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Random Thoughts

Baited breath

Hudson Cooper
Posted 2/9/24

People often ask me how I come up with ideas for my column. I reply by saying that my “Random Thoughts” come to me by listening and observing the world around me. For example, I …

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Random Thoughts

Baited breath

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People often ask me how I come up with ideas for my column. I reply by saying that my “Random Thoughts” come to me by listening and observing the world around me. For example, I participate every Thursday morning in a call-in segment of Paul Ciliberto’s celebrated local radio show. He gives me an opportunity to talk about my column that will be in “The Sullivan County Democrat” the next day.

A few weeks ago, he jokingly said he was waiting with “bated breath” to hear about my column. Well, my ears instantly sent that phrase to the hahathalamas section of my brain that creates comedic retorts. In a nanosecond it recognized the homophone pair of bate and bait. Then it associated bait with the smell of fish. Seconds later I said, “you should gargle with Lavoris for that breath.” 

As everybody laughed, I wondered why, with all the available mouthwash brands on the market, my brain selected Lavoris, a brand I never have used. And just like that, a random thought led to this column about the history of mouthwash and in particular, Lavoris.

Historians trace the first use of mouthwash back to the Roman and Greek periods. However, I imagine it goes back to the dawn of man. When Og brought home a brontosaurus tail for the family dinner, I imagine that night Mrs. Og told him “And don’t even think about kissing me with that dinosaur breath. Rinse your mouth.”

Eventually later civilizations used some sort of concoction to rinse their mouths. Over 1,800 years ago according to the Talmud, Hebrews cleansed their mouths with a mixture of olive oil and water squeezed from freshly made dough. Chinese people gargled with salt water, wine and tea believing in the healing properties of that mixture.

Now let us delve into that mouthwash called Lavoris. Beginning in the 20th Century, the Lavoris Chemical Company began making their main product, Lavoris Mouthwash. Sales were slow because the word “Chemical” in their name drove customers away. So, in 1932, they altered the name to the Lavoris Company and people began using the mouthwash.

 In 1958, the company was acquired by the Vick Chemical Company. I guess since their Vick’s VapoRub was successful as a topical ointment, why not try to conquer the oral hygiene market. When it was owned by Lavoris, the only way to purchase it was by mail order! They had no salespeople and no sales force. The Vick’s Company started selling the mouthwash in stores.

The company name, Lavoris, is derived from a mixture of ancient languages. Unlike Ford, Listerine and Hewlett-Packard, there never was a Mr. Lavoris. The name Lavoris can be traced back to Latin roots that connotate “work” or “labor.”

The name was chosen to reflect the company’s reliance on hard work and dedication. Too bad ancient languages did not have a word for marketing or sales force. It might have saved the company from having to sell to Vick’s.

Although Lavoris is difficult to find in local stores and pharmacies it does exist. You know that company where you could find almost anything from an aardvark to zzzQuil?  That’s right, you could buy those items as well as Lavoris on Amazon. Amazon does not sell live aardvarks, but they have stuffed toy ones for about five bucks. Lavoris, although not as popular in the United States is available on Amazon in its tongue-numbing cinnamon-flavored taste.

Lavoris does a big business in Italy and in France. So, if you are dining in Paris, you can rid your mouth of the stench of frog legs with a swish of Lavoris. In Italy, you can attempt to wash away the results of trying a piece of puzzone di moena cheese with a post prandial swig of Lavoris. But as they say in Milan, ”buona fortuna.” Suffice it to say that in English “puzzone” means stinky.

Hudson Cooper is a resident of Sullivan County, a writer, comedian and actor.

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