Author: Kate Sloan

5 Things I Learned From Working in Sex Toy Retail

Kate Sloan
One time I worked on Halloween…

Though it’s been a year and a half since the last time I set foot behind a sex-shop sales counter, I still remember my sex toy retail days as some of my fondest. It was a job quite unlike any other in my employment history, and I say that as someone who had already been working in sex media for years at that point. Nowhere else do you get so up-close-and-personal with everyday people – not just the clued-in, sex-positive crowd – trying to expand their sexual horizons. It may be just another shitty retail job, but it’s also a magical and unparalleled experience!

Here are five big things I learned in my stints as a sex toy saleslady…

1. People are – still – really nervous and insecure about sex. People who sell sex toys wholesale or online get to see some of this, perhaps in the forms of email, Instagram DMs, and the like – but it’s working in a physical shop that really exposes you to customers’ fears and neuroses. I watched middle-aged moms pace the vibrator aisle biting their nails; I helped men pick out toys meant to compensate for the boners they feared they’d never get back; I showed giggling teenagers how to operate their first-ever vibes. It was always my mission to try to impart a sense of casual confidence around sex via my speech and behavior – which sometimes involved putting on a poker face – because what else is a sex shop employee really for?

2. There are soooo many weird sex toys out there. And I am using the word “weird” in the most affectionate way, I promise. The shops I worked at bought through sex toy wholesale suppliers, and sometimes just loaded up their orders with whatever looked interesting or sellable – which sometimes meant our sales floor would be stocked with giant fist dildos, glow-in-the-dark enemas, and vibrators that doubled as jewelry. You see a lot of strange shit as a sex toy reviewer, but I saw even more strange shit at sex shops, and it delighted me.

3. I like work that’s variable and challenging. Previous office jobs (not to mention, monogamous relationships…) had taught me that monotony saps the life force from my soul. Work that engages you is a privilege, and I’m so grateful I’ve been able to find it in so many forms. Working at a sex shop may get boring on occasion – for example, when you’re putting price tags on dozens of lingerie sets, or mopping the lube aisle after yet another spill – but the one-on-one interactions with customers were totally unpredictable from day to day. I could talk to a brassy grandmother buying her 8th Magic Wand, a meek teenager coming in for a harness and dildo, and a fast-talking sex worker picking up some lube before her next rendezvous, all in the same day. Amazing!

4. Even sex toys can get boring after a while. Look, I said the people were interesting; not all the toys were! I bet people who work in the lube production, wholesale sex toys, and sex toy marketing world also find this to be true: after a while, almost nothing can shock you anymore. Customers giggled daily at the giant arm-length dildos we carried, or the horse-tail butt plugs, but I was so blasé that I was just like, “Yeah? And?” This is why it’s funny to me when people worry that they’re going to freak out a sex shop employee with their “out-there” request… If they’ve been working there for a while, they’ve probably seen it all.

5. A little empathy goes a long way. I don’t mean this in a super-salesy way – “establish commonality with the customer so they’ll be likelier to drop some cash!” – but an empathetic approach to sex toy sales really does help. People want to feel listened to, understood, and normalized – and as a sex shop employee, I think you encounter more opportunities to do this type of emotional service than almost any other kind of retail worker. I never took that responsibility lightly.

Have you ever worked at a sex shop? What did the experience teach you?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Monthly Faves: Sword Cocks & Pink Sparkles

Kate Sloan

Nope, I’m not April-foolin’ you… Here are the sexy things I enjoyed in March!

Sex toys

• A trip away from home with less-than-satisfactory vibes left me appreciating my Eroscillator Top Deluxe and Magic Wand Rechargeable even more than usual. There are reasons they’re my near-constant go-to’s: their vibrations are rumbly, they’re intuitively designed, and I never want to throw them across the room mid-session for making me numb and keeping me from getting off. *cough*

• I used my good old NobEssence Seduction dildo a couple times this month, and damn, it’s still an out-of-this-world G-spot stimulator. I’ve also noticed that if I’m turned on enough, using enough lube, and angling it just right, it can graze my A-spot the tiniest bit. Neat!

• SheVibe sent me something new and weird: Blush Novelties’ Drago “sword” handle and a couple of lock-on dildos to go with it. Essentially it enables you to feel like you’re fucking yourself (or a partner) with a sword, which is certainly somebody’s fantasy! My partner and I tried it once and liked it more than we were expecting to. Full review to come!

