It amazes me that guys still do this.
Guys, let me tell you: girls hate Lynx. Don’t wear it.*
We’ve always hated it. Our hatred of it starts at about 11, when we first start secondary school. At this point, Lynx is used by boys the same way a Breitling watch might be to us as grown ups. According to the male species, its use at this age demonstrates that the user is one sophisticated motherfucker. It states that he is mature, self aware and appealing to the ladies. It shows that he gets pocket money.
This isn’t the message that’s actually conveyed however. What us 11 year old girls took from witnessing the ridiculous exhibition of a boy spraying half a can of Lynx about their person, is that said boy wanted us to die torturous deaths by asphyxiation. That’s where it all started.
This process led us to ritualistically despise every new Lynx fragrance as they were launched. Teenage boys, I can only assume, follow the herd when it comes to making their cosmetic choices and so at any one time, the overpowering hum of Lynx Africa, Lynx Inca or Lynx whatever’s-just-come-out-now would follow you about your lessons and seep from behind the boys’ changing room door.
As our teens progress, Lynx became less a status symbol and more woefully, misguidedly practical. Thinking back to those long afternoons in sweltering maths classes after a exuberant games of football or rounders or rugby, I can’t help but feel endlessly sorry for our teachers. We must have smelt utterly repugnant. Nowadays, I can’t even imagine chucking my clothes back on after physical exertion and joining 30 people doing the same to get down to the serious business of trigonometry…and that’s without the teen’s ill-found beliefs regarding the properties of Lynx. It’s just gross. It doesn’t bear thinking about. We must have been sweaty, smelly, hormonal messes. But that’s what we did. With great numbers of us erroneously believing that dousing ourselves in these ten-a-penny, tacky scents would somehow completely mask our own stinking bodies. To my horror, in later life, I discovered that this practise is known as (possibly racistly?) taking a “Portuguese bath”. I can’t believe people would name it, let alone actually think it’s an acceptable custom.
And this leads me on to another (real life, relevant now) point: Lynx won’t stop you sweating and therefore won’t stop you smelling. It’s a deodorant. That’s all. De-odor-ant. As stupid as this sounds, a deodorant isn’t what you want from a deodorant. What you actually want is an anti-perspirant deodorant. That stops you sweating AND masks any funk you may have. Deodorants, as their names suggest, just tries to get rid of your funk, which, of course, there’ll be a ton of because nothing is stopping you sweating. Lynx, almost making fun of themselves by this point I think, actually introduced a range of anti-perspirant deodorants a little while ago call “Lynx Dry”. You know what that means? Everything else is (and always has been through woman’s ill suffering lives) Lynx Wet as far as I’m concerned.
And this is all without so much as mentioning their utterly ridiculous adverts.
So, as much as I didn’t think it needed saying, guys: stop wearing Lynx. If you’re over the age of 12, stop wearing it. It doesn’t do what you think it does, it doesn’t smell good and any women you’re trying to impress will think of sweaty, socially backwards teenage boys in school ties.
Just buy Sure roll-on for god’s sake, it’s not that hard.
* I understand that Lynx is called Axe in the U.S.. So for the next ten minutes, yanks, just call Axe “Lynx”, okay?