‘The Nose Knows’ – According to Laundry Evangelist Patric Richardson, Sniffing Is Believing

He spits warnings, one after another after another, like chewed sunflower shells … but each warning echoes like thunder, thunder, thunder. He cites texts and tomes, ancient and justified, as irrefutable proof of his horrifying admonishments. He describes things which may have been made real in the real world or may live only in the fiery aftermath of temptation.

He is the Evangelist, and he’s here to save your immortal soul from eternal immolation … whether you like it or not. Well, more accurately, he is an Evangelist. There is more than one sort — this sort is merely the most familiar sort. 

Another Evangelist cut from a wholly different cloth is based out of the Mall of America, and he doesn’t want to save your soul — he wants to save your skin. And maybe your nose, too. And definitely your fabrics. He is Patric Richardson, and he is…

…the Laundry Evangelist. 

“I love ‘Evangelist’ because I think it’s fun … and I like to have fun,” Patric Richardson says, explaining his title. “The Laundry Evangelist is about telling other people about laundry.”

And that Patric Richardson has done. From his Mall Of America-centric laundry camps, to his features on HGTV and Discovery+, to his two best-selling books, to his appearances on morning infotainment programs (where he often turns eye-rolling skeptics into doe-eyed believers), Richardson has become famous by preaching a gospel which told the great unwashed that cleaning their clothes need not be a chore — it can be a celebration of appreciation. 

Put another way: washing clothes can actually be fun. 

His latest sermon, delivered from his MOA store, Mona Williams, brings the Laundry Evangelist’s celebration to a new level, the level of your old schnozzola. 

“Everything with my name, the Laundry Evangelist, on it up to this point has been scent-free — that was a big deal to me,” Richardson recounts. “But we had so many people who wanted a fragrance … so the only way to do that was find somebody who did it the best.”

The Laundry Evangelist scrubbed the globe, searching for an apostle who might help him create a detergent that could extend the joy of laundry to his customers’ olfactory tracts. Specifically, he sought out a perfumer, a professional who crafts customized scents by blending aromatic chemicals and natural ingredients. 

Richardson found his acolyte of aromas in Provence, France, in the form of the luxury home care brand, Maison France Luxe. 

“I knew right away that I wanted three kinds of fragrances,” the Laundry Evangelist catalogs, “a green one, a floral one and an earthy one.” 

This began what might have looked like a trans-Atlantic tennis match played with nostrils and samples instead of rackets and balls. Richardson discloses the process:

“The perfumer submits the scent profile. Then you tell them, ‘I want it greener, I want it more floral, I want it figgier,’ whatever it happens to be. Then you keep going back and forth until you get the scent that you want.” 

All of this professional sniffing eventually paid off when the three dirt-defeating liquid detergents finally came into sharper focus(es): Linge Frais, or Fresh Linen, which Richardson likens to “standing in a field in the middle of the summer, and then there’s a breeze”; Rose Française, or French Rose, which Richardson likens to “an 18-year-old running through Versailles”; and Figue Du Morac, or Moroccan Fig, which Richardson likens to “something dark and moody.”

Each scent is designed to stand out, but they enjoy some commonalities, as well. “All three fragrances are very sexy, and that’s intentional,” Richardson confirms. “I wanted each one to evoke a mood. I wanted them to feel vibrant.” 

The detergents’ non-smelly ingredients had to pass a smell test of their own. 

“They have to be clean,” the Laundry Evangelist proselytizes. “Anything I put on me, it has to be safe. There’s nothing in it that’s harmful to you or to your clothes … both of those things have to work. It’s clean, they wash clean, but they leave the fragrance — that’s what I wanted.” 

It turns out that, where the new fragrances are concerned, accommodating direct customer input is good for business. 

“People love them,” Richardson reports, “and they’re responding.”

And Patric Richardson is responding to the response, remembering that these scented dirt-busters are merely a natural extension of why he became the Laundry Evangelist in the first place. 

“I want people to have fun with their laundry,” he proclaims. “Things are dark, and if doing some laundry makes you happy, it’s awesome.” 

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