Fantasy fodder

• My partner and I have been re-watching The L Word (well, it’s his first time watching it, but my… I dunno, 4th?) and I am struck all over again by how hot Shane, Bette, and Dana are. Almost everyone on that show is hot but those three are the ones I’ve pictured fingerbanging me with their strong arms in my private moments.

• M’dude tried his hand at rope bondage for the first time this month, in a hazy scene that involved me being blindfolded and in trance. It was nice to feel like a vacant-brained doll he could move around to suit his needs. I always forget just how much I love being tied up until it happens…

• Still reminiscing fondly on a blowjob I gave my partner while he was sitting in a gorgeous blue velvet armchair. I’ve been saying for ages that I might have a velvet kink and, uh, yeah, that’s a thing.

Sexcetera

• I’m officially a columnist at Herizons magazine now! The first edition of my “Body Politics” column, which focuses on consent and culture, came out this month. It’s about forgiveness narratives and victim-silencing, and you can check it out digitally or in print.

• I submitted my first-ever Make Love Not Porn scene, so if you’ve ever wanted to watch me get high, jerk off, unexpectedly squirt on the floor, and accidentally knock my computer over, go rent it!

• I had occasion this month to reflect on how transformative it can be to pose for sexy photos taken by someone who thinks you’re hot AF. My love took some cute portraits of me in new lingerie and they made me feel better about my body at a time when I was pretty mad at it.

• Sextistics: this month my partner and I had in-person sex 15 times and phone sex 21 times, totalling 36 sex sessions!

Femme stuff

• I am obsessed afresh with Frederic Malle’s Carnal Flower, the bewitching scent I first sampled ages ago because it’s Helena Fitzgerald‘s favorite. It’s somehow both as fresh-scrubbed as a blonde soccer mom at a PTA meeting and as ruthlessly sexy as… that same mom, later, in lingerie she knows’ll make her husband wolf-whistle.

• My new phone case from SupplyBlingsShop is the sparkliest, most over-the-top item I own. It is truly on-brand. They also make a super gay one, if you’re into that.

• I’ve been getting back into a slouchy star-print cardigan I bought in 2013 and wore throughout university. Sometimes it’s nice to wear cozy old favorites and feel like you’re rubbing shoulders with the version of yourself you used to be.

Media

• I read a lot of books this month but one of my faves was Nobody Cares by Anne T. Donahue, a series of confessional essays about everything from social media to alcoholism to anxiety to death. It’s been optioned to become a TV show, so apparently I’m not the only one who loved it!

• The other best book I read this month was High Heel by Summer Brennan. It’s a brilliant meditation on the high-heeled shoe as a microcosm of gender politics.

• The Japanese House – a.k.a. the musical brainchild of androgynous wunderkind Amber Bain – has a new album out, Good At Falling. It’s a stunning reflection on loneliness, told through a bunch of absolute bops.

Little things

Didion and Pinter. Solo date nights in the Distillery. The way new clothes can reignite your sense of sartorial panache. Scribbling in a Moleskine with a Palomino pencil over a hot toddy at a cocktail bar. Wearing powerful lipstick to the airport so as to feel braver. Marathonning Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Bex while high. Good aftercare spreads. Interviewing people I find fascinating, and having them say, “Good question!” Tons of good theatre (Sondheim, [tos], MacIvor). The most beautiful hotel I’ve ever stayed at. Hanging out in a mysterious, exclusive park you need a key to get into. Writing naked in the morning. Scotch and ginger. Kale salad. Loading up on my fave strain. Good doctors. Blue leather. Eating fancy food while super high. Queer Eye. Afternoon naps with an eye mask on. Pictures of your beloved that really capture their beauty.

Reviews: FemmeFunn Diamond Wand + Bunny Massager

Kate Sloan

I’ve never been much for aesthetics when it comes to my sex toys. The way I see it, if all I’m doing with an object is shoving it inside me or holding it on my clit while I stare at porn or my partner, then who really cares what it looks like?

But of course, that view is reductive, and doesn’t take into account the broad range of ways sex toys’ aesthetics can feel affirming or exciting to their users. Just because I don’t look at my sex toys during use doesn’t mean nobody does. A toy that feels in line with your gender presentation and ideal aesthetic can take a sexual experience from good to delightful. That’s part of why I’m so glad FemmeFunn exists.

FemmeFunn makes – as their name suggests – whimsical, feminine-looking sex toys. While there’s some debate about whether femme means feminine and whether a sex toy can, in fact, be femme, I have sometimes felt my femme identity being affirmed by toys like these. Not all of this company’s products are super girly – they have a range of realistic cocks and some masculine-coded butt toys – but girliness is what they’re known for and it’s what they do best.

