Pssst; Wanna Get Lip Balmed?
Stephanie Salter
Tuesday, May 18, 1993. Page A15.
The tiny, milky-white glass pot slipped from my hand and hit the tile floor of
the bar. Then the little pot began to roll under the bar stools as I gave
chase.
In one unbroken motion, a young Richard Gere look-alike swept down, retrieved the
little pot and handed it back to me.
"I thought I recognized the sound of a Carmex jar hitting the floor," he said.
I believe it is the comedian Paula Poundstone who has a routine about Carmex
addicts. She jokes that there is a secret wing at the Betty Ford Clinic for such
people, and that they roam the halls begging for "just one little dip" of their
finger into a pot.
Carmex is a cold sore and chapped-lip salve that was invented in 1936 and made
mostly of menthol, camphor, alum and wax. As Carmex junkies know, this yellow
moosh is not just another lip balm.
Carmex packs a kind of rush for the kisser. Once you've felt this rush, it's
impossible not to want it again. And again. And again.
Then there are the little pots.
Although Carmex has been available since 1987 in small plastic tubes, the true
junkie consumes it only in its original and pure state, from milky-white glass
mini-jars.
An inch deep and the diameter of a half-dollar, a Carmex pot is not convenient,
modern or unobtrusive. In the back pocket of a pair of jeans, it makes you look
deformed.
So what? By the time you develop into a full-blown Carmex junkie - after the
first swipe is offered by "a friend" - it wouldn't matter if the container were
the size of a baby goat. You would carry it everywhere. And stash one in your car
and an extra in your desk and another on your nightstand.
The little pot is part of what the grandson of Carmex's creator calls, "the whole
gestalt of Carmex." Take the jar away and Carmex loses some of its mystery.
"The jars are kind of our trademark," said Paul Woelbing by phone from Carma Lab,
Inc., in Franklin, Wis. "You know, I can recognize the sound of one of those caps
coming off even in a big lecture hall."
Can't we all? The easiest way to discover a Carmex addict is to produce a little
pot and unscrew the yellow-and-black lid. An addict will pounce, index finger or
pinkie extended, and moan, "Ooooh. Can I have some?"
Paul Woelbing (pronounced WELL-bing) knows all about Carmex junkies. Every day,
mail arrives at the lab from people wanting to know if there is an addictive
ingredient in the stuff.
"One common suspicion is that we put a really terrible acid in it that roughs up
your lips and makes you need more Carmex," he said. "But the acid we use is
salicylic acid, which is aspirin. Another rumor is that we grind up fiber glass
and put that in."
At 36, Paul Woelbing is the treasurer of Carma Lab, Inc. Paul's father is vice
president. Paul's 92-year-old granddad - yes, the inventor of Carmex, Alfred
Woelbing! - is still the president, working 50-60 hours a week.
A practical man, Alfred Woelbing created Carmex in 1936 because he had cold
sores. He called the lab, "Carma," because he liked the sound of the word, and he
put "ex" on the end because "ex" was a very popular suffix back in the 1930s.
Never in Carmex's 56-year history have the Woelbings advertised or marketed their
product - unless you count "the $10 a year we spend for my dad's vanity (license)
plate," said Paul.
"I guess you might say we do business in a unique way," said Alfred Woelbing, who
joined his grandson on the phone. "Maybe our way of doing business is old-
fashioned, but it's successful."
Indeed, last May, Adweek praised Carma Lab as one of five, single-product,
U.S. companies that has continually bucked the downward trend of the
recession.
"Barely a week goes by that some large company doesn't want to buy out Carma
Lab," said Alfred Woelbing. "But our company is not for sale."
"We treat our business as an organism, and try to let it grow as one," said Paul
Woelbing. "Expansion? What for? As long as we're making a comfortable living and
everybody is happy, what more do you really need?"
Well, since you asked, Paul, how about a bigger container of Carmex? A hard-core
addict can make short work of even the largest size now available, the half-
ounce, $1.89-size.
"We sell an eight-ounce jar directly from here if people order it," said Paul
Woelbing. "It costs $9.50."
Do you hear that, junkies? Eight ounces of Carmex for under 10 bucks. And Carma
Lab's address is right on your little lid, in gnat-size type. At that price,
think of how generous you can be to people who've never felt the thrill.
Yes, over here, sonny. I've got something that will make those chapped lips feel
allll better. And the first hit is free.
Last updated on November 7, 1997
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