In the final term of year 5, my teacher addressed the class about the uncomfortable stench that’d been brewing in the room.
He was trying to say, in the kindest way possible, that we smelt like pubescent piles of shit. “Boys – your bodies are changing. It’s important to use deodorant, particularly now that it’s getting hotter.” Bless him.
Although I agreed that everyone in the class smelt horrific, particularly after lunch – I have nostrils, after all – I was confident that the smelly pep talk didn’t pertain to moi. After all, I was quite behind the rest of the boys on the whole puberty front (I wouldn’t grow a single underarm hair for another two years) and held the belief that my sweat smelt like Britney Spears’ ‘Fantasy’ fragrance.
Still, I wanted to fit in. I also wanted to be like my older brother in year 8, who’d been flaunting his Lynx Africa around for a while now. So I took the plunge and asked mum to invest in a can for me.
And that was it. I was an adult, well on the way to owning a car, putting down a mortgage and getting a wife (I’m gay).
Lynx obviously did shit all in the grand scheme of things – using Lynx to conceal body odour in school is akin to placing a band-aid over a gaping shark-bite wound – but I could not care less. I simply frothed the shit.
So, in a wave of longing nostalgia, I went to my local supermarket last night and purchased all the Lynx flavours (yes, I shall call them flavours) I could find. With this in mind, I’ve compiled them in order of how fresh I thought they were, and how much I thought they’d help me pull as a smelly, hormonal tween.
5. Lynx Chocolate
There are two types of schoolkids in this world – ones with taste, and ones that use Lynx Chocolate. With Lynx Chocolate, one’s body odour simply became musky, dairy-infused body odour. The worst. Small dick energy.
4. Lynx… Leather and Cookies?
I’m at a loss for words as to how anyone a) thought of this flavour combination and b) turned this vision into reality. No one wants to smell like leather, nor do they want to smell like a glutenous, wheat-ridden, warm cookie. The smell – pungent robot cookie – is offensive, and I’m upset that it’s now wafting through my living room. Whoever’s wearing this right now dominates the 4-square courts during recess and is super mean about it. No pulling whatsoever.
3. Lynx Australia
A watered-down Lynx Africa. Weak. Forgettable. The can promises 48 hours of freshness and, to that, I chortle – this would have lasted 7 minutes on a boy’s armpits before succumbing to the overwhelming stench that is puberty. A boyfriend and girlfriend repellant.
2. Lynx Voodoo
Lynx Voodoo reminds me of the times I forgot to bring my Lynx Africa to school and had to borrow someone else’s deodorant after swimming – they’d whip out their can, you’d see that it wasn’t Lynx Africa, sigh, and then accept the fact that you’d have to smell like Voodoo for the afternoon. The smell is very strong, but it does get some points for being unique – while most of the smells blend into one another, Voodoo stands out. It’s the closest thing to a cologne, I reckon, if the cologne downed 4 litres of sugar during an acid trip. Resembles nodes of bergamot, fresh car and tears. 7/10 – could pull.
Special mention: Anarchy for her
I first became acquainted with this flavour in the supermarket aisle. Before this, I hadn’t realised that smell was gendered. Silly me. Gendered stereotypes aside, this flavour sucks. This is what I imagine an annoying rainbow unicorn to smell like – a mixture of raspberry cordial, a bag of sugar and regret. It’s simply overbearing, and this is coming from a self-proclaimed sweet tooth. (Also, 0/10 for seeking to reinforce the gender binary. Everyone deserves Lynx Africa.)
Speaking of…
1. Lynx Africa
At the end of the day, no other Lynx fragrance compares to that of Lynx Africa, the true OG of Australian tween body odour. Spraying on a bit of that bad boy made me feel like that bitch, because it was that smell. And in 2020, there’s no other scent that holds the power to immediately teleport you back into a nostalgic fever dream quite like Lynx Africa. One whiff of the pungent stuff, and I’m back at a year 6 party, drowning myself in Fanta and dropping it low to T-Pain. Ah, the good ol’ days.
In its essence, Lynx Africa, the true master of faux-big dick energy, feels like home.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, my apartment now smells like pubescent angst, schoolyard boners and MySpace top friends. I need to open up some windows.