I requested two toys from their line: the insertable Diamond Wand and the clitorally-focused Bunny Massager. Let’s get into it, shall we?

It’s easier for me to talk about the Bunny Massager because my opinion on it is simple: I’m not a fan. I’d hoped I would like it because I’ve previously liked other two-pronged clitoral vibes, like the We-Vibe Gala and Jimmyjane Form 2. I like the way they wrap around the clitoral shaft rather than attacking the head of the clit like so many vibes do. It often makes them a better option for those of us with hypersensitive clits that protest when touched too directly.

This bunny’s flexible ears are optimally shaped and spaced for this type of stimulation: my clit fits comfortably between them, and their soft oval shape lets them stimulate both my clitoral shaft and the internal portions of my clit with aplomb. Or rather, it would, if this toy’s vibrations were rumbly at all.

But alas – this toy is buzzy as fuck. There’s very little gradation in intensity between the 7 different speeds and patterns, so it starts too strong and just gets stronger. The high-pitched, surface-level vibrations just annoy my clit and make it feel battered by sensation. I could get off with this toy, maybe, but it would take forever and wouldn’t even feel good, so what’s the point?

The Diamond Wand, by comparison, is a dream. Its bigger motor is rumblier, though still probably too buzzy to satisfy devotees of the Tango or Mona. Despite its name, it’s not a wand in the traditional sense – it isn’t Hitachi-sized or designed solely for external stimulation – but it does serve up power the likes of which I’d expect from a wand. My friend JoEllen even liked it, and she usually favors big-ass wands like the Doxy.

The Diamond Wand’s shape makes it useable either clitorally or vaginally (but not anally – no flared base), and I’ve enjoyed it both ways. Inserted, it lacks the curve it would need to please my G-spot or A-spot, but its vibrations are powerful enough that it still quakes those zones indirectly. Used externally, its pointed tip, bulbous head, and textured shaft all seem to conduct the vibrations equally well, so you can position it however feels best for you. It’s also got a fair amount of flexibility to it, which, as JoEllen points out, allows it to “wrap” around the body a bit, so you can stimulate, for example, the labia and vaginal opening at the same time.

Like the Bunny Massager, the Diamond Wand has very little variation in intensity between its many speeds and patterns – but it’s less of an issue with this toy because I can move it to different spots of my vulva more easily if I want to mitigate the sensation. The most annoying thing about this vibe, which is true of the Bunny Massager too, is that you have to scroll through all the modes using only one button. A single-button system is fine if your toy only has a few modes, but the Diamond Wand has twenty-one. Yes, that’s right: if you get overstimulated on a high vibration setting and want to get back to a lower one, you have to click a button about twenty times. I am someone for whom moment-to-moment shifts in vibration strength can make or break an orgasm, so this is a huge drawback for me and is the main thing keeping this toy from achieving top-drawer status.

So what’s my final verdict? At $74.99, the Bunny Massager is way pricier than a cheap watch-battery bullet and will numb you out just as badly, so you might as well not bother. FemmeFunn’s bestselling Ultra Bullet is much rumblier and only costs $69.99 (nice). The Diamond Wand is $89.99, and I think that’s a fair price for this versatile, vivacious vibrator – though if you tend to decrease and increase vibration speed a lot when you use vibes, you’d be better off with something that has more than one button, like the Lelo Gigi 2 or Jimmyjane Iconic Wand.

While these toys haven’t made their way into my top drawer, they do look nice on my nightstand. I’m pretty sure no object has ever distilled my gender identity quite like FemmeFunn’s bright pink and turquoise vibrators.

 

Thanks so much to FemmeFunn for sending me these products to try! This review was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

How I Became a Full-Time Sex Writer

Kate Sloan

Friends, this blog is SEVEN YEARS OLD today, and that feels absolutely wild to me. I was not always the delightfully busy, proverbial-phone-ringing-off-the-hook sex writer you see before you. Even people who seem like they sorta “have their lives together” had to start somewhere. I’ve read my hero Alexandra Franzen’s post “A chronology of my life as a professional writer” many times seeking answers and comfort, at times when it seemed like the writer thing just wasn’t going to work out… and so it feels like good scribe karma for me to explain, in a similar fashion, how I got to where I am now. As the youths are saying on Twitter nowadays: Buckle up.

