David Farrier with a selection of his closest friends. Photo / Jason Oxenham
David Farrier with a selection of his closest friends. Photo / Jason Oxenham
Opinion
David Farrier is on a mission to collect little bottles of soap, hand cream and shampoo from every hotel he visits.
Bulgari Eau Parfumee. Eucalyptus & Lemon Myrtle Earth Botanicals. Rose 31 Savon pour le corps. These are just some of my favourite hotel soaps.
It started innocently enough, back when I was 8. It was a family holiday up north, somewhere on the East Coast of New Zealand. We packed the car with chilly bins, snacks and board games and drove for hours. Eventually we reached that favourite Kiwi destination, the generic roadside motel. Checking in, I distinctly remember running around different rooms, excited at our thrilling temporary new abode.
And then, there in the bathroom, it happened. I spotted three tiny packages on the sink: a tiny bottle of shampoo, a tiny bottle of moisturiser, and a tiny hotel soap wrapped in paper with beautiful cursive writing: "Soap". Without really knowing why, I grabbed the three items and shoved them in my pocket.
I can't recall if there were any questions from my parents or older brother about where the bathroom condiments were, but I've certainly heard the question posed since - because for the past 24 years I've been collecting hotel soaps, shampoos and conditioners.
No. 1011 Paraben Free Body Wash. Bliss Lemon & Sage Body Butter Maximum Moisture Creme. Uspa Tangerine & Rose Body Cleanser.
Each tiny pottle tells a story of a place or memory or country I've ended up in. It started slowly enough. More family holidays around New Zealand, then as I got older the odd road trip with friends.
It's not easy, discreetly stealing away with the room's toiletries. Travelling with a friend and sharing the one bathroom presents a problem. I know to travel with my own soap and shampoo, but the people I room with don't. They go to have a shower at the end of a long day and mysteriously find the shampoo missing. "There's no soap!" Oh, if I could count the number of times I've heard that phrase. I feign surprise, saying the cleaners must have simply forgotten. "Don't worry, they'll give us new soap tomorrow, clean yourself then." Of course the new soaps never arrive. "The room service is terrible at this hotel," I mutter, sounding annoyed. I've become a very good actor.
Poggesi Fine Italian Fragrances Coco Mango. Peter Thomas Roth Mega Rich Body Lait Pour Le Corps. Koru Spa Bodywash With Active Manuka Honey.
The writer luxuriates
among his collection
of hotel toiletries.
Photo / Jason Oxenham
There's a method to my madness - some rules to keep things in check. I only ever take what's given. Each morning in a hotel, the bed sheets are changed, the room neatened, and new soaps delivered. Those are mine for the taking. I paid for that room - they're mine.
I admit, there have been times wandering hotel hallways where I've seen the cleaner's trolley, stocked full of soaps and shampoos. I feel a nervous jitter in my guts. All I want to do thrust my hand into the bag and fill my pockets. But that's unfair. That's going too far. I'm not crazy. I have 1243 soaps.
Things really escalated when I started working as an entertainment journalist. I would end up all over the world in a variety of hotel rooms. Tokyo, Las Vegas, New York, Melbourne, Warsaw, London. I'd end up there for movie premieres, technology shows and music festivals. When Michael Jackson died, I was in Los Angeles for two weeks. That's 14 nights, with between three and four new soaps delivered every day. That's more than 40 to add to my collection. It adds up. When I pack to go somewhere, I always make sure there's spare room in the suitcase.
Only my closest friends and family know about this habit. It's embarrassing, in a way. It makes me look some kind of soap psychopath. But I don't know, there's logic there somewhere. I'm not exactly wasting them. They're just being kept safe. Yes, that's it - safe. I'm a soap historian.
What will become of the soaps? I'm not entirely sure. I sometimes fantasise about pouring them all into a giant bath of some kind, perhaps - all the moisturisers, soaps, shampoos and body washes in a giant, sticky vat. I'd put goggles on and dive in. I'd be the cleanest I've ever been. But I imagine what I'll do is the right thing - donate them to a shelter of some kind. It's the only proper thing to do. But it will be difficult to part with them. Some people keep a diary of travels, or take photos. I take soaps. Each one is a memory of a place or a moment in time.
Earth Botanicals Cucumber and Mint. Poggesi Cullutorio Fine Italian. Gilchrest & Soames Apres-Shampooing.
All the names of friends I've shared on this beautiful journey called life.
