Decorative soaps and sundries

The BBQ Pit
1

In the name of all that is reasonable, sane, and good, can we please, at the earliest opportunity, eradicate decorative soap from the face of the Earth? For all time? A huge bonfire would be the most enjoyable method, but I’d settle for dumping them all in a landfill the size of Connecticut. In fact Connecticut itself might be perfectably suitable. I really don’t think I’m asking for too much – sacrificing Connecticut as a landfill – do you?

Now I don’t want to seem sexist (I mean, I might be sexist, but I certainly don’t want to seem that way) but decorative soap could only have been invented by women, and for women. No rational, practical man would have come up with such a fiendish hoax. To be sure, men can be cruel pranksters, but usually there’s at least some joy to be had in the prank. After the prank is deployed, somebody somewhere will be having a good sadistic laugh at the victim’s torment – if not the victim especially.

But there’s no joy for anyone when a poor schlub washes his hands in some loony woman’s bathroom, incurring shame and ignominy when he foolishly reaches for any old soap he sees without first checking whether it is soap qua soap, or is actually soap qua scenery. What an oaf! Were you raised by bears?! That was the decorative soap! Now look, you’ve ruined it. The soap you’re to use is this little white wafer here, lying on the white sinktop. How could you miss it?

And of course, wherever you find decorative soap, you’ll probably also find decorative towels. Just like the soaps, these aren’t meant for actual use, no matter how perfectly usable they seem. No matter that they’re hanging right there on a damn towel rack, on the wall next to the sink, just like bathroom towels everywhere. Oh no, think again Picard. The games have only just begun, and already you’ve failed your first two tests. Do you humans honestly think you’re ready to join the galaxy of civilizations?

(I have managed though to learn one thing in life. If a towel is monogrammed, it’s almost certainly decorative, and not to be used. And that’s because: the Towel that can be named is not the true Towel.)

I can understand the desire to decorate one’s bathroom. Well actually, come to think of it, no I can’t. Not in the slightest. It’s not something I would ever choose to do in a billion trillion years. But anyway I can empathize with the desire women have to go beyond the practical in life, and make their homes look “pretty”, whatever the hell that means to them. So fine, let’s decorate shall we? May I suggest some wallpaper in the bathroom, for pity’s sake? Or a vase of plastic flowers? A bowl of wax fruit, like the one you have in the kitchen? An art print on the wall? Carpet with a pattern in it perhaps? Some ornate Edwardian plumbing fixtures? A sexually explicit statuette? Or two?

No, that’s not really your thing, is it Madame? You’d much prefer false replicas of useful objects for your home. Play with your guests’ minds a little. Lay a few traps for them. Ho ho, quelle jolie! May I say that Madame has exquisite taste! This style, it has never gone out of fashion. For Madame, may I suggest …
[ul]
[li]… decorative fire extinguishers.[/li][li]… decorative band-aids. “Keep pressure on the wound, honey! I’ll go find you the real ones.”[/li][li]… decorative hot water. “Please, if you would, use only the cold.”[/li][li]… decorative light switches. Best of all, with your guests stuck in the dark, you can save on all further decorating.[/li][/ul]

But really ladies, if you are still unmoved by all this sarcasm, why not just go all the way and have an entirely decorative bathroom? When you give your guests a tour of the house, we can all stop by and admire the heart-stopping beauty of your artful bathroom “exhibit”. Especially the basket of pristine little soaps in there by the sink, and the lovely clean towels on the wall, and the shiney porcelain – all of it good as new and forever undesecrated by a human touch. Make sure you put one of those red velvet rope barriers across the doorway, so no one can bumble in during the night and soil the place.

Meanwhile, just show me where your real bathroom is, and I’ll be happy.

2

I, personally, am a lady… well a woman anyway… and I’ve never understood the decorative stuff either. The only soap in my bathroom is purely functional.

I am compelled to mention a great aunt and uncle of mine that the family used to visit when I was a kid. They had a lovely house. Nice main floor, lovely furniture, decorated and everything. But they didn’t live there. They actually lived downstairs and only came up to the fancy digs when company arrived.