2000 or thereabouts. I am a voracious bookworm, a semi-closeted nerd, a precocious weirdo at age 8. I spend hours chronicling my days in my Little Mermaid journal – and, secretly, penning erotica in my ornate Anne of Green Gables journal. Later, I will rip all the filthiest pages out in a bout of shame – but for now, the anatomically ill-informed trysts on those pages fill me with joy.

2006. I’m knee-deep in a musical theatre obsession, and believe, genuinely believe, I will be a Broadway performer someday. I devour all the books I can find on the subject – Audition, Making It on Broadway – and go to voice lessons and memorize monologues and make lists of my dream roles. One night, at a family party, during a discussion of all the kids’ various ambitions, my wise older cousin turns to me and says, “I think Kate will grow up to be a writer.” I laugh, because she’s wrong: clearly I’m going to be singing and dancing on Manhattan stages instead. Right?

2009. My (hot, British) English teacher pulls me out of science class to tell me my recent essay for him was exemplary and that he wants to use it in future lessons. My glee cannot be quantified. That same year, I win first prize in a student poetry contest, and I get to read my extremely gay poem onstage in front of a bunch of literary types. They give me a $100 bookstore gift card which I promptly spend on a lot of Bukowski.

2010. I take a Writer’s Craft class where I get to explore various different forms, ranging from Shakespearian verse to sitcom scripts. Later, one of my favorite teachers lets me take a one-on-one literature/creative writing class with her, tailored to my tastes and goals as a reader and a writer. She assigns me twisted fairytales, feminist essays, Angels in America. I write a play about romance, non-monogamy, and gender confusion, and they do a staged reading of it at my school’s Fringe Festival. I cry a lot in the aftermath, having heard my words in other people’s voices and been utterly lit up by it.

2011. That same teacher recommends me to Shameless magazine as someone they should profile, and they do. It’s my first appearance in a magazine, albeit not a byline. The article captures my frazzled artistic life at the time: improv, painting, poetry. I’m still not settled on the “writer” identity, though I’m getting there.

Early 2012. I take a year off between high school and university, trying to figure out what the hell I want to study. One night, at my commencement, I’m mesmerized by the ASL interpreter onstage, and ponder whether I should go to school for ASL translation, something I’ve often idly thought I might enjoy. But then I realize it would probably be best if I studied something I already know I enjoy and am good at… like… writing. Something clicks. I race home that night and write in my notebook: “MAYBE I SHOULD GO TO JOURNALISM SCHOOL??”

March 2012. I apply to a shitty retail job at a sex shop. I do some Googling about sex toys to make sure I know my shit incase they call me in for an interview – but they don’t. However, in the process, I discover sex toy reviewers like Epiphora and Lilly, and I think, “Hey, I could do that.” I start a Tumblr-hosted blog. I name it Girly Juice. “Could be a fun summer project,” I note in my journal.

April 2012. The owner of a website called Sex Toys Canada reaches out to inquire about a partnership. I’m still new to the sex toy reviewing game, so I eagerly negotiate a deal whereby I will get $140 in store credit each month in exchange for writing 2 articles for the company blog. I acquire my first “free” toys, including an Eroscillator, and feel like a business genius. (Over a year later, I will renegotiate and get them to start paying me in actual money. Only $50 an article, but still.)

September 2012. I start classes at Ryerson University’s School of Journalism. It’s hard – especially “streeters,” where you have to interview random people on the street for a story, the bane of my socially anxious existence – but I feel invigorated and inspired by the smart writers who surround me and the wonderful work I get to read every day.

2013. I get an unpaid internship writing and editing articles for a dating newsletter aimed at middle-aged women. A recommendation letter from my supervisor at the end of the summer says that I have “excellent written and verbal communication skills, [am] extremely organized, can work independently, and [am] able to effectively multi-task to ensure that all projects are completed in a timely manner.” I try to parlay the internship into a paying position, but they don’t go for it – probably, in retrospect, because their economic model hinged on not needing to pay people like me.

2014. I’m invited to write some pieces for on-campus publications, the Eyeopener and the Ryerson Folio; far from limiting me, my sex “beat” just makes people think of me first when they need a sex story written. A J-school colleague of mine interviews me for a story she’s writing for Herizons magazine about labiaplasty. In seeking out the mag so I can read the story, I realize they’d be a great fit for lots of the stuff I like to write about. I pitch the editor a feature story about toxic sex toys, and she loves it. My friends and family rejoice supportively about my magazine debut, a heavily-reported story called “The Greening of Sex Toys.”

