It's the bomb! Uh...is that a good thing?
Written: Apr 13 '01 (Updated Apr 19 '01)
|
Product Rating:
|
|
|
Pros: Something's happening in your mouth, and it's probably good for you...
Cons: ...it should be at this absurd price. Scary sound. May set off seismographic equipment.
The Bottom Line: A rip-off? Probably. But it probably works better than ordinary brushing, if you can stand palsy-inducing vibrations. Would not recommend to a friend; that's the dentist's job - and income.
|
|
|
| amycamus's Full Review: Sonicare Plus Model Pl 3 Sonic Electric Toothbrush |
A peculiar sound has recently been emanating from my upstairs neighbor’s apartment, and it’s driving me insane. It’s not quite that sound that keeps Woody Allen awake in “Manhattan” – “like someone sawing a trombone in half” – but it’s almost equally maddening, a kind of high–pitched, electric droning. I’ve inquired, but my neighbor claims not to hear it, and offers no theory as to what it might be,and is generally unhelpful, which has led me, in the confounded middle of the night, to wonder if, maybe, it’s just me. Thus, my first experience of putting the Sonicare toothbrush into my mouth and pressing the ‘on’ button not only nearly caused cardiac arrest, but also pushed me dangerously close to the edge of a complete mental collapse, as here was a device that made almost the SAME sound, only this time I was hearing it INSIDE my head. This was NOT an auspicious sign.
I already had multiple reservations about the Sonicare toothbrush, about 12,000 of them, in fact. I had just returned from my first trip to a dentist in over two years. I have always been blessed with a miraculously healthy mouth, and have never had so much as a cavity since childhood. So when my new dentist recommended $12,000 worth of dental care, I nearly volunteered to have all my teeth taken out, and switch to a permanent liquid diet - and I grew mighty suspicious as well. I mean, that’s almost as much as a monthly mortgage payment in San Francisco, and for that kind of money I’d expect solid platinum teeth with emerald and diamond inlays, and flashing neon on my incisors. Part of this extravagant outlay would go, I soon learned, to my purchase of the Sonicare toothbrush (Pro Series PR-2, “available only through dental offices,” but essentially the same as the model listed here on Epinions). The dentist strongly recommended this brush, and before I could open my cotton-filled mouth she’d brought me one in a J. Crew tote bag for me to take home that very day. I didn’t like this aggressive sales approach, and had years ago gotten up out of a dentist’s chair mid-examination and left the premises due to a similar attempt to shove merchandise and services down my extraordinarily healthy throat. But, my new dentist came highly recommended by a close friend, she made a good first impression, and thus far, I’d been receiving superb, utterly painless care, so my ire was muted.
Still, one of my initial reservations about the brush itself was its absurd, prohibitive cost. I felt like the drag queen character in Pedro Almodovar’s “All About My Mother,” who, when asked if the dress she’s wearing is REAL Chanel, exclaims in protest, “But of course not! With all the starving people there are in the world?!” How I, or anyone, could justify buying a $120 toothbrush in a world where dental care scarcely exists for the vast majority of people was beyond me. I mean, in places like Cuba or sub-Saharan Africa even an ordinary toothbrush is a valuable commodity. But my will, my sense of propriety (let alone my sense of justice) had been dealt a deft blow by the undeniable charm of my dentist and by my submissive, vulnerable position there, tilted back in a chair, with her working away at my mouth using extremely sharp implements. And so, I found myself an hour later standing outside on the street, clutching a J. Crew bag containing my new Sonicare toothbrush and wondering what the hell had just happened.
Now another reservation I had about the Sonicare, before I even got it near my mouth, arose out of something the hygienist, in helping my dentist with the hard sell, had said to me. “This toothbrush,” she opined grandly, “will not only miraculously brush away plaque build-up, but will also emit sonic waves which penetrate into your gums, and destroy the bacteria there.” She calmly continued, “It kills the bacterial cells by causing them to burst.” Well, wasn’t that a comforting image, I thought. So basically, I’d be sticking the dental equivalent of a neutron bomb into my mouth. What about the OTHER cells, the ones I actually needed? “These, it will not harm,” she smilingly reassured me in the manner of that Pentagon general who advised hiding behind a lilac bush in the event of nuclear war, but I’m still searching the clinical literature for information to the contrary.
A third reservation I had, as I opened the package on the way home on the bus, concerned the cord leading from the charger to the outlet. I’d been taught as a child not to stick my tongue into electrical outlets, and the mere idea of putting something electrical into my mouth seemed to shatter some of my most basic assumptions. But, I tried to reassure myself, at least the cord only ran to the charger, and not to the brush itself. My reassurance, however, had a short life, as I got the Sonicare brush home and discovered that not only was it the first toothbrush I’d ever seen that had an owner’s manual, but also it was the first toothbrush I’d ever seen that came warning of the risk of “burns, electrocution, fire,” and the disturbingly vague “injury.” Further damage to my desperately-gained reassurance came from the cheerful note inside the booklet offering “congratulations” on my ownership of the product. I mean, thanks very much, but after three hours in a dentist’s chair, $120 for the purchase of this thing, plus the threat of bankruptcy in the form of endless dental expenses, the high irony of “congratulations” seemed quite nearly cruel. I also found disturbing Mr. David Guiliani’s insistence, in this note, on informing me that the Sonicare technology was patented, and that behind his degreeless name he was CEO of the Optiva Corporation - hardly the kind of ego-less self-effacement one hopes for from a health professional.
