The dirty truth about Australia’s hygiene habits

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The problem with hygiene and grooming is that much of it is done in private, so it’s hard to know if people are cutting corners. Do people wash between their toes? Do they scrub behind their ears – that unlikely bath-time instruction from every parent? Do they soap up the armpits twice, just in case they are at risk of offending others?

All we know, courtesy of a recent international study from Canada’s McGill University, is that Australians are below the global average when it comes to a category called “hygiene and grooming”.

Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman spending more time on her hygiene than Australia does.

We give it .9 of an hour each day, while the world gives it 1.1 hours. The Kiwis, it should be said, are even more slapdash, managing only .8 of an hour.

The study, you’ll notice, doesn’t differentiate between the two categories. I like to think we’re world-class on hygiene, but more relaxed on grooming.

You can sense this when you are out and about. Everyone on the bus smells OK but – with the older chaps – a bit more attention to the eyebrows would not go astray. It’s like they’ve developed a hairy veranda, designed to shade the eyes. They – well, we – could also pay more attention to the ears, since whatever hair is now missing from the top of our heads appears to be now tunneling for freedom via our auditory canals.

Either that, or a tiny wombat is tunneling in the other direction, and has become stuck halfway.

I no longer wash between my toes, for example, since I can’t reach down that far.

The rise of the bearded hipster must also feed into the statistics: there’s a whole generation of young men saving five minutes a day, or 35 minutes a week, or a bit over 30 hours a year. No wonder they all have time to make their own sourdough bread.

Women, of course, are beyond criticism – but I wonder if the statistics have been affected by the way so much female grooming is done while on the go. They’ve probably marked that early morning hour down as “transport” even though they’re steering the car with one hand while applying mascara with the other. Some days, on the Anzac Bridge, half the motorists appear to be applying at least a mudpack and foils.

Of course, it’s easy to blame others for bringing down the national average. Each of us needs to take a measure of personal responsibility.

I no longer wash between my toes, for example, since I can’t reach down that far. I used to stand on one leg, flamingo style, and jam an upraised foot against my knee for scrubbing. It was a perilous operation, which I am now unwilling to continue lest catastrophe results.

These days, Richard Glover’s efforts at shaving leave him looking like a Norman Gunston tribute act.

My view: there’s hot water down there, so it’s probably doing something, especially if I stomp around a little. All the same, if I lose a leg to trench foot, I’ll have myself to blame.

I also only shave when necessary, as I’m not very good at it. Half the time I nick myself and end up festooned in crunched-up toilet paper like a Norman Gunston tribute act. I think the fault lies with my father. Why don’t fathers teach their sons to shave? You just hand your 15-year-old son a sharpened razor blade and send him into the bathroom. If he emerges with his head still attached, you’ve done your job. Well, it’s not good enough.

And then, of course, there’s my refusal to use shampoo for the past 16 years – while encouraging a few hundred Sydneysiders to follow my example.

Shampooing – a completely unnecessary process that merely causes your scalp to produce more oil to make up for the oil you’ve just removed – takes about three minutes, and some people do it every day. I calculate I’ve saved 291 hours over those 16 years, and – through my encouragement of others – may have saved the nation a few thousand hours of wasted effort.

Why do we even apply shampoo?Credit: iStock

Many tell me they have stayed true to the faith for the 16 years since I launched my campaign. Their hair, they report, remains sweet-smelling and fluffy like that of a kitten. Some say it’s stopped them from going bald.

All the same, let’s confess, our revolutionary activities may have fed into the nation’s slapdash results when it comes to “hygiene and grooming”.

As far as I can tell, the McGill Research has yet to be reported in the UK. I just hope the Brits don’t spot our lowly score. All those jokes from the 1970s about poms and soap, dusted off and sent back our way. If it happens, I’ll accept some blame.

Meanwhile, the no-shampooing really does work. Give it a try if you are game – it’s usually six weeks of slightly-oily hair, after which you reach the sunny uplands of no-shampoo freedom, lasting a lifetime. And, speaking as a tightwad, think of the money you’ll save, as well as the chemicals that will no longer go down the drain.

With enough people signing up, we could even beat the Kiwis when, next time around, they give awards to the world’s great unwashed. It might be easier than beating them on the rugby field.

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