So it could be worse.

3

If someone’s decorating their bathroom with decorative soap and decorative towels that are so valuable that they get upset when guests use them, perhaps they need to rethink what kind of priorities they are putting on decorative soap and towels. I have decorative soap and towels, and yes, they’re a little more expensive than everyday soap and towels, but it’s not like I spend $20 on a bar of soap or $50 on a hand towel. If someone uses the decorative stuff, big deal.

Which reminds me, I’m thinking of redoing my bathroom motif. :smiley:

4

Holy crap that was funny! And I must say, you do Q exceptionally well!
I once knew someone vaguely when I was a kid. I think it was a friend’s mother, or something. I remember washing my hands in their bathroom when I was about 3, and noticed the decorative soaps. Years later, when I was 10 or so, I found myself in their bathroom once again. And the very same soaps were there.

I don’t get it! I just don’t get it.

Thanks for a hilarious OP :slight_smile:

Max.

5

Decorative soap is brought to you by the same people who created those little mats in pastel colours intended for the base of the toilet. (I guess they’re there to catch errant drops of pee. Much easier to quickly clean up than lino or tile. Hey! Why not carpet the whole room?)

Not to mention fluffy toilet seat lid cozies, which serve to prevent the lid from remaining open. The best kind compress a bit when you put the lid up, and then slowly puff up again, so that the lid slams shut when you’re in the middle of your business, if you don’t know to dedicate one hand to keeping it in place the whole time. If they’re engineered perfectly, guests won’t know what is more embarrassing – pissing all over their host’s peach-coloured fluffy things, or the floor/the wall/their shoes/their pants as they reflexively leap to grab the falling lid.

6

Just tell me you didn’t use the decorative toilet paper. That’s a heirloom! :eek:

7

My stepmother has decorative soaps that’re probably older than I am and are still in the plastic she bought them in.

I try not to think about it.

8

Bytegeist next time you visit my mother please let me know!

9

That rant gets a 10 from the Bulgarian judges: understated, but bitingly savage. Well done, Bytegeist.

May I add frilly toilet roll cosies: why do you cosy your toilet paper? You don’t want it to get cold? Thoughtful, I suppose - you could put it in the hot water cupboard to spare your guests’ bums the horror of room temperature bogroll, but me, I’d rather have it on hand when it’s most needed.

You don’t want people to see it? Great steaming Christ, woman, I’m taking a dump - my sensibilities have been suitably innured to all aspects of human defecation without you needing to shroud the ablutionary necessities in an apricot nylon tutu. Just have the roll hanging where I can reach it, and I’ll be happy - and in the name of all that’s unholy, if you do steel yourself to doff the tutu, don’t fold up the edges. This is shitting, not origami class.

10

The loo paper foldage is so they know you crapped. That way they don’t have to chase you down to offer you an enema :smiley:

11

What makes you think they’d have to chase me?

12

Honest to goodness, this had me laughing aloud! I may make it into a cross-stitch sampler and hang it in the guest bath… above a monogrammed towel. If I had a monogrammed towel, which I don’t.

Thanks for brightening my morning!

13

Oh man, I hear you. I live with a crazy aunt who appears to collect soap. And it’s not even decorative. It’s just one entire shelf in a cabinet, filled with still-boxed soap. One has a copyright notice on it from 1976. I should really take a picture of this for you to get the idea. Oh, it’s all heavily perfumed, too, so that anything that goes in the cabinet comes out perfumed. I took a travel pack of Kleenex from there one day and noticed it was very fragrant when I actually put it to my nose!

Sigh. I use soap for washing.

14

Hey, don’t blame me. It’s not MY fault you all don’t use the fookin’ soap I put out. Sure, it’s pretty, but I don’t just put it out for looks, I put it out to be used. So fook off, use the goddamn stuff. I wouldn’t have put it out if I wanted to SAVE it.

