I used to work demo tables at a convention every year, as the company would pay for people’s convention costs in exchange for 14 hours of volunteer work over the course of 5 days.
I decided after the first year that I would be volunteering my time overnight, instead of during the day. They ran after-hours games until 2am, and I usually stayed until 4am to run some more. We usually had about 100-150 people at 10pm, dwindling to about 20 by 4am.
By the end of the night, the temperatures inside are around 60, and nobody is sweating. It’s fantastic.
I also decided to start getting dollar store deodorants, the little travel size ones, and leaving them out with some baby wipes with a sign that says something along the lines of “NO JUDGEMENT, EVERYONE FORGETS SOME TIMES, TAKE ONE” With a little picture of “wipe pits, apply deodorant” underneath.
Every year, about half the deodorants have been claimed.
Sure it’s like $20 extra if I get things on sale, but it’s a small price to pay for not having to smell Convention Stank.
And when my job is literally to walk around a big circle of 10-30 people, most of whom have been walking around since before noon in a hot dealer hall, walking through a wall of “Cool Breeze” is so much less unpleasant than BO.
A big part of it is clothing being reworn again and again without proper washing. I used to be a fat slob myself, completely with a room full of dirty dishes and everything. Armpits and ass are only half the problem. I’d say perhaps only 1/3 of it. The big one for my past self (and for similar creatures who cross my path in the modern day) is old, musty clothing. Like jeans that have been put on so many times they they now smell a little damp and slightly mushroom-like. Shirts that have spent time wadded up in the corner of the bedroom, absorbing the smell of sweat and piss, only to be put on again when the dweller could find nothing cleaner to wear. They spend all their time in that space, immune to the smell around them, and can no longer detect the odors on their own. So they bring it with them everywhere they, to polluting cleaner, fresher spaces with their miasma.
I can usually guess (with accuracy) approximately how many cats a dweller has in their household (always far, far too many) just by smelling them as they walk by. These smells often clue you into what forms of memes and social media they consume as well – usually Pepe, Wojack and 4chan – but not always with similar accuracy. There are outliers, like my past self, 20 years now gone… Weird, dank, smelly leftists, with kind hearts and good intentions, but smelling oh so very fucking terrible, and always oh so fucking lonely.
It usually takes a good partner to help clean up that mess. A motivator. But a dweller who dwells that deep will find great difficulty finding one, for such partners do not dwell where the dweller does.
You have a very important point. Dirty cloths. A very good method is to soak your cloth in water with a cup of white vinegar for a few hours, even overnight. Before you wash them.
I absolutely cannot rewear the same shirt twice in a row, goddamn.
Also if you sweat while sleeping a morning shower makes a hell of a difference, if you don’t shower in the morning you basically start off stinking
We accept all identities but not the animalistic core of identity, the smell.
People can dress however they want but they cannot smell however they want.
It makes sense because we can look away or close our eyes. It still says something about the limits of acceptence.
Just put on the fucking deodorant
If smell is an identity then I’m bigoted against people who smell like dumpsters.
Fuck blanket acceptance of odors. A slogan on a t-shirt or a bunch of piercings or a vibrant hair color don’t have the power to make me physically ill, but odors can and do.
There’s a guy that goes to a gas station I go to a lot. He smells so bad! Full on dank, musty, armpit, rotten feet smell.
He’s like the grown up version of Pig Pen from the Peanuts. I swear if the light is right, you can see the clouds of dust around him.
Whenever I see him I try to get ahead of him because it lingers. You’ll be walking around and, Bam, like you could almost feel it hit you.
And like the other comment, I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I don’t think he changes much if at all. Could have a few of the same outfits and no washing machine. Whatever, it’s Bad.
Looks like he just got done working a 12 hour shift, on a break lathe, in a coal mine.
One of the reasons why I don’t attend conventions anymore. Fuck, Friday Night Magic got so bad I stopped going there too.
It also has never been about affording deodorant. That was just some BS a neckbeard spouted to save face. Some people lived in their own filth for so long they see it as the norm. Which is incredibly sad. And infuriating. Wash yourself you insufferable troll!
