Later On

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Archive for November 8th, 2021

Early Civilizations Had It All Figured Out

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Gideon Lewis-Kraus writes in the New Yorker:

Moments of sociopolitical tumult have a way of generating all-encompassing explanatory histories. These chronicles either indulge a sense of decline or applaud our advances. The appetite for such stories seems indiscriminate—tales of deterioration and tales of improvement are frequently consumed by the same people. Two of Bill Gates’s favorite soup-to-nuts books of the past decade, for example, are Steven Pinker’s “The Better Angels of Our Nature” and Yuval Noah Harari’s “Sapiens.” The first asserts that everything has been on the upswing since the Enlightenment, when we learned that rational argument was preferable to religious superstition and wanton cudgelling. The second concludes that everything was more or less O.K. until about twelve thousand years ago, when we first beat our swords into plowshares; this innocent decision, which must have seemed a good idea at the time, heralded an era of administrative hierarchy, state-sanctioned violence, and the unchecked proliferation of carbohydrates. Perhaps what readers like Gates find valuable in these books has less to do with the purported shape and direction of history than with the broad assurance that history has a shape and a direction.

Both stories, after all, adhere to a model of history that’s at once teleological (driven by specific forces to arrive at the foreordained present) and discontinuous (such magical things as farming and rationality emerged from the woodwork, unlocking successive stages of developmental maturity). They generally agree that the crucial rupture divided some original state of nature from the grand accession of civilization. Their arcs of irrevocable decline or compulsory progress are variations on themes that were given their most recognizable modern elaborations by Thomas Hobbes and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Pinker takes up the Hobbesian notion that early human existence was a brutish war of all against all. Harari takes rather literally Rousseau’s thought experiment that we were born free and rushed headlong into our chains. (“There is no way out of the imagined order,” Harari writes. “When we break down our prison walls and run towards freedom, we are in fact running into the more spacious exercise yard of a bigger prison.”) In both accounts, guilelessness and egalitarianism are exchanged for knowledge and subordination; the only real difference lies in the cost-benefit assessments of that trade.

About a decade ago, the anthropologist and activist David Graeber, who died suddenly last year, at the age of fifty-nine, and the archeologist David Wengrow began to consider, in the wake of Occupy Wall Street, how they might contribute to the burgeoning literature on inequality. Not inequality of income or wealth but inequality of power: why so many people obey the orders of so few. The two scholars came to see, however, that to inquire after the “origins” of inequality was to defer to one of two myths—roughly, Hobbes’s or Rousseau’s—based on a deeply ingrained and deeply misleading fantasy of the human career. The product of their extended collaboration, “The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity” (Farrar, Straus & Giroux), is a profuse and antic account of how we came to take that old narrative for granted and why we might be better off if we let it go.

The consensus version of the story begins with the appearance of the first anatomically modern humans, about two hundred thousand years ago. For approximately a hundred and ninety thousand years, or about ninety-five per cent of our existence as a species, we lived in small bands of hunter-gatherers, following migratory herds and foraging for wild nuts and berries. These cohorts were small enough, and the demands of resource procurement and allocation were sufficiently minor, that decisions were face-to-face affairs among intimates. Despite the lurking menace of large cats, these early hunter-gatherers didn’t have to work particularly hard to fulfill their caloric needs, and they passed their ample leisure hours cavorting like primates. The order of the day was an easy egalitarianism, mostly for want of other options.

Twelve thousand years ago, give or take, the static pleasures of this long, undifferentiated epoch gave way to history proper. The hunter-gatherer bands lucky enough to find themselves on the flanks of the Zagros Mountains, or the eastern shores of the Mediterranean, began herding and farming. The rise of agriculture allowed for permanent settlements, which, growing dense, became cities. Urban commerce demanded division of labor, professional specialization, and bureaucratic oversight. Because wheat, unlike wild berries or the hindquarters of an aurochs, was a storable, countable good that appeared on a routine schedule, the selfish administrators of inchoate kingdoms could easily collect taxes, or tributes. Writing, which first emerged in the service of accounting, abetted the sort of control and surveillance upon which primitive racketeers came to depend. Where hunter-gatherers had hunted and gathered only enough to meet the demands of the day, agricultural communities created history’s first surpluses, and the extraction of tributes propped up rent-seeking élites and the managerial pyramids—not to mention standing armies—necessary to maintain their privilege. The rise of the arts, technology, and monumental architecture was the upside of the creation and immiseration of a peasant class.

