k.a. 'the smelly shop') as a present earlier this year, I was rash enough to go out and purchase with my own money a slice of their 'Sultana of Soap', a confection made to look exactly like nougat right down to the fruit and nuts embedded in its top. (This does seem to me to be going a little too far; one can't eat sultanas impregnated with soap, one can't wash with them, and as a result they just come off and float around in the bathwater. Generally they get scooped up before blocking the plughole and then sit in a little pile on the windowsill in a rather revolting way.)
Anyway, there was a sample sliver of this stuff in my 'gift pack', and I actually liked it much the best of all the products that were in fact included (even if my bedroom did end up with a tendency to smell like the proverbial bordello...), so I thought I would treat myself and buy a proper-sized slice.
I hadn't realised it was quite such sensitive stuff!
Every time I used it (and I've been having a few extra baths on Lush's account recently...) I left it on my windowsill to dry out overnight. But every morning I found it beaded with moisture; and over the course of several days unused, the droplets grew larger and larger, ran together into little puddles, and began to collect in a pool of scented oil beneath the bar. This was getting more than a little messy... and I could see my expensive un-birthday-present literally disappearing before my eyes, as it continued to weep away its vital essence.
Panicked, I went back to the shop and asked for advice. The assistant listened to my tale of woe and advised me that this particular soap was notoriously 'soft' and rich; if kept too warm or if not kept dry, it had a tendency to melt. This sounded like exactly what mine was busy doing!
In an unheated building, it seemed unlikely to me that the soap could possibly be getting hotter than it was in the shop. So in a quest to stop my Sultana of Soap from weeping, I tried extreme measures; the next time I used it I made sure to rinse away all the accumulated oil, disposed of the (by now highly soggy) wrapping, cut a piece of greaseproof paper from the larder, and put it in the warmest place I could find to dry out. Then, instead of leaving it on the cold windowsill for condensation to gather overnight, I wrapped it up securely and put it in the bottom of a stout paper bag at floor level.
A few days ago I ventured to investigate the results; complete success. The disintegration appeared to have been halted, and the slab was again as solid and creamy-white as when I had bought it in the shop. I wouldn't have to make haste to use it all up in a rush before it fell to bits!
But in future, for a more practical result, I plan to take a new approach. I'm going to cut off a wedge at a time — sufficient for four or five baths — and keep that in the makeshift plastic box I created to sit on the windowsill and restrain the perfume. That way, it won't get a chance to build up a 'critical mass' of essential oils, but will just sit there slightly beaded on the surface as it did before...
At least, that's what I plan to do just so soon as I have finished off the tester sliver of Snowflake soap I was given when I bought this last one, of course!
Anyway, there was a sample sliver of this stuff in my 'gift pack', and I actually liked it much the best of all the products that were in fact included (even if my bedroom did end up with a tendency to smell like the proverbial bordello...), so I thought I would treat myself and buy a proper-sized slice.
I hadn't realised it was quite such sensitive stuff!
Every time I used it (and I've been having a few extra baths on Lush's account recently...) I left it on my windowsill to dry out overnight. But every morning I found it beaded with moisture; and over the course of several days unused, the droplets grew larger and larger, ran together into little puddles, and began to collect in a pool of scented oil beneath the bar. This was getting more than a little messy... and I could see my expensive un-birthday-present literally disappearing before my eyes, as it continued to weep away its vital essence.
Panicked, I went back to the shop and asked for advice. The assistant listened to my tale of woe and advised me that this particular soap was notoriously 'soft' and rich; if kept too warm or if not kept dry, it had a tendency to melt. This sounded like exactly what mine was busy doing!
In an unheated building, it seemed unlikely to me that the soap could possibly be getting hotter than it was in the shop. So in a quest to stop my Sultana of Soap from weeping, I tried extreme measures; the next time I used it I made sure to rinse away all the accumulated oil, disposed of the (by now highly soggy) wrapping, cut a piece of greaseproof paper from the larder, and put it in the warmest place I could find to dry out. Then, instead of leaving it on the cold windowsill for condensation to gather overnight, I wrapped it up securely and put it in the bottom of a stout paper bag at floor level.
A few days ago I ventured to investigate the results; complete success. The disintegration appeared to have been halted, and the slab was again as solid and creamy-white as when I had bought it in the shop. I wouldn't have to make haste to use it all up in a rush before it fell to bits!
But in future, for a more practical result, I plan to take a new approach. I'm going to cut off a wedge at a time — sufficient for four or five baths — and keep that in the makeshift plastic box I created to sit on the windowsill and restrain the perfume. That way, it won't get a chance to build up a 'critical mass' of essential oils, but will just sit there slightly beaded on the surface as it did before...
At least, that's what I plan to do just so soon as I have finished off the tester sliver of Snowflake soap I was given when I bought this last one, of course!