The Natural Deodorant Challenge: Do They Work?

"Ladies don’t sweat," my father always said. "They glow." He usually made this joke whenever my mother, after pushing a sputtering mower across our sloped front yard, would come in panting and dripping with sweat.

My mother, unsurprisingly, was not amused. But I couldn’t have cared less. At least not until puberty — that cruel mistress! — knocked on my door. I prayed for breasts; instead, I got overactive sweat glands. By the time high school arrived, I did way more than “glow.” If I was lucky, I’d make it an hour before damp rings began to spread under the arms of my X-Girl tee. I took to using copious amounts of antiperspirant, and maybe even folding Kleenex, origami-style, into makeshift sweat guards. Some girls stuffed their bras. I shoved tissue into my shirts and rarely let my elbows go straight, lest a chunk of sweat-soaked toilet paper come tumbling out from my sleeves. Point is, I was a sweaty little beast.

Related: Ask A Dude: What’s the Minimum Grooming Routine?

Strangely and suddenly, everything changed in my 20s, and I reverted to what must be average levels of sweat. (I like to think of the shift as a karmic exchange for those horrible teenage years.) Over time, I began to get cocky. If I didn’t sweat like a stevedore, maybe I didn’t even need antiperspirant. I could switch to plain deodorant, reduce my exposure to aluminum, and let my underarm pores “breathe.”

So I did. And it was great — until it wasn’t. Even though I wasn’t a profuse perspirer anymore, I began to ruin silk shirts with little rings of sweat. I worried that I might not smell so great (which made me nervous and therefore more prone to sweating). When I thought of my wedding day, I had nightmarish visions of spouting sweat on my dress, stinking up the reception hall, and becoming forever known as the B.O. Bride. I went back to antiperspirant before the wedding. All went fine. No sweat.

Related: 10 Raw Foods That Are Good for Your Skin

But the truth is, I feel healthier when my body does its natural thing. Perspiration is normal and healthy — it’s the stink I’m not so keen on. The question is, does natural deodorant really get the job done? I decided to experiment. Before getting started, I set a few rules: Crystal deodorant was off the table, because it is no longer 1973. And all of the deodorants had to be aluminum-free. Here, the rundown of how four fared, each over a three-day period.

Lavanila Healthy Deodorant ($14)
It’s supposed to smell like pineapple and mango, but really, it smelled like a standard deodorant with a hint of tea. I worried that the white stick would leave marks on my clothes, but it didn’t. The fashion week heat wave definitely put Lavanila to the test. I had some underarm dampness, but the funk factor was pretty low. (The only time I began to suspect myself of reeking was backstage at Alexander Wang, an unbearably warm and stuffy space.)

PiperWai ($10)
This new indie deodorant is a semi-opaque gray cream (thanks to activated charcoal) that claims to create a pH-balanced underarm area. Unlike traditional stink stoppers, this one needs to be rubbed into the pits. It has an herbal, gender-neutral scent, and kept my underarms surprisingly dry.

Malin + Goetz Eucalyptus Deodorant ($18)
Natural-product purists will correctly point out the presence of proplyene glycol in this formula, and this is absolutely the most conventional of the bunch. But you know what? It works pretty well, keeping me more or less dry through the 90-degree heat of an Alabama thunderstorm. On the downside, it leaves a somewhat slick residue that takes a bit of shower scrubbing to remove. Overall, though, not bad!

Weleda Citrus Deodorant ($14)
This is largely alcohol and lemon peel oil, which may explain why it gave this near-teetotaler a craving for a 7 & 7 way before noon. The citrusy smell of 7-Up lasted for a good hour or so before fading, but midway through a strenuous day of typing, I began to suspect myself of smelling. I turned to my husband for an evaluation. He paused to choose his words carefully before admitting, “I don’t think it’s as… effective as the gray stuff.” So diplomatic, that one.

Ultimately, with any natural deodorant, it’s important to set expectations. (Or is that sweat-pectations?) If you’re looking for a product to stop you from perspiring and to perfume your underarms, antiperspirant is the way to go. But if you’re willing to deal with a little dampness and you don’t mind getting a slight hint your own body scent — which, I contend, can be alluring — a good natural deodorant can be the best thing for your “glow.”