Aromarant is a sturdy toffee-coloured block of deodorant much unlike Lush’s fragile pressed-powder Kryzstal deodorants: a propylene
glycol base generally gives it a slightly “wetter” consistency that’s easier to spread over the skin without chafing and irritation. Not to
mention, the burn and “brown pits” phenomenon that comes with the Kryzstal deodorants is pretty much a non-issue with Aromarant.
HOWEVER, while all is well on the application front when this deodorant is at its oily-surfaced best, depending on the batch you can
sometimes get stuck with what appears to be a moisture-free brick that is very difficult (if not next to impossible) to apply. My only
advice in such cases is to lightly wet the surface of your Aromarant truckle or to apply it to slightly damp underarms, though the
negative side effect of this can be a slightly goopy and/or sticky finish. And for even worse news, no matter the condition of your slice of
Aromarant, it owns an aromatic base of fresh lemon which is then beaten into submission by herbal infusions of astringent witchhazel,
antiseptic oakbark, and anti-toxin cleavers. These herbs all work quite well when it comes to soothing the skin, but when it comes to a
combined fragrance, they are an odour unto themselves, often reminding you of raw nuts stored in dirty socks with a light squeeze of
preservative lemon juice on top. And so, the result is to replace one noxious odour with another. Now rub salt into the wounds of
stinkification: Aromarant only has enough anti-bacterial strength to control underarm odour for a short while, and given its dense,
bogged down, herbal-dominated fragrance, once your own natural odours resurface, reapplication does little to mask anything.
Instead of replacing one odour with another, it now simply adds another dimension to what’s already there, sans any much-needed
note of added freshness. All told, as it turns out, Aromarant isn’t called “Aroma Rant” for nuthin’.
glycol base generally gives it a slightly “wetter” consistency that’s easier to spread over the skin without chafing and irritation. Not to
mention, the burn and “brown pits” phenomenon that comes with the Kryzstal deodorants is pretty much a non-issue with Aromarant.
HOWEVER, while all is well on the application front when this deodorant is at its oily-surfaced best, depending on the batch you can
sometimes get stuck with what appears to be a moisture-free brick that is very difficult (if not next to impossible) to apply. My only
advice in such cases is to lightly wet the surface of your Aromarant truckle or to apply it to slightly damp underarms, though the
negative side effect of this can be a slightly goopy and/or sticky finish. And for even worse news, no matter the condition of your slice of
Aromarant, it owns an aromatic base of fresh lemon which is then beaten into submission by herbal infusions of astringent witchhazel,
antiseptic oakbark, and anti-toxin cleavers. These herbs all work quite well when it comes to soothing the skin, but when it comes to a
combined fragrance, they are an odour unto themselves, often reminding you of raw nuts stored in dirty socks with a light squeeze of
preservative lemon juice on top. And so, the result is to replace one noxious odour with another. Now rub salt into the wounds of
stinkification: Aromarant only has enough anti-bacterial strength to control underarm odour for a short while, and given its dense,
bogged down, herbal-dominated fragrance, once your own natural odours resurface, reapplication does little to mask anything.
Instead of replacing one odour with another, it now simply adds another dimension to what’s already there, sans any much-needed
note of added freshness. All told, as it turns out, Aromarant isn’t called “Aroma Rant” for nuthin’.
