Flow: The Cultural Story of Menstruation (20 page)

Yes, we kid you not. Lysol … that neon-yellow disinfectant that was scary enough when your mom scrubbed out the toilet bowl with it, and which is still strong enough to kill the Ebola virus without batting an eye. In fact, the very potency of Lysol was considered one of its selling points as a vaginal rinse.

VAGINAL ODOR AS SOAP OPERA

Often a wife fails to realize that doubts due to one intimate neglect shut her out from happy married love.

-LYSOL

Before long this sense of misgiving developed into nervous irritability. Slowly but surely I could seethe man I loved turning from me.

—ZONITE

Day after heartbreaking day I was held in an unyielding web … a web spun by my husband’s indifference.

—LYSOL

A marriage may sometimes lose all the glorious magic of romance … even wreck completely … because of a wife’s carelessness (or ignorance) about Feminine Hygiene. It could happen to YOU. You surely don’t want to risk such a deeply personal tragedy.

—LYSOL

So humiliated when she realized the cause of her husband’s frigidity.

—ZONITE

Back then, women understood the veiled hints when ads for Lysol coyly mentioned it was for “married women,” for “morning-after freshness.” In other words, their product wouldn’t simply make your vagina all fresh and dewy-smelling … it would also kill any pesky sperm (which were considered pretty close to germs themselves) that might be lurking around up there, as well. This was, after all, also the era when girls not only wore poodle skirts and liked Ike, but routinely shook up bottles of Coca-Cola as an alternative spermicidal douche. And who knew? A good blast of Lysol might terminate an early unwanted pregnancy, as well.

Douching with a stiff dose of Lysol and water was vigorously marketed from the 1920s until the early 1960s, despite the rampant internal scalding and vaginal infections it caused in countless women. Startling as that may sound, the fact is that for decades, none of the douche manufacturers ever bothered to test whether any of their products, with their cartoonishly harsh chemical ingredients, were safe enough for women to keep using every few days.

More recently, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, hardly what you’d call a bunch of Our Bodies, Ourselves types, has itself recommended against douching because it’s a surefire way to kill off all the good-guy bacteria in your vagina. This in turn can easily lead to the bad guys taking over, which can lead to bacterial vaginosis or even pelvic inflammatory disease, which can lead to discomfort, possibly scarring, even infertility … and along the way, guess what will happen? Your vagina will smell really, really bad! Talk about irony! In fact, even the most innocent-sounding douche of vinegar and water can so imbalance your pH levels, you’ll soon be generating enough yeast to open your own bakery. As a result, douching has long since fallen out of favor around the world, except here in the United States, where an estimated 20 to 40 percent of all women still douche regularly.

The Smell Campaign—identifying what could be seen as a problem in the average, healthy vagina, amplifying the average woman’s fears about it, and then aggressively marketing products to “fix” it—has been so successful, it’s downright scary. In fact, the moment menstrual products came on the market—and to this day—odor has been one of the biggest boogeymen of the so-called feminine hygiene industry … the surefire way companies scare you into buying their products. At the same time, it’s this very subject, more than any other aspect, that puts its chilly thumb right into the soft, warm belly of the whole femcare advertising paradox. Does anyone honestly think the best way to win over new customers is by openly suggesting they reek to high heaven?

From the very beginning, menstrual advertising has been giving itself the vapors as it struggled to address the Smell Issue. Early copywriters went into flowery overdrive, churning out lavender-scented phrases like “personal daintiness” and “fresh as a daisy,” as they struggled to convince women that their product could save them from a lifetime sentence of funk. Euphemisms were tossed about in print ads, with much discreet nudging, meaningful raising of the eyebrows, and diplomatic winking going on.

