THAT’S THE WAY THE COOKIE CRUMBLES (16 page)

I must admit I had never heard of Sammy Kershaw. But that’s because as far as country and western singers go, I’m still stuck on Elvis. But I understand that Sammy is pretty hot stuff. He’s also an entrepreneur of sorts. He’s available not only on cds and tapes, as one would expect, but in a more unusual format as well. Sammy, you see, also comes in a bottle. At least, his essence does. Or it used to.

Starclone was a woman’s cologne that contained Sammy’s underarm sweat. During his performances, the singer would wear a shirt with pads sewn into it. After the show, he’d seal the pads in plastic bags and ship them off to the University of Colorado; there, chemists would extract the essence and distill it before sending the stuff on to a perfume manufacturer, who blended it with various floral fragrances. “Sammy Sauce” — as his band members dubbed the concoction — was supposed to trip the triggers of Kershaw’s fans. The promoters of the cologne made vague references to pheromones, those fascinating chemicals that can initiate mating behavior in certain species, but they didn’t imply that Starclone would do anything more than allow the fans a whiff of the sweet smell of success surrounding their idol.

For most people, the sweet smell of success, as far as armpits are concerned, has more to do with eliminating odors than accenting them. And in North America this translates into an industry that generates 1.5 billion dollars annually, an industry that is dedicated to saving us from the offensive vapors of others. Selling antiperspirants and deodorants is a huge business, undoubtedly because some of the chemicals these products eliminate are truly disturbing. Such as 3-methyl-2-hexenoic acid — referred to in the trade as “armpit in a jar.” One can actually find that jar at the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia, where chemists have isolated the compound from male underarm sweat and determined that it is the main odiferous component. That may well be, but it certainly isn’t the only one. The chemists have identified over two hundred compounds in sweat, some of them rivaling 3-methyl-2-hexenoic acid in terms of stench potential. We could refer to a vial of isovaleric acid as “locker room concentrate,” and androstenol recalls the distinct aroma of a public urinal. A lucky three percent of the population is spared such misery; these people cannot smell isovaleric acid at all. Then there is 4-ethyloctanoic acid, which reminds anyone who has ever smelled one of a wet male goat. This foul-smelling compound is a real turnoff — except, apparently, to mature female goats in heat. Catullus, the Roman poet, noted the goatish smell as early as 50 B.C., when he wrote about certain people “keeping a fierce goat under the arms.” But we don’t know whether Catullus was aware of the relationship between the smell and the mating habits of the animal in question.

Where do these underarm odors come from? We can blame bacteria that inhabit the surface of our skin. There are millions of them, and they feed on us. Indirectly. Our apocrine sweat glands, which are mostly found in our armpits and private regions, produce a yellowish fluid that harbors fats, proteins, and various steroids. The fluid has no smell, but its components are great food for bacteria. As they digest these components, the bacteria produce a variety of malodorous compounds. To put it bluntly, unless we take care, we’ll end up reeking of bacterial poop. The apocrine glands do not become active until puberty, feeding the theory that the compounds they excrete behave as human pheromones, or sex attractants.

While the idea that some sweat glands release chemical messengers is debatable, it is clear that not all sweat glands have this capability. Most of the roughly 2.5 billion sweat glands that riddle our bodies produce a watery fluid that contains dissolved ions — such as sodium, potassium, and chloride — but no organic substances. These eccrine glands serve a single purpose, and that is to cool the body. They are active from birth, and they release moisture in response to internal heat caused by high external temperature, muscle activity, or overstimulated nerves. Changing a liquid into a vapor requires heat; when heat is drawn from the body, the body cools down. An undesirable feature of the eccrine sweat process is that along with moisture we also lose minerals. Well, we don’t exactly lose them, but they are removed from our circulation. The minerals, mostly salt, remain on the skin after the water evaporates. That’s why skin tastes salty after heavy exercise. If we sweat extensively, then we may need to replace minerals by consuming a sports drink.

Excessive activity in the nervous system can also cause sweating. Anxiety or fear can prompt the adrenal glands to churn out adrenaline, the “fight or flight” hormone. The nerve cells that make up the part of our autonomic nervous system that relies on adrenaline for its activity (the sympathetic system) are connected to sweat glands; this way, if they get overheated through frantic activity, then they will be cooled. This keeps them functional. Drugs that stimulate the activity of the sympathetic system can also cause sweating. In fact, that was the clue Italian police needed to solve a bizarre attempted-murder case. Doctors had been unable to find a reason for a thirty-seven-year-old man’s sporadic but intense episodes of sweating and malaise. They suspected a tumor of the adrenal gland, but the solution turned out to be more sinister. Upon reflection, the patient himself realized that the episodes usually occurred after his wife, who was a nurse, brought him mineral water at lunchtime. As it turned out, she had doctored the drink with metaraminol, an adrenaline-like drug used to treat low blood pressure. There was another man involved, but he will have to do without his lover for a very long time. She was convicted of attempted murder. I bet that she broke out in a cold sweat when the police caught her.

