Created in California: How Dr. Bronner’s became the soap for every subculture

VISTA, Calif. — Officially, there are 18 ways to use Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soaps: The same amber liquid you rub on your body doubles as a toothpaste, a fruit and vegetable rinse, a decongestant, a laundry and dishwashing detergent, a shaving cream substitute, a floor-mopping solution, a shampoo for you or your dog, and a toilet bowl cleaner.

In the company’s earlier days, its eccentric founder crammed even more suggested applications onto the text-heavy, world peace-espousing labels that have become a hallmark of the cult brand. The multitasking soap, Emanuel Bronner promised, could kill fleas and ticks — until the Environmental Protection Agency made him change the language (he amended it to “cleans fleas and ticks”; today’s updated version says “ant spray!”).

There was also Dr. Bronner’s — he wasn’t actually a doctor — assertion that the product, made primarily of water and plant oils, could prevent pregnancy.

“I think my grandfather was going off of, if you change the pH of the environment, a fertilized egg would be unviable — so if you wash with the soap after intercourse, then it would functionally act as birth control,” said Lisa Bronner. “That wasn’t the road that we wanted to go down.” (The family-owned company backed away from the claim after its founder died in 1997.)

Perhaps inspired by that experimental ethos,