From roughly the Enlightenment through the middle of the twentieth century, these developments—which came to be known as the Neolithic Revolution—were seen as generally good things. Societies were categorized by evolutionary stage on the basis of their mode of food production and economic organization, with full-fledged states taken to be the pinnacle of progress.

But it was also possible to think that the Neolithic Revolution was, all in all, a bad thing. In the late nineteen-sixties, ethnographers studying present-day hunter-gatherers in southern Africa argued that their “primitive” ways were not only freer and more egalitarian than the “later” stages of human development but also healthier and more fun. Agriculture required much longer and duller working hours; dense settlements and the proximity of livestock, as well as monotonous diets of cereal staples, encouraged malnutrition and disease. The poisoned fruit of grain cultivation had, in this telling, led to a cycle of population growth and more grain cultivation. Agriculture was a trap. Rousseau’s thought experiment, long written off by conservative critics as romantic nostalgia for the “noble savage,” was resuscitated, in modern, scientific form. It might have taken three or four decades for these insights to make their way to ted stages, but the paleo diet became a fundamental requirement of any self-respecting Silicon Valley founder.

For Graeber and Wengrow, this basic story, whether relayed in a triumphal or a defeatist register, is itself a trap. If we accept that the rise of agriculture meant the rise of the state—of political élites and intricate structures of power—then all we can do is tinker around the edges. Even if we regard the Paleolithic era as a garden paradise, we know that our reëntry is forever barred. For one thing, the requirements of hunting and gathering could support only some trivial fraction of the earth’s current population. A life under government control now seems inescapable.

“The Dawn of Everything” is a lively, and often very funny, anarchist project that aspires to enlarge our political imagination by revitalizing the possibilities of the distant past. Superficially, it resembles other exhaustive, synoptic histories—it’s encyclopedic in scope, with sections introduced by comically baroque intertitles—but it disavows the intellectual trappings of a knowable arc, a linear structure, and internal necessity. As a stab at grandeur stripped of grandiosity, the book rejects the logic of technological or ecological determinism, structuring its narrative around our ancestors’ improvisatory responses to the challenges of happenstance. The result is an almost hallucinatory vision of the human epic as a series of idiosyncratic digressions. It is the story of how we made it up as we went along—of how things could have been different and, perhaps, still might be.

Drawing on new archeological findings, and revisiting old ones, Graeber and Wengrow argue that the granaries-to-overlords tale simply isn’t true. Rather, it’s a function of an extremely low-resolution approach to time. Viewed closely, the course of human history resists our favored schemata. Hunter-gatherer communities seem to have experimented with various forms of farming as side projects thousands of years before we have any evidence of cities. Even after urban centers developed, there was nothing like an ineluctable relationship between cities, technology, and domination.

The large town of Çatalhöyük, for example, on the Konya Plain in present-day Turkey, was settled around 7400 B.C. and seems to have been occupied for approximately fifteen hundred years—which, the authors note, is “roughly the same period of time that separates us from Amalafrida, Queen of the Vandals, who reached the height of her influence around AD 523.” The settlement was home to about five thousand people, but it had neither an obvious center nor any communal facilities. There weren’t even streets: households were densely packed together and accessed via roof ladders. The residents’ living areas were marked by a “distinctly macabre sense of interior design,” with narrow rooms outfitted with aurochs skulls and horns, along with raised platforms that encased the remains of up to sixty of the households’ dead ancestors. It was, as far as we know, one of the first large settlements to have practiced agriculture: the citizens derived most of their nutrition from cereals and beans they grew, as well as from domesticated sheep and goats. For a long time, all of this was taken together as a key example of the “agricultural revolution” in action, and the material remnants were interpreted to support the old story. Corpulent female figurines, assumed to be part of fertility rituals, were found in what were understood to be proto-religious shrines of some sort—the first indications of organized cultural systems.

In the past three decades, however, new archeological methods have disturbed many of these long-standing assumptions. The “shrines” were, Graeber and Wengrow tell us, just regular houses; the female figurines could be the discarded Barbie dolls of the Anatolian Neolithic, but they could also be a way of honoring female elders. The community seems to have supported itself for a thousand years with various forms of agriculture—floodplain farming and animal husbandry—without ever having committed itself to new forms of social or cultural organization. From what we can derive from wall murals and other expressive residues, Graeber and Wengrow say, “the cultural life of the community remained stubbornly oriented around the worlds of hunting and foraging.”