Fuwari evidently means "lovely, kind, fluffy and gentle" in Japanese. If it also meant "fragile" (being that this solid deodorant's red base
rapidly crumbles away upon first use--if not sooner), I perhaps wouldn't be sniffing at the wicked irony so much. Unless you have
invincible armpits of steel, Fuwari's wreaked devastation will be gradual and progressive. Week one: all will be well. The grainy texture
of Fuwari might lead to some minor epidermal dehydration, but the sexy, sweet scent of ylang ylang, cassie, and vanilla will be so
stunning that you'll refuse to take heed of these initial red flags (long will they wave). Week two: you'll begin to notice an occasional
burning sensation as the day goes on. Before you know it, this burning will commence immediately after application -- even when you
haven't shaved beforehand, and without rubbing this solid deodorant bar directly onto your skin. (I figured I'd mention that, because I've
tried everything I can to ensure that how I apply Fuwari isn't the cause of these unfavourable symptoms.) Week three: your pits will
increasingly become red and inflamed, just before turning brown and itching like crazy at the four week mark. Scratch this brown skin
and you'll soon discover that the only "fluffy & gentle" thing about Fuwari is the snowfall of dead skin flakes that it leaves in its wake.
rapidly crumbles away upon first use--if not sooner), I perhaps wouldn't be sniffing at the wicked irony so much. Unless you have
invincible armpits of steel, Fuwari's wreaked devastation will be gradual and progressive. Week one: all will be well. The grainy texture
of Fuwari might lead to some minor epidermal dehydration, but the sexy, sweet scent of ylang ylang, cassie, and vanilla will be so
stunning that you'll refuse to take heed of these initial red flags (long will they wave). Week two: you'll begin to notice an occasional
burning sensation as the day goes on. Before you know it, this burning will commence immediately after application -- even when you
haven't shaved beforehand, and without rubbing this solid deodorant bar directly onto your skin. (I figured I'd mention that, because I've
tried everything I can to ensure that how I apply Fuwari isn't the cause of these unfavourable symptoms.) Week three: your pits will
increasingly become red and inflamed, just before turning brown and itching like crazy at the four week mark. Scratch this brown skin
and you'll soon discover that the only "fluffy & gentle" thing about Fuwari is the snowfall of dead skin flakes that it leaves in its wake.
Though the Lush Times often tells you that many of their deodorants are gentle enough for sensitive skin (when they're not), at least
they're honest about Kryzstal, informing you well in advance that this deodorant is supposed to be for the strongest, most insensitive of
armpits. And they ain't kidding. Think of it this way: when it comes to deodorants, what Lush calls "gentle" already requires steel
plated pits to be pleasantly effective. So you can imagine how strong your skin has to be to survive something they've already deemed
lethal. Me, being that I've been using Lush's Solid Deodorants for several months now (for the sake of giving them one last chance
before reviewing them), I am perhaps becoming immune to the burning (bar after post-shaving applications, in which case, OUCH!)
However, even this apparent immunity isn't enough to deter Kryzstal's potent lemon & lime oils from progressively turning armpits an
inflamed red, followed by an even darker brown (almost black) hue. And the same is not only true for those whose pits have been
beaten into numbed submission, but also for those who otherwise assume they have pits of steel from the get go, having never
experienced sensitivity before in their lives. Issues such as burning, itching, and peeling will, with prolonged use plague the vast
majority, not to mention that crumbling wax bases and fossilization of this deodorants' crystallized powders -- both problems eventually
rendering this product unusable -- will affect everyone universally. And being that these handmade deodorants naturally vary from
batch to batch, the grainier the powder's consistency, the grittier and more uncomfortable it will feel on the skin; the finer the powder's
consistency, the more sensitive the bar itself becomes to breakage. In fact, even the slightest bit of dampness -- even if unbeknown to
you -- will cause the bar to harden, making application neigh-on impossible from that point forward. Honestly, though, I don't know
which is worse: having a bar of Kryzstal that you can't use, or having one that you can.
they're honest about Kryzstal, informing you well in advance that this deodorant is supposed to be for the strongest, most insensitive of
armpits. And they ain't kidding. Think of it this way: when it comes to deodorants, what Lush calls "gentle" already requires steel
plated pits to be pleasantly effective. So you can imagine how strong your skin has to be to survive something they've already deemed
lethal. Me, being that I've been using Lush's Solid Deodorants for several months now (for the sake of giving them one last chance
before reviewing them), I am perhaps becoming immune to the burning (bar after post-shaving applications, in which case, OUCH!)
