Sack Sprays

A new breed of self-care companies has a salve for fragile masculinity: lavender and tapioca-scented deodorants and moisturizers for the scrotum.

- ZAK JASON I

I COULD SAY it started when I turned 33-my Jesus year, the year I vowed to transcend anxiety and exhaustion and do my most important work, the year I would emerge from my cave of pandemic isolation and early parenthood and couples therapy as the second coming of myself. But I am a millennial, not a messiah. The truth is that my search for rebirth began a few months later, with a Slack message about ball deodorant.

"Just been emailed asking if we'd like to review this-am trying not to be offended," a fellow WIRED editor wrote in a group channel. A Chicago-based company called Ballsy had developed a pH-balanced scrotal deodorizer made with lavender, aloe vera, green tea, and chamomile. "Your pits aren't the only place that need deodorant," a line of ad copy said. Beneath it was a photo of a 2-ounce black bottle, boldly labeled SACK SPRAY against a background of subtle undulating lines. I squinted, unable to tell whether I was looking at a topographical map or an extreme close-up of a nutsack.

My more enlightened colleagues either reacted with the "face vomiting" emoji or ignored the matter entirely. Nothing new here, just the self-care machine trying to expand its reach from women to men. My response was different. I hovered my cursor over the "face with raised eyebrow" emoji. I am the director of fact-checking at a global journalistic outlet, supposedly the chief skeptic in a workplace of skeptics. I wondered: Was Sack Spray for real? Could it truly keep the "funk off your junk" and "improve your daily comfort, confidence, and skin health"? I Googled "ball deodorant."