But what about all those innocent people who have to fight underarm battles? That’s where deodorants and antiperspirants come in. The two products are not identical. Deodorants contain fragrances that mask the sweat smell as well as antibacterial agents that control the growth of bacteria on the skin. Antiperspirants, however, contain aluminum compounds that form insoluble gels on the skin and plug up pores, reducing the amount of sweat that makes it to the surface. In spite of the wild allegations that some have made about aluminum-based antiperspirants on the Internet, these products have a history of safe use. Claims that they can cause breast cancer by allowing toxins to be deposited in the lymph nodes instead of being expelled through sweat are nonsensical. The body eliminates toxins via the liver and kidneys, not through sweat. In any case, the toxins that are not eliminated end up circulating throughout the body; they are not somehow deposited in lymph glands near the breast. The only link between aluminum compounds and breast cancer has to do with mammograms: the technician conducting the test may confuse antiperspirant residue with calcium deposits, but these deposits are not cause for concern. Some unfortunate people, by their own account, sweat like pigs, no matter what they do. The expression is actually inappropriate, because pigs have no perspiration apparatus. That’s why they wallow in mud. This is not a useful option for humans. Surgery, however, is. The procedure known as endoscopic transthoracic sympathectomy stops signals from being transmitted along the nerves that stimulate sweat. But doctors only resort to this in the most extreme cases. What can a person do if deodorants and antiperspirants cannot turn off that chemical tap in the armpit? Maybe consider going into business. Like Sammy Kershaw did. Starclone is no longer on the market, so there is a need for an improved version of the bottled armpit. Maybe Sammy just didn’t have the right chemistry. Where is Elvis when you need him?

I was a little taken aback by the call. “Is that the Stainmaster?” the lady asked. While I’d been called names before, I had never been addressed in such an exalted fashion. I suppose I have developed somewhat of a reputation for helping people solve their stain problems through the appropriate use of chemistry, but “Stainmaster” was far too complimentary a title. It also intimidated me, because I knew I would be hearing about a particularly tough problem. I was right.

Tragedy had befallen a Barbie doll, the caller told me. She was a collector’s item, and she had been purchased for a tidy sum. But there was a slight problem: her red lip had been chipped. Barbie’s new owner tried to remedy the situation with a red marker, which, unfortunately, had bled into the surrounding flesh-colored plastic, making the poor creature look as if she had developed some strange allergic rash. Now this, the lady thought, was a job for the Stainmaster.

Stain removal is a fascinating chemical challenge. It is also incredibly complex. I wish I could outline a direct, step-by-step approach that one could take to remove any stain. But this is just not possible. There are simply too many variables. Different fabrics require different treatments. We cannot tackle candle wax on a tablecloth the same way we handle coffee on a shirt. And we even have to approach a coffee stain differently depending on whether milk or sugar is involved. But over the years I have amassed some experience in this area, and I am happy to share it here because it gives us a chance to explore a few fascinating facets of chemistry.

The practice of stain removal is based on four basic principles: absorbency, dissolution, detergency, and chemical reactivity. Absorbents — such as cornstarch, talcum powder, or salt — not only absorb excess liquids but also help lift fresh stains — such as red wine — from a surface. Different substances react in various ways to solvents. We can remove apple juice with hot water, but we require alcohol to dissolve lipstick dye. Greasy stains will not dissolve in pure water, but they will often dissolve if we add soap or detergent to the water. Such additives change the surface tension of the water, allowing it to flow more easily into the crevices of the fabric. At the same time, the soap or detergent molecules forge a link between the oil and the water; one end of the soap or detergent molecule binds to the oil, the other to the water. When we rinse the fabric, the stain lifts from its surface. Some stains cannot be dissolved, but they can be decolorized through appropriate chemical reactions. We can employ bleach, for example, to strip electrons from molecules. Electrons are more than just the glue that holds molecules together — they are also responsible for color. By stripping molecules of electrons, or “oxidizing” them, we can therefore eliminate stains. Another handy chemical reaction makes use of the enzymes that break down the proteins that cause some stain problems. To remove stains effectively, we may need to combine these methods.

Without a doubt, the key to stain-removal success is speed. You can get most stains out with water if you act quickly enough. If flushing with water (club soda is especially good, because the bubbling action helps dislodge the stain) doesn’t do the job, rub a little Ivory soap or Ivory dishwashing detergent into the stain and then rinse. If this doesn’t work, or if you are dealing with a stain that has dried, then you’ll have to take the solvent step. My first choice is usually dry-cleaning solvent, or perchloroethylene, also called “perk.”