However, even this apparent immunity isn't enough to deter Kryzstal's potent lemon & lime oils from progressively turning armpits an
inflamed red, followed by an even darker brown (almost black) hue. And the same is not only true for those whose pits have been
beaten into numbed submission, but also for those who otherwise assume they have pits of steel from the get go, having never
experienced sensitivity before in their lives. Issues such as burning, itching, and peeling will, with prolonged use plague the vast
majority, not to mention that crumbling wax bases and fossilization of this deodorants' crystallized powders -- both problems eventually
rendering this product unusable -- will affect everyone universally. And being that these handmade deodorants naturally vary from
batch to batch, the grainier the powder's consistency, the grittier and more uncomfortable it will feel on the skin; the finer the powder's
consistency, the more sensitive the bar itself becomes to breakage. In fact, even the slightest bit of dampness -- even if unbeknown to
you -- will cause the bar to harden, making application neigh-on impossible from that point forward. Honestly, though, I don't know
which is worse: having a bar of Kryzstal that you can't use, or having one that you can.
Let’s start off with the good news: Lavender smells absolutely gorgeous. Lavender, ylang ylang, rose, and a dash of sweet benzoin to
keep these florals fresh and light. It’s just the right amount of girliness combined with womanly sophistication in this winter white and
green wax based bar, decorated with dried lavender seeds. But the problem is (even according to those who work for Lush) that most
Kryzstal Solid Deodorants contain such a large amount of concentrated essential oils and perfumes, that sensitivity is all too often an
issue -- even for not-so-sensitive skin. It is this that, with prolonged use, causes the skin to become dehydrated and even to turn dark
brown before it begins to flake off. And it is this that increasingly causes an instant burning sensation even when application doesn’t
follow shaving. Additionally, the actual physical design of the Kryzstals isn’t flawless, either. When applied, even the slightest bit of
moisture on the skin or in the air causes this bar to harden and to become grossly yellowed to brown. When hardening occurs (and it
always does), these deodorants become very difficult to apply. Add insult to injury: the wax base you're supposed to hold onto during
application also crumbles and falls off without fail, sometimes doing so upon first use. All of the above is genuine a shame, especially
in Lavender’s case: the fragrance is so pleasant, so wonderfully unique for a deodorant, that Lush really should take the time to
revamp their Kryzstals so that they’re not only friendlier to the skin but so that they also can practically allow for long term use. With one
bar meant to last for ages, if its pressed crystal surface inevitably becomes hard and unusable, what point can such longevity serve?
keep these florals fresh and light. It’s just the right amount of girliness combined with womanly sophistication in this winter white and
green wax based bar, decorated with dried lavender seeds. But the problem is (even according to those who work for Lush) that most
Kryzstal Solid Deodorants contain such a large amount of concentrated essential oils and perfumes, that sensitivity is all too often an
issue -- even for not-so-sensitive skin. It is this that, with prolonged use, causes the skin to become dehydrated and even to turn dark
brown before it begins to flake off. And it is this that increasingly causes an instant burning sensation even when application doesn’t
follow shaving. Additionally, the actual physical design of the Kryzstals isn’t flawless, either. When applied, even the slightest bit of
moisture on the skin or in the air causes this bar to harden and to become grossly yellowed to brown. When hardening occurs (and it
always does), these deodorants become very difficult to apply. Add insult to injury: the wax base you're supposed to hold onto during
application also crumbles and falls off without fail, sometimes doing so upon first use. All of the above is genuine a shame, especially
in Lavender’s case: the fragrance is so pleasant, so wonderfully unique for a deodorant, that Lush really should take the time to
revamp their Kryzstals so that they’re not only friendlier to the skin but so that they also can practically allow for long term use. With one
bar meant to last for ages, if its pressed crystal surface inevitably becomes hard and unusable, what point can such longevity serve?
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