Somebody left deodorant on my desk and it’s haunted me since…

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*This story is in paid partnership with Dove

There’s a very specific kind of humiliation that only exists purely in fashion magazine offices, and I know it well.

I was 23, fresh out of university and had moved to London from Wales in search of my dream job in journalism. By day I interned at some of the most prestigious magazine titles, coming home exhausted every evening to sleep on a friend’s couch.

It was a tough time. I was working every day (on weekends I interviewed and wrote real life stories for weekly magazines, which I loathed but paid well…) I was also heartbroken from a tricky relationship I’d left in Wales and scared about the future without a job, in the middle of a financial crisis. Most of the placements I’d done so far had been fun; a luxury mens mag gave me so many cool interview opportunities, a sunday newspaper gave me stacks of extra freelance work too. But I knew it was women’s fashion I loved, so I bit the bullet and applied for one of the most prestigious internships out there - and was accepted.

From the first day of my placement, I knew something was off in this office. The air was fraught with self importance, prestige and a latent terror that meant everyone was visibly on edge. Nobody smiled. Or, like, ate. Or massively acknowledged me, unless it was to bark an order or ask me to get their lunch. It was all very The Devil Wears Prada, in the worst way possible. I tried to find glimmers of joy and learn something, but all I learned was that to work here you had to be very well connected, very thin and very white.

Everybody in that office was impossibly polished. Even the other interns somehow wore head-to-toe designer clothes that cost more than I could even fathom. There was no way to compete with that, so I leaned into my love, which was vintage. I’d been collecting it since I was a teen, mostly from necessity; being a plus size in the 90’s was not fun, so you had to be resourceful. I even thought my vintage style could be my point of difference. Turns out I was mistaken; “Who actually wears cowboy boots” one editor sniggered to the others, as they all turned and looked at my 1980s tasselled cowboy boots that I adored more than anything else I owned. I brushed it off and tried to convince myself it wasn’t directed at me - I had to make it through this placement.

Vintage was pretty much all I owned and could afford as it was pretty cheap back then; you could pick up 1950s cotton shift dresses for £15, which were perfect for the ragingly hot summer we were experiencing. I’d worn almost everything I owned, but wanted to look a little more elegant one day, so I wore a black 1960s short sleeve dress with pearl buttons I’d picked up. I didn’t realise what that day had in store for me; I spent most of the morning lugging garment bags around central London in the July heat. It was so frantic that I skipped lunch but managed to get back to my desk by the afternoon, without so much as a thank you.

I’d sat down for literally five minutes before one fashion editor waltzed over, looked me dead in the eye and said, “You should try these,” before dropping a pile of deodorants she’d been sent from a beauty brand onto my desk. It took me a second to work out what was happening - I’d barely had time to eat or drink that day, let alone think about my armpits. Then it hit me: I’d completely forgotten to put deodorant on that morning.

I’m not actually a particularly sweaty person (aside from this anxious lip sweat I seem to get on my face in awkward situations) but I’d also made the fatal error of wearing a vintage dress that turned out to be 100 per cent polyester - the sweatiest of all fabrics. Combined with a sweltering office and endless trips hauling fashion returns around London, I was sweating literal buckets.Slowly, horribly, it dawned on me what she was actually saying: I smelt bad.

Her voice was booming and brusque; a couple of people turned around and laughed. It was truly mortifying; waves of heated shame ripple through my body. I already didn’t fit in here; my style, my class, my race, my body, my upbringing was all so different to these people. I knew they looked down on me - they even didn’t try to hide it. But this was a deep blow; especially as I had another month left at that hellhole. So I took the deodorant, went to the loo and used them all over. The end of that day couldn’t come fast enough - and I got home, took off that dress, and never wore it again.

That shame has lived with me since; to every office, every spin class, every night out or date.

Nobody wants to be audibly told they smell in an office where everyone already seems richer, thinner, cooler and just better than you. But the extra layer was that as an Indian woman, body odour was something that already felt politically loaded to me. Growing up, I was acutely aware of racist stereotypes around South Asian people smelling “different” or bad, seeing somebody at school be bullied for it. I’d spent years trying to be hyper-vigilant about any sort of body odour; and you knew I was coming before you saw me - my school uniform smelt aggressively of Impulse 02 bodyspray and CK One.

As an adult, I made sure I always had a bottle of perfume with me in every bag - I gave it the same level of importance as my asthma inhalers. I always used the strongest deodorants I could find. But, of course, the one day I forgot, it was noticed.

I’ve thought about that moment more than you’d imagine over the years. I’ve noticed that not everyone seems to carry the same low-level terror around sweating and the inevitable possibility of smelling bad that I do. The man next to me at SoulCycle last week certainly didn’t seem remotely concerned as his very distinct mid-workout aroma slowly colonised the room. A friend I met for coffee recently, who only uses natural deodorant, who actually jokingly remarked that it wasn’t working. (It wasn’t…) And yet, to this day, one of my biggest fears is being visibly sweaty and smelling bad.

I know I should loosen up a bit and just let myself be sweaty - and whatever else manifests with it. But body anxiety is so rarely about the body itself - it’s about perception and the fear of being read incorrectly. I have eased off on my industrial-strength deodorants these days. What’s more important to me now is how enjoyable they are to use and how kind to my eczema prone skin they are.

That’s why I like the approach behind the new Dove Whole Body Deodorant range. Rather than pretending one quick underarm spray can somehow override biology entirely, it acknowledges something much more realistic: bodies sweat in lots of places. You don’t have to ditch your usual deodorant either - it’s designed to be used in addition to a regular underarm deodorant.

I’ve been using the Dove Whole Body Deodorant Cream in Lavender & Chamomile (above) largely because I’m drawn to anything that smells vaguely calming, and because it’s good for sensitive skin like mine (it’s dermatologically tested and contains Vitamin B3 and glycerine to hydrate skin.) It’s also safe for use on your chest, thighs and intimate areas too (it’s gynaecologically tested and aluminium free.) And the spray version is also excellent on sweaty feet.

The cream format is a gamechanger when I know I’ll be rushing around London for hours, it’s ideal for use on my chest, thighs and intimate areas. It’s become one of those products I now always keep in my bag. Not because I think women should smell like floral fields at all times (although it does smell delightful) or because I’m trying to outrun some old fear of how I’m being perceived, but because feeling comfortable in your body changes how you move through the world.

And maybe that’s just it, not pretending bodies are these immaculate things that never sweat, smell or react, but acknowledging that caring about comfort, confidence and freshness doesn’t automatically mean buying into shame either. And should you ever find yourself seduced by a cute polyester vintage dress, consider this your insurance policy.

I genuinely use these products, which is why I think you’d like them too. Shop Dove Whole Body Deodorant at selected retailers.

Much love and sweet, sweet smells…