So what was actually going on in Çatalhöyük? Graeber and Wengrow interpret the evidence to propose that the town’s inhabitants managed their affairs perfectly well without the sort of administrative structures, royal or priestly, that were supposedly part of the agricultural package. “Despite the considerable size and density of the built-up area, there is no evidence for central authority,” the authors maintain. “Each household appears more or less a world unto itself—a discrete locus of storage, production and consumption. Each also seems to have held a significant degree of control over its own rituals.” Some houses appear to have been more lavishly furnished with aurochs horns or prized obsidian (which was brought in from Cappadocia, more than a hundred miles away), but there is no sign of élite neighborhoods or marks of caste consolidation. Different forms of social organization likely prevailed at different times of year, with greater division of labor necessary for cultivation and hunting in the summer and fall, followed by something more equitable—and, perhaps, matriarchal—during the winter.

Çatalhöyük isn’t the only site that calls into question the presumption that the Neolithic era was patterned on a single civilizational kit. Graeber and Wengrow report that . . .

Continue reading.

Written by Leisureguy

8 November 2021 at 6:31 pm

The Magnificent Bribe

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Zachary Loeb writes at Real Life Mag:

Whenever there are disturbing revelations about the actions of a tech company, or around a certain set of technologies, a cycle begins that is becoming depressingly familiar. The initial story draws attention to the issue; in response to the initial exposé, there is a further outpouring of commentary; those in positions of authority are exhorted to do something; nothing much actually changes; and then a few weeks later, the cycle repeats. From Facebook to Amazon, from e-waste to the energy demands of crypto-currency, from facial recognition to the latest wearable gadget — we consumers find ourselves buffeted back and forth between the promise that high-tech devices are going to solve all of our problems, and the mounting evidence that those same devices are exacerbating many of our problems. And through it all, even as frustration mounts, we still find ourselves posting on social media, dutifully replacing our smartphones, taking advantage of next-day shipping, and streaming the latest show that everyone is talking about.

Surveying the state of the high-tech life, it is tempting to ponder how it got so bad, while simultaneously forgetting what it was that initially convinced one to hastily click “I agree” on the terms of service. Before certain social media platforms became foul-smelling swamps of conspiratorial misinformation, many of us joined them for what seemed like good reasons; before sighing at the speed with which their batteries die, smartphone owners were once awed by these devices: before grumbling that there was nothing worth watching, viewers were astounded by how much streaming content was available at one’s fingertips. Overwhelmed by the way today’s tech seems to be burying us in the bad, it’s easy to forget the extent to which tech won us over by offering us a share in the good — or to be more precise, in “the goods.”

Nearly 50 years ago, long before smartphones and social media, the social critic Lewis Mumford put a name to the way that complex technological systems offer a share in their benefits in exchange for compliance. He called it a “bribe.” With this label, Mumford sought to acknowledge the genuine plentitude that technological systems make available to many people, while emphasizing that this is not an offer of a gift but of a deal. Surrender to the power of complex technological systems — allow them to oversee, track, quantify, guide, manipulate, grade, nudge, and surveil you — and the system will offer you back an appealing share in its spoils. What is good for the growth of the technological system is presented as also being good for the individual, and as proof of this, here is something new and shiny. Sure, that shiny new thing is keeping tabs on you (and feeding all of that information back to the larger technological system), but it also lets you do things you genuinely could not do before. For a bribe to be accepted it needs to promise something truly enticing, and Mumford, in his essay “Authoritarian and Democratic Technics,” acknowledged that “the bargain we are being asked to ratify takes the form of a magnificent bribe.” The danger, however, was that “once one opts for the system no further choice remains.”

For Mumford, the bribe was not primarily about getting people into the habit of buying new gadgets and machines. Rather it was about incorporating people into a world that complex technological systems were remaking in their own image. Anticipating resistance, the bribe meets people not with the boot heel, but with the gift subscription.

