Miracles come in all shapes and sizes, and this particular one came to me via a bubbly expat named Molly residing in New York by way of Melbourne, Australia. She quickly extended her stay in Manhattan but had her trepidations — not about finding a job or place to live, but rather about what she would do when she had inevitably squeezed out all that was left in her sole tube of Lucas Papaw ointment.
“Paul Paul?” I ignorantly asked. “What’s it made from? Unicorn poop and rainbows?” It is not. Upon further inspection, it’s simply freshly fermented papaya and can aide chafing, insect bites, burns, cracked skin, “nappy rash” and the list goes on. I understood it to be the Australian iteration of vaseline, but less goopy and with a subtly sweet flavor. I kind of wanted to simultaneously eat it and smear it all over my face.
Much to Molly’s dismay, a fellow expat pick-pocketed her at a party, bolting off victoriously, paws firmly clutching the Papaw. An Australian friend later gifted her a dozen tubes, one of which she let me keep. Now I never leave the house without it and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say I am somewhat of an addict. It has held me close during this horribly dry, frigid winter and keeps my lips and hands from cracking into 8 trillion pieces. The best part is that Net-A-Porter now carries the miraculous concoction so if/when I lose mine I will only have to panic for 3-5 business days.