Of all the rooms in my house, my favorite is the bathroom. Bedrooms and kitchens have their charms, sure, but neither approaches the bathroom’s blend of solitude and comfort. The bathroom is where magazines are read and ideas are generated; where a modicum of privacy and a moment of respite is possible. A good bathroom break is like a small-scale spa visit—a few minutes of self-care that can make the rest of the day a little more bearable.For month two of my self-bettering experiment, I’m going to overhaul my bathroom—testing products, speaking to experts, and adopting the latest methods to make the most of my morning ablutions. What kind of toothbrush should I be using? How should I shower? Which brand of toilet paper is best? My goal is to make my bathroom as comfortable as possible—a luxurious Shangri-La retreat that will leave me coddled and rejuvenated.
The Toilet
My quest starts with the centerpiece of any bathroom: the toilet.
In his 1966 book The Bathroom, which is still considered the bible of bathroomology, Cornell professor Alexander Kira called the modern, sit-down toilet “the most ill-suited fixture ever designed.” Kira believed—and subsequent studies have confirmed—that toilets work against our bodies by forcing us into unnatural angles when we sit down to defecate.
The solution to hunched-over posture, Kira wrote, is squatting—a more natural position that opens the anal sphincter, moves the body’s plumbing into proper alignment, and allows us to evacuate more freely. A 2003 study published in Digestive Diseases and Sciences found that squatters took an average of 51 seconds to move their bowels, as opposed to 130 seconds for those sitting on a standard high toilet. A more recent study by a group of Japanese researchers found that “the greater the hip flexion achieved by squatting, the straighter the rectoanal canal will be, and accordingly, less strain will be required for defecation.” Our caveman ancestors, in other words, had it right.
I’m a renter, so I can’t exactly tear my toilet out of the wall and replace it with a hole in the ground. But I did figure out one way to replicate the pre-plumbing experience. I ordered the Squatty Potty, a nine-inch-tall stool ($24.99 on Amazon) that sits on the ground in front of your toilet.
“It’s all about basic mechanics,” Robert Edwards, the CEO of Squatty Potty, told me. “It’s about taking it back to the way it was done thousands of years ago.”
There are two ways to use the Squatty Potty, Edwards said. The easy (and recommended) way is to put your feet up on it while sitting down on the toilet, which raises your legs and simulates a shallow squat. The even more effective, harder way is to stand on the Squatty Potty and lower yourself into a deep squat, either hovering over or barely touching the seat while you do your business.
I experimented with both methods for several days, and I found the hard-core one more satisfying. It makes going to the bathroom easier, and it saves time. I used to dawdle on the toilet, finishing long New Yorker articles and completing tough Candy Crush levels. But with the Squatty Potty, that’s impossible. After 30 seconds of deep squatting, your quads start to burn, so you learn to finish your business, wipe, and move on.
After testing the Squatty Potty for a week, I decided to venture to the other end of the comfort-efficiency spectrum. I e-mailed Brondell, a company that makes high-end toilet seats, and asked for a review model of their top-of-the-line model, the Swash 1000. The Swash 1000 ($599, Brondell.com) is a marvel of modern engineering. It has two bidet attachments (one in back, one in front for “feminine” washing), a heated seat, an electric air dryer, and options for sanitizing and deodorizing your toilet bowl. I installed it on my toilet in about 10 minutes.
Bidets haven’t caught on in the U.S., but there’s a reason they’re standard in most European countries: They’re cleaner and more civilized than wiping with paper alone. (Alexander Kira, the late bathroom expert, agreed: “Many are prepared to complain about a tomato sauce stain on a restaurant tablecloth,” he wrote, “whilst they luxuriate on a plush seat in their faecially stained pants.”) The first squirt of the Swash 1000’s bidet attachment shocked me—I jumped off the seat in surprise. But the second and third were less abnormal. And by the fourth, I was hooked. The Swash 1000 isn’t the most luxurious toilet fixture on the market—that would probably be the $6,000-plus Kohler Numi toilet—but it is one of the best things I can put in my bathroom without violating my lease. (A warning about the Swash 1000, though: It makes sitting on the toilet so pleasant that you’ll end up staying for much longer than normal. Adjust your social calendar accordingly.)
While enjoying my bidet seat, I experimented with several types of toilet paper. Consumer Reports’s favorite brand, White Cloud 3-Ply Ultra Soft and Thick, is good—thick, soft, not too expensive —but I preferred Quilted Northern Ultra Plush, which felt like a soft chamois cloth. I also tried several other toilet accessories, such as Cottonelle wet wipes and something called the Bottom Buddy ($36.20 on Amazon), a plastic stick with a grabbing mechanism on the end that holds a wad of toilet paper and makes it possible to wipe with minimal effort. (It’s meant for people with physical impairments but also works for the truly lazy.) But neither struck me as necessary, especially now that I’ve got the Swash 1000.
The most far-out solution I tried was based on a 2005 study by Korean researchers that found that people who received an abdomen massage using essential oils had an easier time overcoming constipation. To test this finding myself, I ordered some vials of lemon, peppermint, and rosemary oils and tried rubbing my belly with them before I went to the bathroom. I’m not sure whether it helped, but it did make me smell like a Yankee Candle store for the rest of the day.