At one time, I used a product that contained perk, and I just loved it. It was called K2R, and it came in an aerosol can; you sprayed it directly onto the fabric. At first, the results were frightening. The fabric turned white. But the white stuff was a powder that absorbed the solvent after it had dissolved the stain. Once it dried, you just removed it with the brush that was conveniently attached to the cap of the container. Alas, I can’t find this product anymore, probably because the sale of chlorinated solvents is restricted — these substances can be toxic.

You can also try regular dry-cleaning fluid (if you can find it) or lighter fluid. Particularly effective is Goof Off, which is a mixture of xylene and various other solvents. It’s great for dried latex paint, as well as many inks and glues. Place the fabric, stain side down, on a white cotton towel and drip the solvent through. If this doesn’t do the job, pour some of the solvent onto a piece of white cotton and dab at the stain. Never rub! The reason I try these solvents first is because they cannot do any harm; if your stain problem persists, you’ll have to battle it with other solvents. I usually try a citrus oil product like Orange TKO next. It can be a knockout. Made from orange peel, its main ingredient is limonene, an excellent solvent for greasy materials, many inks, and even candle wax and gum. Laundry Miracle is another of my favorites. Amyl acetate, also called banana oil, is the active ingredient here — one whiff and you’ll know where its alternate name comes from.

The alkoxylated alcohols form another superb family of solvents. I love these too. They dissolve a wide range of stains. Some of my greatest successes have come with Spot Shot. Its manufacturers market it for carpets, but it works on other fabrics as well. It is a combo of 2-butoxyethanol and a detergent. Spray it on, wait a bit, and dab with a paper towel. Shout, in its various formulations, is also worth shouting about. I’ve had good luck with the aerosol, the liquid, the gel, and, especially, the laundry stick. All of these contain some version of the alkoxylated alcohols, but the stick also has some propylene glycol — another good solvent — as well as a detergent and an enzyme that breaks down protein stains. Apply it, wait a moment, and then launder.

There are numerous other enzyme-containing products on the market, such as Bio-Ad and Amaze. Make a paste with one of these, rub it into a stain (as long as it’s not on wool or silk), and let it sit for a while in a warm environment. Rinse and be amazed! On occasion, you may have to soak a stained item in a solution of Amaze. Should that fail, however, bring on the bleach. My first choice is a paste made of sodium perborate (Bleach for Unbleachables); if this doesn’t work, then a dilute solution of sodium hypochlorite (white fabrics only) may do the trick. Oxy-Clean, which releases oxygen when it dissolves in water, can also be effective. If all of these fall short, then get out the scissors.

All right — let’s put some of what we’ve learned into practice. You’ve been drinking grape juice because you’ve heard that it contains resveratrol, which may protect you from a heart attack. But you’ve spilled some of the deep-purple liquid on your favorite shirt, just about giving yourself one. Fret not. Use Spot Shot or Shout, then, if needed, a paste of sodium perborate. The lycopene in the tomato sauce you’ve been eating to lower your cancer risk has left its mark. Spot Shot, then dilute vinegar, then dry-cleaning solvent will make life worth living again. You just made a diving catch in the outfield, and now you have grass stains as a souvenir. Amaze will take care of it. Ballpoint ink? Try limonene or amyl acetate. Cranberry sauce on the tablecloth? Hold the stain over a bowl and pour hot water through it from a height of about a foot. Do this carefully. Then use Shout. Does mustard on your best tie make you want to slash your wrists? Try Spot Shot, then rub with pure soap, and finish up with all-fabric bleach. If this doesn’t work, and you do end up slashing your wrists, rinse your shirt in cold water, rub the bloodstains with Bio-Ad, wait fifteen minutes, and rinse with dilute ammonia.

It’s a complicated business, isn’t it? Especially if a stain has soaked into the material and set. That’s exactly what happened to poor Barbie. I tried everything. After all, my reputation was at stake. I dabbed with hydrogen peroxide. I patted with perchloroethylene. I washed her tainted “skin” with limonene, acetone, and amyl acetate. She smelled like a fruit salad, and she still looked like a clown. I was out of weapons. The Stainmaster had failed.

But hang on. There may be hope. I’ve recently come across Ossengal, an “odorless, organic, chemical-free” spot remover made from the purified gall of oxen. It’s hard to see how this mix of acids, phospholipids, and enzymes could be “chemical-free,” but never mind. If you eat like an ox, you probably need some powerful stuff to break down your food. According to the Ossengal ads, at least, spots that are treated with the product will disappear instantly. Maybe I’ll try it on Barbie. Maybe Ossengal will remove the stain on the Stainmaster’s reputation.