If you’re plagued by BO, don’t worry, you can shirk the blame. It’s not you, it’s the bacteria colonizing your armpits. If you’ve found yourself at an impasse where not even the strongest deodorants cover up these stinky bacteria, you might consider an ironic solution: just add more bacteria.

Products marketed to balance the body’s microscopic helpers are a multibillion dollar industry that’s projected to keep growing, fueled by trendy beverages like kombucha and probiotic supplements. What about our out-ards though? We’re so eager to eat and drink probiotics that we’ve neglected the potential benefits of cultivating a healthy skin microbiome, even though it can have a profound influence on body odor and skin complexion. Companies like MotherDirt sell bacteria laden body sprays that claim to reestablish healthy communities of odor eating skin bacteria—but only if one swears off soap and showering. That's a tough sell for our hygiene-obsessed culture.

Unfortunately, this excessive cleanliness is precisely the problem. “Your sweat doesn’t produce any odor, so your odor is really from the microorganisms that are drinking or eating your sweat,” says Dr. Julie Horvath, an armpit bacteria expert at North Carolina Central University. With daily showering, and excessive use of soaps and shampoos, “we’re wiping out all of the good bacteria,” Dr. Horvath explains. In an armpit undefended by good bacteria, the smelly ones easily take over and produce BO.

But what if the average guy could beat bad bacteria at their own game by overloading his underarms with a dose of good bacteria instead, to fight fire with fire using a sort of kombucha for the armpits? A quick search revealed that there’s a fringe market for probiotic deodorants that claim to do just that. I took them for a test drive in my armpits.

Probiotic Deodorants We Tested

Handcrafted HoneyBee (Spice & Tweed), $14.50SVBotanicals (cedarwood), $8.95DeFunk (tribal), $9Island Deodorant (unscented), $12Dirty Stash Bath Company (cedarwood lime), $10

I picked out five deodorant brands ranging in price from $9-$15. The products rely on clay and starch to soak up sweat, baking soda and essential oils for combat odor, and plant butter and wax to maintain shape, rather than chemicals reported to have negative health impacts. The all-naturalness of these ingredients sometimes translates to ineffectiveness, as anyone who's experienced a Tom's of Maine deodorant crisis can attest to. What probiotic deodorants have that other natural brands lack are billions of “good” bacteria, ready to hit the armpit front lines and compete with their stinkier counterparts.

I wore each natural deodorant for three days, and each time I tried to put myself in many sweat-inducing or stressful situations. I went to the gym and exercised, which I almost never do, and sang songs that are out of my vocal range at karaoke, which I almost always do. I took the stairs and wore thick knit sweaters. I watched cable news. These past couple weeks I've been more hyper-conscious of body odor than a high schooler with first period gym class. But did I smell? With most brands I tried, not bad, per se. In summary, I'd say the natural probiotic deodorants made me smell like a yoga studio: dominantly patchouli, but with sweaty undertones. I got the sense that if I didn’t reapply after 24 hours it would be trouble.

Recognizing that my own two pits didn’t make a rounded study, I coerced a cohort of men—a scientist, a surgeon, and an architect—into agreeing to be guinea pigs for the brands that worked the best for me.

“I don't like the smell at first and I definitely didn't trust it to last,” said the architect of the cedarwood scented SVBotanicals stick he tried. “But over time it seems to meld with your body and not smell so much like cardboard.” Good news, I think. He decided to keep the deodorant, saying he liked that a more neutral smell allowed him to use cologne.

The surgeon liked the “Tweed & Spice” scent of the Handcrafted HoneyBee brand he tried but couldn’t get over the waxy texture that apparently yanked out his underarm hairs. Despite the unpleasant application process, he noted that it worked well; he still smelled like Tweed & Spice even after performing a five-hour kidney transplant. He did note one strange side effect, however: his dog became obsessed with his armpits. He declined to keep using the product.

Of all of us, the scientist had the least positive experience with his brand: DeFunk, a stick of deodorant studded with herbs and a scent described by the company as “tribal.” Not only did application result in hair pulling, "it really only kept the funk away for half a day,” he said. He also admitted to a BO-induced anxiety that continued for several days post-trial. He returned the stick of DeFunk.

In theory, probiotic deodorants could work, but in practice the efficacy of these products varied brand to brand and person to person. If you're intrigued, give SVBotanicals a whirl, or if you're down with a little hair pulling, the Handcrafted HoneyBee seemed to work the best, smelled great, and was the closest to a conventional deodorant, if a bit expensive.

Overall, my consensus is that probiotic deodorants are not ready to take the market by storm. The most excited about these products were those that didn't actually use them: Dr. Horvath, the armpit expert, who just wants to study them in the lab, and the surgeon's dog, who just wants to roll around in poop. Trying out these products was fun in the same ways that buying a kombucha, taking a Bikram yoga class, or making your friends smell your armpits is fun. But if you don't get a kick out of those things, then probiotic deodorants probably aren't for you.