Marta, the Determined One, walks into her neighborhood supermarket. She only wants to buy a couple of things. She goes straight to the point, like always.
She’s about to head to the checkout when she sees Valeria.
They live close to each other, but Marta lives in a normal flat, and Valeria lives in a gated community with a swimming pool, gardens, and a paddle tennis court. Their kids have been friends since preschool.
To Marta, Valeria is one of those women who always seem to have extra time and money to do everything perfectly.
She looks at her from head to toe. Camper Pelotas shoes, baggy harem pants, a no-iron t-shirt, “wrinkles are beautiful” style…. Ufff! That elegant but effortless style! That amazing body…
Marta feels small.
Suddenly, she sees Valeria raise her arm, phone in hand, and it’s pretty clear her armpit is not shaved. He, he, he… Marta feels empowered and gives a little smile, while one clear word pops into her mind:
ECOPOSH.
——————————————-
“Hi!”
“Maaaarta!” Valeria greets her excitedly. “How are you?”
“Super good. And you? Taking pictures of a sausage?”
“Nooo, I’m scanning the barcode to check if it has nitrites.”
“What?” Marta doesn’t know what to say and feels like a balloon deflating.
“It’s an app. It tells you the quality of the products. Look, I’ll show you how it works.”
Valeria comes closer and, without asking, puts her hand into Marta’s basket. She pulls out a bar of Dove soap.
“For example, this…” she scans it and says, “Look, 50 out of 100! Just barely passed — nothing special.”
Marta feels a sting in her pride. Nothing special? Excuse meee? She takes a deep breath and starts talking, trying to stay calm.
“I’ve been using Dove since I was 20,” she answers.
“And do you know why? Because I loved seeing real women in their campaigns — women of all ages and colors, in their bra and panties, showing their rolls, instead of the usual models, beautiful and ridiculously perfect. It touched me, honestly. Since then, I always use it, and it leaves my skin super so…”
“Yessss,” Valeria cuts in, “it was the Real Beauty campaign — sooo good! It was a before and after in the world of advertising. It helped lots of women like you make peace with their bodies. A new paradigm, really. They created it after discovering in a study that only 2% of women felt beautiful. Crazy, right? That’s why it made sense to you.”
Marta’s face turns red with anger while Valeria keeps talking, lost in her own speech.
“But don’t trust them too much: They do greenwashing too. Look, the Unilever group, the one that owns Dove, also sells soaps under other brands to lighten African women’s skin. Here it’s all about real beauty and sweet talk, and in Africa, they sell whitening creams. So nice, right?
Why the fuck do I care about what they sell in Africa? Marta thinks, biting her tongue. She feels like telling her a thing or two, but all she feels is anger, and she has no real arguments. And on top of that, this eco-posh girl knows everything.
Valeria goes on, “And another thing,” she adds, bringing the soap closer to her nose, “this smells like laundry detergent — it’s full of synthetic perfumes.”
“I LIKE IT, OKAY? IT SMELLS CLEAN!” Marta cries out at the top of her voice.
Silence…
Then Valeria smiles, digs into her bag, and pulls out a small piece of soap wrapped in tissue paper. She holds it out to Marta.
“Here. A friend of mine makes these soaps. They sell them at the herbal shop on the corner. I always carry one to make my bag smell nice. Smell it.”
Without time to react, Marta sniffs it. It reminds her of something, but she can’t quite figure out what.
Valeria gently slips it into Marta’s shirt pocket. Marta doesn’t know whether to thank her or wring her neck.
“Take care, Marta,” says Valeria, with that perfect smile.
“You too,” Marta replies.
Marta pays for her shopping with her usual Dove soap, but she feels confused.
That woman… that tone… that unshaved armpit…
———————-
Three days later, at home and feeling calmer, she finds the piece of soap in her pocket. She smells it absentmindedly. A memory pops into her mind: Rosemary, lavender, lemon. Mediterranean plants! Summers in Alicante. La Casa de los Limoneros…
She sighs. She gets up, walks to her son’s bathroom, and leaves the DOVE soap there. In that simple gesture, without even thinking about it, something has changed.
A new conviction starts to grow inside her: Now Marta wants those handmade soaps, even if they cost more, even if she feels unfaithful… and despite Valeria.
