Above: Jordan in a leather minidress massaging a box of french hand creams for work. Below: Me, trying to imagine what it’s like to be Jordan, lovingly gazing at a half-empty bottle of face toner.

by Erin

I’m one of those almost-40-year-old middle class white feminists who eschews the patriarchy but then spends like 5% of my income on skincare. Don’t tell me to smile, but if I do, know that 15 tons of retinol is keeping the trout mouth at bay. Is that what retinol even does? Actually, I have no idea. You should probably take beauty advice from me.

My friend Alisa has been trying to convince me to switch to natural deodorant for years. And for years, I have resisted despite the fact that I know that the aluminum in many deodorant brands has been linked to a host of illnesses, including breast cancer, because my only experiences with natural deodorants have been…shall we say, less than ideal. (OK, they were terrible. I have no idea how a deodorant can actually make you smell worse, but there you go.) 

But I’ve been hearing about Native Deodorant for awhile now - it’s one of those cult items that everyone who’s into natural products is all aflutter about. I posted about it on Instagram, asking whether anyone had tried it, and was stunned by the outpouring of love for the brand. So I tried it myself, and now I get it. It just…works. It’s great. And I especially love that the scents are subtle and unisex; I like the idea that one brand can work for the entire family (not that I’d share my deodorant with a man, but that’s another story).