2015. I attend a sex bloggers’ retreat called #DildoHoliday, and teach a workshop on generating content ideas and staying on task, since I am, according to one of the retreat organizers, “the queen of productivity.” Throughout the year, I’m interviewed for the University of Toronto campus newspaper, the Offleash podcast, Kinkly’s Sex Blogger of the Month feature, and Sex City Radio. Everyone seems suddenly interested in this weird sex writer girl.

Early 2016. I do my final-semester internship at the Plaid Zebra, where they let me write about sexual health, social psychology, and dick tuxedos. It gives me a taste of what it might be like to be a full-time staffer at a publication – and I discover that I think I’d rather freelance. I take a gig writing monthly articles for a sex toy shop’s blog, to supplement my growing income from blogging and journalism.

July 2016. I pitch an essay to the Establishment about dating faux-feminist men. They accept it, I write it, and… it goes viral. For several days, I basically cower in my bed, overwhelmed by the onslaught of tweets and trolls and threats. I wonder, many times, if the sex-writer life is really for me. I conclude that it is.

Early 2017. I work a sex toy retail job, briefly, before they fire me for no real reason. At first I panic about how I’m going to make ends meet, but then somehow the sponsored post requests and freelance story assignments pour in at exactly the right moment. The sex and relationships editor of Glamour reaches out via DM to say she loves my blog and would welcome any story pitches from me. I write for her – and Teen Vogue, and the Establishment, and Daily Xtra. I dutifully update my portfolio every time a new piece goes up. The Daily Mail writes about what a slut I am, and I’m terrified it’ll incite the trolls again, but it doesn’t, not really.

June 2017. I start my new dayjob as a social media writer for a firm that works with adult-industry clients. It’s 10-15 hours of solitary, largely self-directed work per week. The steady work allows me to relax and not worry so much about whether my more creative work will be able to support me. I stop shopping for button-downs and pencil skirts in a gesture of supplication to some future office-job self; I accept that maybe I am just A Person Who Works From Home Now, and that therefore it’s okay for me to buy star-print leggings and sparkly T-shirts instead.

Early 2018. A Spanish newspaper calls me “the Canadian Bridget Jones.” At my boyfriend’s urging, I pitch a story to a dream publication of mine, Cosmo, and they say yes. When it goes up, my perfect brother tweets, “My sister is now a Cosmopolitan-featured writer!” and I don’t quite believe it until I see his words.

Late 2018. I win an award from the Association of LGBT Journalists. I get nominated for Best Blogger in NOW magazine’s Readers’ Choice Awards. I write big meaty reported pieces for The Walrus and an op-ed for Herizons. I sell several sponsored posts a month, and do odd jobs copywriting and ghostwriting for various sex shops, dating sites, porn sites, and adult content creators. I do my best to follow Alex Franzen’s advice: underpromise and overdeliver. Then I’m invited to teach a sex writing class at the Naked Heart Festival and it validates me, affirms me. This is really my career. Wow.

2019. Herizons offers me a column; I accept. I do more copywriting and ghostwriting and social media writing. I pitch, and write, and network, and brainstorm. The sex writer life, to my delight, goes on.

 

Big takeaways, if I had to choose a few:

  1. Even if your heart is in a particular genre of writing, consider branching out into other areas. I wouldn’t be able to do my fun, creative blogging and essay-writing if it wasn’t supported at least some of the time by social media work, promotional copywriting, etc. – not to mention, going outside your comfort zone helps stretch your creative muscles.
  2. Pitch, pitch, pitch, and pitch some more. Pitch publications you would love to write for, not just ones you think would “let you” write for them. Aim high!
  3. Getting paid for your writing – particularly blogging – can be a slow, long haul. Don’t expect anything to happen overnight. It is more than okay to supplement your income with a dayjob along the way, and even once you become more established. We all gotta eat.
  4. Trolls, h8erz, and rejection letters from editors can all feel much bigger and more important than compliments, fan letters, accolades, and achievements – but they’re not. Do your best to let setbacks fade into your history; they don’t have to define you, as a writer or as a person.

Thanks for being here! It’s been a pleasure spending seven years with you – or however long you’ve been around. ❤️

Review: Le Wand Petite

Kate Sloan

When I emailed Pleasure Delights a list of toys I’d like to review, I secretly hoped they’d send me the Le Wand Petite. I’m always looking for a good mini-wand these days, now that I’m in a long-distance relationship and have a lot of sex in far-flung hotels. I don’t always want to schlep my Magic Wand Rechargeable across national borders or through TSA – so I’ve been looking for a smaller wand whose size doesn’t preclude it from serving up strong vibrations.

