Soaps and soothing milks, essential oils with lavender, jasmine and cedar wood. Epsom salts and moisturizers, some clay masks and a touch of Tahitian vanilla. There is a fine tuned art of pampering oneself that is often overlooked in the everyday hustle bustle. Often times, too, showering itself is neglected until the scent of body odor is so rancorous that the only remaining solution is soap and water. Many cases have been made recently for living a purposeful life and taking stock of what adds value and what doesn’t, using time wisely rather than things needlessly. In my view, the bathroom is a place for the same sort of deliberations.

In all my years of cohabiting with other people under the same roof, I’ve seen a great deal of lock looseners and defrizzers. My mother is a consummate user of Tresemme products, my father and brother like 2-in-1 hair products from Suave. Actually, if given the chance they would probably take it to be a 6-in-1 so they could use it on squeaky door hinges and wheat toast. My friend and colleague Shomari Tate does a co-wash once weekly, consisting of Cantu and Blue Magic mixed together and applied before tub time to rinse. For myself, recently I have been using Garnier Fructis shampoo and conditioner and only make minimal use of the shampoo so as not to dry out my ever more visible scalp.

The crème de la crème; body soap. How oneself washes up is intimate and personal, but I think there are general principles that can apply to nearly every situation. First things first; cover everything! Don’t leave a stone unturned or a crevasse neglected. The upper back is always hardest but I have found that during the rinse cycle, you can make use of the last of the suds and water flow to give it a passing glance if nothing else. Fervent debate circulates around which instrument to use for a shower. For bars of soap, the preferred tool would be the loofa. The body bar neatly slides in, it provides grit for scrubbing, and then can be undone and left to dry. Body washes are transferrable with wash cloths or scrubby sponges, with the latter providing more emulsion (bubbles). Antibacterial soaps are good if the skin is prone to blemishes, but can leave the skin dehydrated, which is not good for the dastardly season that is Winter. Multiple women have mentioned to me before that they like the way ‘for men’ soaps smell on their skin, whereas I have always preferred the more girly varieties. For that, we frequently return to scented and effervescent soaps like shea butter or coconut cream. Dove makes a great body wash that smells like pure ecstasy (cucumber and tea tree is the truth), but as of lately I’ve been using an unscented version for sensitive skin by Olay.

Now this may come as a surprise to some… well, I don’t know, maybe not. But, I have been known, in my time, to lift a few. A bottle of wine here, Manhattan’s there, beer with friends everywhere. There remains no greater indulgence than to take one’s preferred libation into the bathtub. What a marvelous thrill it really can be, having a spa day at home. For men, I suggest shower beers. Quick, easy, and efficient, just the way they like it. Ladies; you already know, I’m sure, that a glass of wine makes a hot bath even hotter. Lighting candles is a must if you’re going through all the trouble of drawing a bath, maybe even some incense, too. As the water flows and bubbles form, curate a playlist. Nothing drastic, something smooth and soulful. For myself, I always play one album and one album only when I’m going for a soak in the tub; the 1997 classic Baduizm by Erykah Badu. I found this piece of music at the end of a particularly harrowing day outside in the cold a few winters ago. I had returned to the quiet refuge of the bathroom. This was a grand master bath; marble floors with a huge shower and separate Jacuzzi tub. I shook up what must have been a mean dirty martini, and slipped out of my last remaining garments. As I lowered myself into the hot water, I smiled. I couldn’t help it; I was in heaven. ‘It really doesn’t get much better than this,’ I thought.

And that, my friends, was when I discovered the button to turn on the jets.

Discover (for) Yourself,

Daniel J. Neebes