The bribe is a discomforting concept. It asks us to consider the ways the things we purchase wind up buying us off, it asks us to see how taking that first bribe makes it easier to take the next one, and, even as it pushes us to reflect on our own complicity, it reminds us of the ways technological systems eliminate their alternatives. Writing about the bribe decades ago, Mumford was trying to sound the alarm, as he put it: “This is not a prediction of what will happen, but a warning against what may happen.” As with all of his glum predictions, it was one that Mumford hoped to be proven wrong about. Yet as one scrolls between reviews of the latest smartphone, revelations about the latest misdeeds of some massive tech company, and commentary about the way we have become so reliant on these systems that we cannot seriously speak about simply turning them off — it seems clear that what Mumford warned “may happen” has indeed happened.

The bribe can be a useful tool for understanding how we got where we are, and can be useful to keep in mind as we think about where we want to go next.

It is challenging to affix a single category to Lewis Mumford. He has been called a literary critic, a sociologist, a philosopher, a historian, and a “prophet of doom,” though he preferred to see himself as “an exponent of the Renewal of Life” — one who delivered grim warnings in the hopes that those ominous words would lead people to change their course. It seems best to see him as a social critic and public intellectual. Mumford was born in the final decade of the 19th century, and died at the start of the 20th century’s final decade. A child of Flushing, Queens, the experience of coming of age in that growing metropolis kindled in him a lifelong fascination with the ways people built cities, and those cities in turn built people.

As a young man, Mumford was  . . .

Continue reading.

Written by Leisureguy

8 November 2021 at 1:13 pm

Police Watchdog Calls for Full Access to Body Cam Footage. The NYPD Says No.

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The NYPD sometimes seems like a gang with uniforms and a badge — and a bad attitude. Eric Umansky reports for ProPublica:

The New York Police Department is undermining investigations into police abuse by refusing to give full access to body-worn camera footage, according to a new report by a city watchdog agency.

The NYPD began rolling out body-worn cameras to officers in 2017, nearly four years after a federal judge found that the department’s stop-and-frisk tactics were unconstitutional and ordered the NYPD to begin piloting the use of body cams.

The cameras are now standard issue in many jurisdictions across the country, seen as a way to provide more objective accounts of police actions and rely less on the recollections of officers or anyone else.

But, as ProPublica has detailed, the NYPD has often refused to share footage with the Civilian Complaint Review Board, the city agency tasked with investigating allegations of excessive force and other misconduct.

In some instances, the NYPD has told CCRB investigators no footage of an incident exists, only for the CCRB to later learn that it does. For example, during one investigation of an incident for which the NYPD said there was no footage, an officer later told investigators that she had her camera on.

Other times, the NYPD has acknowledged footage exists but refused to turn it over, citing privacy issues. In one case, an officer slammed a young man into the pavement, sending him to the hospital with a brain bleed. Seven body cameras worn by officers captured parts of the incident. But the NYPD withheld almost all the footage from CCRB investigators, on the grounds that a minor’s face could be seen in some of it.

The new report, by the Inspector General for the NYPD, which is not part of the department, recommends a straightforward solution: Investigators at the CCRB should have direct access to body-worn camera footage, so they don’t have to rely on the NYPD’s discretion. Police oversight agencies in a number of other cities already have such access.

“Effective and independent police review requires direct access to body-worn camera footage,” the inspector general, Philip Eure, said in a statement. “Oversight agencies cannot hold officers accountable for misconduct and foster greater trust between communities and law enforcement if the police withhold, redact, or delay the production of critical evidence.”

In its response, the NYPD rejected the call to give CCRB investigators full access.

The department emphasized that backlogs of requests for footage — an issue ProPublica has highlighted — have been addressed. The NYPD argued that the report was based on outdated information “about past practices that are no longer applicable.”

But the response gives the false impression that investigators already have the access they are seeking.

In referring to the call for direct access to body-worn camera, or BWC, footage, the NYPD stated: “The CCRB already has access to BWC footage detailed in this recommendation.”

Currently, CCRB investigators have to go through a request process that depends on the NYPD’s cooperation.

“Direct access has, and continues to be, one of the top needs of the CCRB,” the agency’s chair, the Rev. Frederick Davie,  . . .

Continue reading. There’s more.

Written by Leisureguy

8 November 2021 at 12:48 pm

Is the US bad at treating COVID-19 cases?

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Via Kevin Drump’s post.

Kevin Drum writes:

. . .

If you take a look at the case rate, the US has been doing pretty well for the past couple of months, falling from 500 per million to 200 per million. Meanwhile, countries like Germany and the Netherlands are skyrocketing, and others are increasing too, though at more normal rates.

