When I hear the word “swan,” I think of a few things. Grace. Elegance. The color white. Bjork. Overwrought symbols of romance. Ostentatious pool floaties. And, because the folds of my brain are lined with a freakishly encyclopedic knowledge of sex toys, I think of a line of rechargeable vibrators called Swan. Swan is not the manufacturer. The toys are actually produced by BMS Factory, a company that prefers to mysteriously hide behind the names of their various toy lines. They make the favorably-reviewed Leaf and PalmPower lines, others called Pillow Talk and Lux, and the motors in some stuff from Jopen. If you’ve ever seen the phrase Powered by PowerBullet® stamped onto a sex toy box or printed in marketing materials, the toy’s made by BMS. Counter-intuitive . . . read more

I’ve never told you much about my labia, but I guess now’s as good a time as any. I’d describe my outer labia as puffy, yet unobtrusive. My inner labia? Visible but modest. Usually, my labia don’t cross my mind often… but then the Dame Eva came along, and suddenly I was digging around in there like a raccoon foraging through the garbage. Engineered with the wishful thinking that the vulva is merely a puzzle to be solved, Eva is a rechargeable vibrator with flexible arms that tuck under the labia to secure the toy to one’s vulva, against the clitoris. It’s sort of a modern-day, body-safe take on the laughably-bad strap-on vibrators of yore (see: “I am not easily embarrassed when it comes to sex toys, . . . read more

[This post is an April Fool’s Day joke. However, because I am very dedicated to my jokes, I actually did do all these things.] Perhaps “tiny” is condescending. “Diminutive”? “Miniature”? “Wee”? I don’t want to be flippant or rude, but it’s an objective fact that these dildos are roughly 1/60th the size of their, shall I say, phallotypical counterparts. This is not going to be girth mania. Lowing your expectations for pleasure might be a good idea. Rewiring your brain, wiping all data about previously-experienced insertables: encouraged. Over the years I’ve amassed quite the collection of tiny silicone dildos from Tantus, Bad Dragon, Fun Factory, and Vamp. They accumulate in my purse, come home in my suitcase from conferences, and materialize in crevasses of my life. One time I found one, inexplicably, in . . . read more

Why does Jimmyjane still exist? That’s mean. I know. I should delete that. I should write a new first sentence, something less hopeless and definitive. But sitting down to tell you about Jimmyjane’s recent releases, that is the question that pops into my head. Why, year after year, do they create products with little to no understanding of human needs? Why do they fail to improve upon anything, to move forward in any meaningful way? Why do they insist upon peddling $4,000 bouncy sex castles and $35,000 private jet rides rather than getting people off? Take, for instance, the Form 5. This is the fifth vibrator in the Form series, after we’ve been subjected to a glitchy tooth, malformed tongue, bowling pin, and an insertable vibrator with its . . . read more

[L’Amourose shut down, sadly, but the SenseVibe is similar to the Rosa.] It’s not often that a new sex toy company comes out of the woodwork with a product that immediately garners critical acclaim — but that is exactly what happened with the L’Amourose Rosa. Reports of deep, rumbly vibrations echoed through the blogosphere. My eyes narrowed. My fingers tented. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, a challenger had appeared to rival my all-time fave, the LELO Mona 2. The Rosa comes in two versions: the original ($180) and the Rosa Rouge (a heated version — $240). First notable thing: these toys are really fucking expensive. $180 for a rechargeable insertable toy is unusual enough, and tacking on $60 for the heating element is nearing highway robbery. With no track record of . . . read more

I have now formed a conditioned response whenever I hover over a link and see the URL indiegogo.com. It’s a mixture of terror, disgust, and exasperation, which, upon clicking, either bubbles into rage or fizzles into mild interest, depending on the product advertised. The Minna Limon fell into the latter camp, but my initial thoughts were still mostly negative: Are we going to have to crowdfund all our vibrators now? Goddamn. “No cumbersome speed settings” — OH, OKAY. Is there some sort of rule that if you have a crowdfunding campaign for a vibrator, you must show it in a glass of water? Then I found out it was only coming in pink and teal, and despite my intense love for teal, I was like “really . . . read more

The Gigi used to be one of LELO’s flagship toys. A true fan favorite. The kind of toy people would keep on their wishlists for years, save up for, tell all their Tumblr friends to buy. But I am officially revoking that honor; I’m using the past tense. The Gigi has not kept up with the times. I tried the first Gigi in 2009, back when I was still wowed by rechargeable toys and slick packaging. It was “elegant,” I conceded, but I was disturbed by the high-pitched whine it emitted — and disappointed by how short it was. Although my vagina had yet to become a black hole, I still found it too petite. When rumblings about a Gigi 2 started surfacing, I . . . read more

Have you ever looked at a jump rope, bike lock, thighmaster, or lasso and thought, “oh hey, I bet that’d be good in my vagina”? Yeah, me either. And so, I was prepared to hate the Magic Banana, because: 1. Just look at it. 2. It’s called the Magic Banana. 3. Just look at it. 4. It came with a “note on empowerment.” 5. Just look at it. COMING SOON TO A VAGINA NEAR YOU! TOTAL AND COMPLETE EMPOWERMENT! THE REVOLUTION WOMEN HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR! THE REVOLUTION WILL BE VAGINIZED! FEMINISM OVER! Truth from a friend: “I feel like that’s not how empowerment works… people don’t mail it to you.” Shrink wrapped in a box patterned like a banana leaf, the Magic Banana is . . . read more

The .GIFs did me in. The mesmerizing, neverending .GIFs. I stared at them in a trance, focusing my attention on the PS-spot (perineal sponge), thinking of what it would be like to discover something else as amazing as my G-spot. The .GIFs promised so much glorious stimulation. I wanted it all! And then suddenly the Split Dildo was on my desk, and oh dear god, I had to put that thing inside of me. It came all the way from Russia. It came in a flimsy red box. Inside, there was nothing save for the toy sealed inside the thinnest of plastic bags. Out of the package, the dildo smelled like tires. It did not have a manual or instructions of . . . read more