In those early ads, one could practically hear the creaking anxiety of Modess and Kotex, white-gloved manufacturing doyennes that they were, struggling so very, very hard not to offend. Kotex’s earliest tagline was simply “Kotex—protects, deodorizes.” (Protects against what? Flying bullets? Malaria?) We especially enjoy the claims of Amolin, a deodorant powder that was quaveringly advertised as being able to get rid of odors “everywhere on the female body.” (Like what were you supposed to do … gargle with it?)

As with douche ads, the hands-down single best weapon advertisers used—and continue to brandish to this day—was terror; terror of offending, terror of being helplessly awash in stench, terror that admittedly ran a tad toward campiness at times, even luridness, yet was still wildly effective. That’s because smell sells.

Consider this 1928 potboiler of an ad for the commercial douche Zonite: “Is a wife to blame if she doesn’t know—these intimate physical facts?” We see the wife sobbing as her husband, coat in hand, storms out the door in a huff, nauseated and offended by having to actually breathe air in the same apartment as her vagina. And yet the ad leaves us grateful for the knowledge that for a mere pittance (no more, say, than a packet of tooth powder or the down payment on a new cloche hat), she could win him back!

Okay. So what’s the actual story?

Does a healthy vagina in fact emit supercharged smell-o-rama odor rays that can drive men away forever? And does menstrual blood stink to high heaven or doesn’t it?

The answer, generally speaking, is“no.”

But that being said, the vagina is only human.

While normally possessed of a healthy colony of friendly microorganisms living in odor-free harmony, the vagina still has its off days, especially when presented with antibiotic use, a sudden change in pH level, noncotton underwear, or unfamiliar semen from a new, condomless partner. Bacterial vaginosis sets in when the not-so-friendly anaerobic bacteria living in one’s love canal decide to mutiny and start raising that gigantic family they’ve always talked about. The smell they ultimately produce is chemically related to the one produced by decomposing bodies, which means some serious funk starts to kicks in; pretty soon, one actually does smell like a fish, and definitely not the kind you’d wantto order at a restaurant.

We’re not doctors, but take it from us: one can pretty much assume that if one suddenly notices any powerful aroma (such as that of low tide or a particularly zesty loaf of bread) emanating from the loins, this is definitely a warning sign. It could mean something relatively mild but disheartening, like bacterial vaginosis or a yeast infection. Other than making one feel vaguely like a leper, such low-grade infections are generally no more than an occasionally itchy, clumpy annoyance, and can be dispatched swiftly with topical creams or suppositories.

For the record, it’s been proven that bears won’t maul you if you have your period.

A horrible new smell could also mean that, silly you, you’ve forgotten all about that tampon you so blithely inserted days or even weeks ago. While the thought is understandably enough to make anyone blanch, the important thing is to get that mother out, as soon as possible. If for some reason you still can’t find it, calm down; go see your doctor and remind yourself that this is, in fact, an incredibly common occurrence. If you do end up with an infection, it can most likely be cleared up with antibiotics, and you should end up as good as new.

But vaginal odor can also indicate something more serious, namely pelvic inflammatory disease or even cancer—vaginal, cervical, uterine, bowel—in which case, one should definitely hightail it to one’s gynecologist posthaste, since smelling weird should be the worst of our problems. More rarely, there are unfortunately women who just happen to be born with an imbalance of vaginal flora, which means having a signature aroma.

As for menstrual blood, take it from us: it doesn’t smell like anything when it’s still inside the body. Even once it’s outside, it only takes on a decided bouquet after it’s been in contact with air for an extended period of time. We’re not whitewashing this one: if you let nature take its course, oxidation will definitely make a used pad pretty damn ripe. Changing regularly, however, is all any pad-wearing female needs to do to settle the question. (And not to spoil your appetite or anything, but one should also keep in mind that the highly touted “wicking” —i.e., absorbing—abilities of today’s sanitary napkins will also effectively wick … how to put this delicately? … bacteria from one’s butt.)

But come on, we hear you say … of course menstrual blood stinks! If I can smell it when I’m changing a tampon, then obviously someone else can smell it, too. And what about camping? What about sharkattacks?