Let's face it; the shack is adorable. As our shuttle to Mendenhall drove past, I spied the Glacier Silt Soap store sitting all picturesque on the corner. THUMP! That was me whacking my long-suffering husband on the arm. "We're SO going there!"
Despite not being a girly girl at all, I'm a sucker for artisan and unusual soap, and soap that lives in its own dollhouse makes me just squee and fall over like a short-legged bunny.
Alas, a late arrival in port coupled with the worst debarkation system I've ever experienced on a cruise ship (reason #7 not to book Norwegian for Alaska) meant that time slipped away in Juneau faster than we'd planned, and so we found ourselves on the doorstep of this twee soap paradise about three minutes before closing time.
Not a problem. The two ladies within were welcoming and reassured us not to hurry. The charm stayed on even when my husband refused to look at the "manly" soaps and went all Aussie on us Yanks with his frank discussions of the high prices of their products.
This wasn't because he's a jerkface, though, but because he's a serial soap killer. The man murders multiple bars of Irish Spring in a single week. If it doesn't come in an economy pack, the price is going to be too high. I've seen him with a fancy glycerin bar - the poor thing never had a chance to see another shower. In fact, I have to use shower gel instead of soap lest we perish under the Vesuvian ashload of soap scum that he brings into our marriage tub.
So, the fact that I keep buying soap that he can't use and that I dare not use is probably indicative of some deep psychological flaw, but, hey, pretty soap!
However, the cost of the soap wasn't just high for Mike's brutal purposes. The "Glacier Smoothie" soaps run around $9 each, or 3 for $24. This is definitely a gift soap, and in that light, it's a nice trinket for the right person. (Hint: I am the right person.)
The packaging is lovely: each bar is protected by plastic then placed in a cotton drawstring bag of coordinating color, to which a metal tag is attached. The tags are meant to evoke the tracking system used by miners during days of yore. The soaps themselves all have names and descriptions mean to conjure Alaskan imagery. I chose "Fireweed Fluff," "Sea Pickle," and "Five-Minute Forecast." The first two had bold semi-opaque looks while FMF was a rugged, milky blue. (See my photos.)
In the name of good reviewing I opened up Sea Pickle just now (two months after purchase) and gave it a try. What's interesting is that the bag smelled one way (nice) but the unwrapped soap smelled rather different (but also still nice and probably closer to the described scent of lime and ginger). I don't do well with "perfumey" products, and neither of these scents bothered me. I also have sensitive skin, but it takes several uses for a "bad" soap to get to me, so I'll have to update this review later if there are any issues. Assuming my hands aren't covered in boils. Typing with boils popping might short out the keyboard.
The soap IS glycerin, so don't set it down in a wet soap dish where it will slowly melt away like my dream of winning the lottery despite never bothering to buy a ticket. (I decided to use a little terrycloth cushion to act as a glycerin soap rest. Yes, that's my Martha moment of the year. Alert Pinterest.)
Aftermath? The fragrance was barely noticeable on my hands afterward, unlike, say, industrial public toilet soap. Suds developed slowly, making this more of a creamer than a frother. The brochure included with each bar suggests that the glacier silt within has moisturizing properties, and perhaps my hands do feel a little softer, actually. Again, I'll update the review if anything interesting happens over time.
All in all, the Glacier Smoothies shop was pleasant to browse and the soap makes for a distinctively Alaskan gift. Cut the price by 20-30%, and you could call it a five-star experience. read more