But if you look at fatality rates, the picture is totally different. The US rate has declined to 3.5 deaths per million—which is good news—but that’s still three times higher than most other European countries.

To get a better sense of this seeming paradox, we need to look at the case fatality rate, which tells us the percentage of COVID-19 cases that eventually turn into deaths. [see chart above – LG]

CFR is an imperfect measure, but the differences are so stark that this hardly matters. Over the past couple of months the CFR has doubled in the US and is now twice as high as in Germany and four times as high as the UK.

The case fatality rate tends to bounce up and down a lot, and the US rate hasn’t always been higher than everyone else. Still, it’s generally been pretty high, and lately it’s spiked to a point pretty near its all-time peak.

Why? Why are so many more people dying of COVID-19 in the US than in other large peer countries?

Perhaps vaccination rates have something to do with it? Those who have been vaccinated and catch Covid anyway generally fare much better than those unvaccinated who get Covid.

Written by Leisureguy

8 November 2021 at 11:16 am

Ikigai annotated

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The Image is from a page on the website Sloww, and it shows that Ikigai consists of things you love and are good at that the world needs and will pay for. That’s nice, but I was interested in the other overlaps we have, thanks to Mr. Venn. Examples are from my observations of activities that are close to ikigai but just miss it one way or another — the honorable mentions, as it were.

A. You love doing it and are good at it, but the world doesn’t need it and won’t pay you for it. Example: Private pleasures, like eating a good meal or reading a good book. While there are restaurant critics and book reviewers, they are paid for their reviews, not their enjoyment. Most who enjoy a meal or book will never get paid beyond the enjoyment.

B. You love it and are good at it and the world needs it, but you won’t get paid for it.  Unsolicited advice is a common example, particularly for a certain type of personality.

C. Things the world needs and will pay for but you’re not good at them and don’t like doing them. Example: Numerous, but varies a lot from person to person.

D. You love and are good at it, and you can get paid for, but the world doesn’t need it. I would put a lot of pop culture in this category: cultural fluff and fads.

E. you love it, the world needs it, and you can get paid for it — but alas, you’re no good at. Quite a bit of pop culture falls in this category as well. This is the street of broken dreams. 

F. You’re good at it and can get paid for, but you don’t like doing it and the world doesn’t need it. This seems to describe certain salespeople, (particularly on late-night TV).

G. You’re good at it and can get paid for it because the world needs it, but you hate doing it. A great many jobs fall into this category — for example, assembly line work, sweat shop labor.

H. The world needs it and will pay for it, but you dislike it and are no good at it. Pretty easy choice, on the whole. Whole swaths of human endeavor fall into this category, though it differs from person to person.

Written by Leisureguy

8 November 2021 at 11:07 am

Posted in Daily life

Tallow + Steel Cognac and the peerless iKon stainless-steel slant

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My new Tallow + Steel shaving soap arrived. One minor disappointment: Back in the day, the soap would arrive with the logo (shown at right) stamped into the top of the soap. The logo clearly shows the Tallow (lathered brush) and Steel (straight razor) from which the company name is derived. 

The soap, with no logo, still produced a very nice lather indeed. The fragrance was light but detectable. I did not pick up all the notes in the description, but then, my nose…

Cognac is a scent perfectly complexed by a harmony of flavours: the blend of eau-de-vie, wood, air, and terroir bestows you with a tastefully spirituous boozy aroma.

Cognac (38%) | Oakwood (21%) | Vanilla (18%) | Orange (8%) | Tobacco (7%) | Cocoa (6%) | Jasmine (2%) | 100% natural aromatic extracts from botanicals.

Well-lathered, I set to work with the iKon slant, a favorite razor. The stubble never stood a chance. Three passes and the roughness of a two-day stubble gave easily away to a perfectly smooth and soft skin surface.

The aftershave seems to be a cross between a splash and a balm. From its description:

Tallow + Steel aftershaves are water-based splashes that soothe and repair the skin from irritation, dryness and razor burn. They are full of nutrient rich organic ingredients that will leave your skin feeling soft, and can be used as a daily moisturizer. Highly concentrated – apply to a wet face for best results.

