XTREMISM in the shower

This is my shower gel. It is “Xtreme” shower gel.

As we all know, in the field of products the more “extreme” something is, the better it is – and if you can mis-spell “extreme” it is even more extreme, and therefore even better.

So while in the field of consumer goods extremism is a undeniably A Good Thing, it seems odd that we do not welcome it in other fields as well. Perhaps this is due to the fuddy-duddy spelling of "extreme" with a lower case "e" at the start. 

Al Qaeda, for example, could rebrand itself as Islam Xtreme to appeal more to the key 18-25 demographic. The EDL could try to break out of its C2/D/E ghetto by calling itself Xtreme Racist Halfwits.

Nevertheless, as I showered this morning, I must confess to being somewhat at a loss in seeking to discern in precisely what the xtremity of this gel consisted.

I did not get a sense of freefalling from a light aircraft. I did not feel as though I doing stunts on a BMX bike. I did not even feel as though I was pouring a can of drink into my mouth from a height of about 8 to 12 inches away to the sound of powerful rock guitar music. 

These are all recognisably xtreme sensations, but I was at a loss to detect the shower gel precipitating any of them within me.  

Then I looked at the “flavour” of the gel. As you can see, it purports to be made of – or at least to smell of – “Exhilarating Grapefruit, Amber and Cedarwood”.

I have never encountered grapefruit, amber and cedarwood in the flesh at the same time, so I can’t really say that to do so would not be exhilarating. When I have encountered them separately, however:

• The only time I have felt exhilaration in connection with a grapefruit was upon successfully dodging a thrown one.
• Amber – it is hard to think of a more inert substance than fossilized tree resin, and therefore one less likely to cause exhilaration, unless it has hidden qualities I am unaware of.
• All I know about cedarwood is that you should not stand underneath cedar trees during lightning storms. Having a tree fall to the ground around you in flames is probably quite exhilarating, but not in the sort of way one is keen to experience early each morning.

Upon calm reflection (after the exhilaration had ended), I wondered precisely what part the amber was playing in this recipe.

• Grapefruit – yes, I can smell that. It is citrusy.
• Cedarwood – errr...I am prepared to acknowledge that some wood smells and therefore that had I not the olfactory acuity of noseless dog (though I hasten to add, I do NOT smell terrible) that this may have been present in the rich bouquet offered up.
• Amber. What EXACTLY is amber supposed to smell of? The internet says that you can – theoretically – extract an oil from amber which smells (unsurprisingly) of pine. So far, so much my shower gel is making smell like a toilet bowl.

Maybe it is not contributing to the perfume? Perhaps I am supposed to be exfoliating with the preserved exoskeletons of prehistoric mosquitoes encased in the amber?

So, intrigued, I checked the ingredients to see what the amber is bringing to the party.

This is in English, you may be surprised to discover. What will probably not surprise you is to learn that this substance contains neither grapefruit, nor amber, nor cedarwood.

The question then remains: did they come up with the name first and try, subsequently, to make something that smelled of that? So what exactly was the amber adding? 

Or did they instead make the smell and then try to describe it? In which case, who smelled the amber?

I am going to ask the Avon lady next time I see her.