I wasn’t thrilled with the only other Le Wand product I’ve tried, their regular-size wand, because it was 1) too loud, 2) too buzzy, and 3) too obviously a complete Magic Wand ripoff, down to the identical button shape and same charger. But my friend JoEllen loves her Le Wands and I trust her taste, so I decided to give this brand another shot.

It helps that the Le Wand Petite is very, very pretty. Pleasure Delights sent me the rose gold one, and it gives me the same femme joy I reluctantly suppressed when I opted against getting a rose gold iPhone. Le Wand founder Alicia Sinclair set out to make wands more elegant and feminine-looking than the bulky, androgynous Magic Wand and its ilk, and I think she achieved that goal. Of course, that means that masc-of-center folks might not resonate with the Le Wand Petite’s aesthetic, especially since the only other color option is a luminous purple.

So what’s the deal with this rechargeable dynamo? It’s about two-thirds the length and half the width of a standard wand vibe, so if you want something small enough to throw in your carry-on, this could well be it. It even has a travel lock function, since they’re obviously trying to work the “jetsetter-approved” angle (I feel directly pandered to and it’s great). It’s very light for a wand, at only 0.47 lbs (versus the 1.3-lb MWR), which adds to its travel-friendliness and also makes it a more workable solution for people with strength/mobility issues (my chronically achy hands thank you, Le Wand). It even comes in its own little zip-up case, which is big enough to fit the wand, its charging cable, and another toy or two (I’ve been stashing my Fucking Sculptures Pussywillow in there when I stay away from home overnight). If you want a wand to accompany you on adventures, this is one of the best I’ve found for that purpose, along with the mechanically flawed Doxy #3 and the awkwardly shaped Jimmyjane Iconic Wand.

One of the major selling points of the whole Le Wand line is the flexibility of each toy’s neck, but I’ve always thought this was kind of an overrated feature. If someone is pressing a vibe firmly enough against their body to make the toy’s neck bend, probably that person likes pressure – and a flexible neck just lessens the toy’s ability to provide that pressure. But if you’re into that, for whatever reason, this toy’s got it.

The body-safe silicone head is smooth to the touch, but unfortunately it can’t be screwed off for cleaning, the way the top of the Doxy #3 can. The Le Wand Petite isn’t waterproof, so you have to be careful when you clean it – which I need to do often because this particular silicone formulation is an absolute lint magnet.

There are a lot of features of this wand that I enjoy, but ay, here’s the rub… While the toy’s marketing copy repeatedly asserts that its many patterns and speeds are “rumbly,” rumbly it is not. Its rumbliest speed is its lowest one, which can make me come on a very sensitive day, but it becomes progressively buzzier as you crank up the power. Due to the numbing effects of buzzy vibrations, sometimes turning up the Le Wand can make it feel like I’m actually turning it down, as the sensation slowly drains out of my genitals. This wand accompanied me on a sexy weekend in New York, and several times, I found myself grabbing the rumblier Tango mid-session instead, because… I can’t get off if I can’t feel my bits, y’know?

Granted, my threshold for acceptably rumbly vibrations is pretty high, seeing as my fave vibes are the MWR, Tango, and Eroscillator, all thrumming powerhouses. I think the average person would be plenty happy with the Le Wand Petite if it otherwise fit their specifications. But if you’ve ever gotten annoyed with a vibrator for making you numb, it’s likely you need something rumblier than this toy. I would suggest the aforementioned Doxy #3 and Iconic Wand, as well as the reportedly rumbly Inspire wand. You deserve orgasms you can actually feel.

Oh, and if you’re curious about the noise level – since that was one of my major complaints about the original Le Wand – this one is definitely audible from across a room, but not nearly as loud as its predecessor, and also quieter than the two highest settings on the MWR. So I’ve got no beef with it on that front.

I’m sure I’ll still reach for the Le Wand Petite from time to time; it’s stronger than most vibrators of its size, and I like how it looks and feels in my hand. But it’s not the ideal travel companion I hoped it’d be; when I’m out of my element especially, I want something reliably rumbly, not a toy I have to eke a tricky orgasm out of. I hope Le Wand will keep listening to customer feedback and making better products, because if this toy’s motor got a makeover, I’d be in love!

 

Thanks to Pleasure Delights for sending me this toy to review! This post was sponsored, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own.