Aftershave Version 2: Organic Witch Hazel + Organic Aloe Vera + Water + Organic Glycerin + Organic Quillaja Extract + Organic Rose Hydrosol + Organic Calendula Hydrosol + Alcohol + Organic Willow Bark Extract + Organic Cucumber Extract + Organic Licorice Root Extract + Organic Rosemary Extract + Leuconostoc / Radish Root Ferment Filtrate + Lactobacillus + Coconut Fruit Extract + Natural Fragrance (Botanical Extracts)

Our aftershaves are water-based and can be shipped worldwide.

Tallow + Steel has a page that describes the exact purpose and benefits of all their ingredients in soap or aftershave. Here is the list for the aftershave:

Organic Witch Hazel

A liquid that is distilled from the dried leaves, bark, and twigs of the Hamamelis virginiana or witch hazel shrub. Native Americans have long appreciated the medicinal properties of witch hazel and used the boiled plant parts to treat skin irritations and tumors. This herbal remedy is recognized world-wide as a natural cleanser and toner. Our witch hazel is certified organic.

Organic Aloe Vera

Aloe Vera is a clear gel coming from Aloe Vera leaves. Aloe vera contains many vitamins and minerals, and is an excellent treatment for burns, wounds, and inflammatory skin conditions. Our aloe vera is GMO-free and certified organic.

Organic Glycerin

Vegetable glycerin is an odorless liquid produced from plant oils. Glycerin is a great moisturizer and provides softening benefits for the skin. Our glycerin is GMO-free and certified organic.  

Organic Rose Hydrosol

Also known as rose flower water, rose hydrosol is the aqueous product of rose distillation and carries the hydrophilic properties (water-soluble components) of the plant. Our rose hydrosol is certified organic.

Organic Calendula Hydrosol

Also known as calendula flower water, calendula hydrosol is theaqueous product of calendula distillation and carries the hydrophilic properties (water-soluble components) of the plant. Our calendula hydrosol is certified organic.


This alcohol is from the distillation of our organic witch hazel and acts a preservative for the aftershave.

Organic Quillaja Extract

Quillaja extract comes from the bark of the Quillaja Saponaria, or soap bark tree from Chile.

Organic Cucumber Extract

Cucumbers contain vitamin C, and plenty of vitamin K, both antioxidants, which fight dark circles under the eyes. This is why a couple of cucumber slices placed over tired, puffy eyes in the morning makes you look refreshed. Pantothenic acid, or vitamin B-5, is another compound found in cucumbers that helps your skin retain moisture. The vitamin A, or retinol, in cucumbers fights dark spots and freckles because it helps control your skin’s production of melanin.

Organic Licorice Root Extract

Licorice Root has been used for its health benefits as far back as ancient China. The syrupy juice from the herb’s root contains beneficial plant sterols, which promote skin elasticity and fight inflammation and wrinkle formation. Licorice root also contains glycyrrhizin, an acid that plays a role in increasing steroid hormones that naturally occur in skin.

Organic Rosemary Extract

Rosemary has antimicrobial and antiseptic qualities that make it beneficial in efforts to eliminate eczema, dermatitis, oily skin, and acne. We use it also as a natural preservative to help keep our aftershaves fresh, allowing us to avoid chemical preservatives. 

Organic Willow Bark Extract

Willow Bark is beneficial for the skin due to its astringent, anti-inflammatory, soothing and conditioning properties. 

Willow Bark contains salicylic acid which is created by the conversion of salicin to this acid compound. A 2010 study reported that salicin can help reduce the visible signs of skin aging. Researchers applied a serum product containing 0.5 percent salicin on the faces of women aged 35 to 70, every day for 12 weeks. Results showed significant improvements in wrinkles, roughness, pore size, radiance, and overall appearance after only one week, with additional improvements in hyper-pigmentation, firmness, and jawline contour after four weeks.

Leuconostoc / Radish Root Ferment Filtrate

A natural preservative derived from radishes fermented with Leuconostoc kimchii, a lactic acid bacteria.

Coconut Fruit Extract + Lactobacillus

A natural preservative derived from fermenting Coconut fruit with Lactobacillus.

Natural Fragrance (Botanical Extracts)

Natural fragrance materials – those extracted from botanicals. This means aromatic extracts like essential oils (from steam distillation), absolutes and resins (from solvent extraction), CO2 extracts (from supercritical carbon dioxide extraction), or infusions.

Written by Leisureguy

8 November 2021 at 9:28 am

Posted in Shaving

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