15

It’s bad enough to force your guests to try to figure out which is the decorative soap and which is the real soap, but what about those bathrooms that only have the decorative soap!? How are you supposed to wash your hands? It makes me think that the hosts don’t wash their hands after using the bathroom, and don’t expect their guests to do so either.

But I’ve been seeing more fancy liquid soap dispensers lately than “decorative” bar soap. This is a most welcome development.

And what about those paper guest towels? I guess they were invented to save guests the worry about whether they’re supposed to use the decorative monogrammed towels. But these paper towels are so heavily printed with supposedly decorative designs that they don’t absorb anything. And besides, those things are expensive. I feel guilty about using them.

And speaking of monogrammed towels and such–my aunt has a set of super-starched and embroidered fingertip towels that are so prissy and fussy that you’d feel your nuts shrinking just by being in the same room as them. If you had nuts. Which I don’t. But you get the idea. Anyway, one day she complained to me that nobody ever used these guest towels!! “But,” I sputtered, “you’re not supposed to use the decorative towels!” “That’s what they’re there for!” She replied. I told her that nobody was going to use towels that obviously took hours to launder, starch, and iron. She thought that was just nutty–to her, it’s perfectly normal to spend hours ironing the guest towels. Then I asked her what one was supposed to do with the used towel. I mean, you can’t just put the wrinkly and damp towel back on the rack with its perfect bretheren, and there was no hamper in the bathroom to put it in. She was forced to admit that I had a point.

16

Have you tried using those things? I’ve yet to run across one that works up the least bit of lather. You might as well be using a stone.

17

Athena: Sure, it’s pretty, but I don’t just put it out for looks, I put it out to be used. So fook off, use the goddamn stuff. I wouldn’t have put it out if I wanted to SAVE it.

Damn straight. You gentlemen will all be relieved to hear that putting decorative thingies in bathrooms that mimic soaps and towels, but are not intended to be used as soaps and towels, is actually contrary to etiquette. Miss Manners has spoken very clearly on the subject of guest towels:

(Oh, and while we’re on the subject of Very Special items that deceitfully mimic ordinary items: Guys, the household rule is that when the person sorting the laundry encounters an item of clothing that’s worn to pieces, said item goes in the rag bag. Do not expect that person telepathically to recognize that said item is necessary to your continued happiness because it’s your college intramural baseball cap or the tour shirt of your favorite band from their concert twelve years ago or something like that.

If you care so deeply about this decaying clump of fiber, holes and rips and permanent sweat stains and all, then by all means put it away somewhere. Have it framed, get it bronzed, put it in a fucking safe deposit box, whatever makes you happy. But do not keep leaving this disgusting rag with ordinary, non-sacred clothing and expect it not to be treated like the disgusting rag it is.)

GB: Then I asked her what one was supposed to do with the used towel. I mean, you can’t just put the wrinkly and damp towel back on the rack with its perfect bretheren

Actually, that is exactly what you’re supposed to do with a used guest towel, no matter how prissy and fussy and embroidered its unused neighbors are, or how much it lowers their property values on the towel rack. See above link: when you finish using the guest towel, you put it back in an obviously used (crumpled) state, so the person who does the laundry will be able to tell that it’s used. If you know that used towels go in the hamper and you know where the hamper is, it’s thoughtful to toss it in there yourself, but otherwise you simply put it back where you found it.

18

Loved it! soap qua soap ** snorts repeatedly**

But I beg to differ on the art prints - the bathroom is a wonderful place to hang something, as long as humidity isn’t an issue. I knew a wealthy couple who had a small, simple, original Picasso sketch in their bathroom. Now that’s class!

19

Yeah, after all, if you have something that you want people really to look at free from distractions, what better place to hang it than right in front of the ol’ throne?

Around here the Dutch typically put calendars in their bathrooms. Seemed a little weird at first, but it’s actually a pretty good idea. You’ll always know what day it is!

20

I agree with ya. Except for this:

We don’t want yer goddamn soap.