The remaining $11,880 of my proposed bill, after I regained my senses, would of course never materialize; that’s another story not worthy of anymore space than can be taken up by the words “second opinion,” but I still had acquired the paragon of toothbrushes, and so got home that night to try it out.
I’ve already described my first, shocking confrontation with the Sonicare device, with its convulsing, irradiating sound, so let me continue, with details both impressionistic and practical. Once I’d somewhat recovered from the realization that I had entered a point in my life where I was being assaulted from without AND within by similar, unbearable sounds, I tried to get a grip on the vibrational aspect of what was occurring in my mouth. The Sonicare vibrates a LOT, which is I suppose what it’s intended to do, but I couldn’t keep at bay a mildly provocative thought that this device was meant for a completely different orifice, and that nothing like this belonged in anyone’s mouth. The vibrations were out of control. I felt as though I had an extremely angry bee on the end of a stick, which for some foolish reason I’d stuck between my teeth. One instantly obvious problem with so much vibration in a moisture-laden space (“31,000 pulses a minute!” – or what might have been about three to the dollar in my case) is that it tends to cause a lot of splashing and inadvertent drool. As I immediately discovered, it’s very easy to ruin an expensive cashmere sweater, dammit, if one doesn’t keep one’s mouth completely and tightly closed around the brush. Just for the sheer scientific fun, I urge any Sonicare user to dress in protective gear, load the thing up with a healthy amount of toothpaste, and experiment by letting it rip OUTSIDE one’s mouth. There’s a splatter effect that might have saved Jackson Pollock a lot of manic-athletic effort. Also, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I can breathe through my mouth and brush at the same time using an ordinary brush, and much prefer that to trying to regulate air through my nostrils while my mouth harbors a violently active electrical appliance.
But, as the shock - mercifully psychological rather than literal - subsided, a certain fascination with the sensational events happening in my mouth began to surmount my doubts and fears and reservations. Here I sensed a familiar fascination that comes with competence, with knowing that something is actually being accomplished, and being accomplished well. I could feel it; the Sonicare toothbrush went at my teeth and gums with a hitherto unknown cleansing power. Inside my violently bobbing head, it roamed the rugged landscape of my teeth seeking out every crevice, every hidden niche, every unexplored abyss. And my gums! My gums were stimulated, were responsive, were awakening from their long, somnambulant, dissipated slide into inevitable old age and resignation. I’m a somewhat irregular flosser, one of those dental patients who blush when asked about it, and I knew at this moment that I’d found salvation from further embarrassment, that the irregularity of my flossing would be compensated for, at least in some small part, by the dynamic action of this aggressively buzzing wand. In short, I was immediately hooked, at least for the time being.
Of course, there’s a long road ahead, and only time will tell if the Sonicare sonic toothbrush will truly come to the aid of my long term dental health, or if I’ll be able to withstand the noise and vibration. But at the moment, I’m using this new weapon to ward off a future dental bill that would stop Godzilla in his tracks. This isn’t a particularly scientific opinion, and I should probably revisit it after I’ve read through the clinical lit on that cell-bursting phenomenon, and have had a few additional trips to the hygienist, but somehow I feel, instinctively, that my dental health WILL improve with regular Sonicare use. So, I hereby give the Sonicare sonic toothbrush an extremely qualified positive recommendation, though when the revolution comes, don’t blame ME if you’re brought up on charges of owning one.
Finally, a few mundane details: the Sonicare Pro Series Solo Model PR-2 (solo??) comes with a charger which plugs into an ordinary electrical outlet, a tray with two brush heads (to be replaced every six months – the package even comes with decals to remind you when to replace, implying a degree of stupidity in the user which gives one pause about using the thing at all), and a cheap plastic travel case. Among the brush features is a beeping timer that allows you to conduct your four part (30 seconds each quadrant) mouth cleaning without, apparently, having to consult the second hand of a clock, perhaps one of the most frivolous features I’ve ever seen on any appliance. There’s a 30-day money-back guarantee, and a one-year warranty. The Sonicare ensemble does NOT look like anything that should cost $100 or more, and it's more than certainly likely that Mr. David Guiliani, and a bunch of dentists, have this nifty invention to thank for some probably extraordinary wealth. The other thing it comes with, here in California at the height of an acute energy crisis, is reproachful stares from neighbors who are doing their sacrificial best to conserve energy. Hopefully, you’ll be able to look them in the face in a few months, and flash a smile bright enough to show them that, shamelessly, you’re on their side.
Recommended:
No
|
|
|
|
Epinions.com ID:
amycamus
|
|
Location: San Francisco, CA
Reviews written: 13
Trusted by: 38 members
|
|
|
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.