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10 Myths People Mistakenly Believe About Sex Toy Reviewers

Kate Sloan
Pictured, from L to R: the Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble, Fucking Sculptures G-Spoon, Tantus Tsunami and VixSkin Mustang

I’ve been doing this sex toy reviewer thing for a long time – over a decade, in fact – and there are a handful of myths about my line of work that I run into again and again. Let’s bust ’em, baby.

  1. We “masturbate for a living.” Look, I completely understand why so many people react to hearing about my job in a way that boils down to “Must be nice!” My career, indeed, involves an activity I love (writing), focused on subject matter I’m passionate about (sex). I’m extremely privileged to have a job I enjoy and can physically do, despite the chronic illnesses I live with. But I promise you, I only spend about 2% of my working hours actually masturbating, if that – and it isn’t “normal” masturbation because it’s for work, not for pleasure. I have to pay attention, take notes, compare different toys to each other, etc. rather than just being able to enjoy myself, and often end up ruining my own orgasms in the process. It’s a fun job in many ways, yes, but probably not in the ways you’d think!
  2. Sex toy reviewing takes no skill. Uh, nope. Most people can hold a vibrator on their bits or insert a dildo into their body; most people cannot summarize and analyze the cultural context of that toy, compare it usefully to several others in its category, write a compelling and well-crafted review, take photos to go with it, pre-emptively answer questions that consumers will wonder about, promote reviews effectively on social media, implement SEO, keep up with industry trends, and so on and so forth. As with media workers in any specialized “beat,” sex toy reviewers tend to develop their own skillset and style. To devalue that is to misunderstand the work and what goes into it.
  3. We are sluts who are always DTF. Oh, certainly some of us are. I have been at certain times in my life. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a slut. But don’t assume someone’s personality and entire life revolve around sex just because their career does. And certainly don’t assume you’ll have an easier time getting laid if you’re on a date with a sexual media-maker than with anybody else. I often feel pressured to live up to the “manic sexy dream girl” fantasy some people seem to have about me, and it sucks.
  4. We prefer using toys over having sex with human beings. There’s nothing wrong with people who do feel this way, but it’s reductive to assume someone will feel this way because their work focuses on sex toys. And, as ever, I must remind you: sex toys and human partners are not mutually exclusive. The two can and do coexist in sexual encounters. Most of my best sex ever has involved toys.
  5. We can’t find sexual partners because they’re too intimidated by what they do. I have to laugh and call bullshit on this one. Many of my sex toy reviewer friends are in high demand in their sex/dating lives, sometimes partly because of what they do, not just in spite of it. As for reviewers for whom that’s not the case, it’s worth noting that it doesn’t even fucking matter. The number of sexual partners you attract or pursue has nothing to do with your intrinsic value as a human being, or the quality of the work that you do. And if someone would judge you for something as innocuous as reviewing sex toys, IMO they’re not worth dating or fucking anyway.
  6. We’re also sex workers. Some of us are (kudos to those folks!), and I have dabbled in sex work myself and usually enjoyed it. But it’s strange to assume that someone writing about sex toys automatically means they’ll sell you nudes or a cam show, or that you’ll be able to meet up with them for sex, paid or unpaid.
  7. We sell sex toys. It continues to surprise me how often I get emails and DMs from people who think that I run a sex toy store, or who want me to supply them with wholesale sex toys to sell at their shop. I do not do this and have never done this, but there are plenty of great stores and distributors out there that do sell toys (including wholesale adult toys) if that’s what you’re after!
  8. Sex toy reviewing can only ever be a hobby. To be clear, there are a ton of people for whom sex toy reviewing is a hobby or a side gig, and that’s absolutely valid! But in my case, it actually is the vast majority of the work that I do, and brings in the vast majority of my income – so it’s funny and sometimes a bit insulting when people say stuff like, “Oh, fun! What’s your actual job, though?”
  9. We owe you details about our personal life. I get that when someone shares intimate details about themselves, it can be surprising that they’d choose to be private and guarded in other areas of their life. But one thing sex toy reviewing has taught me is that I can be selectively open. Good boundary-setting is an important part of the job, I think.
  10. We’ll regret it. I do know people who have regretted reviewing sex toys, often because they incurred harassment online, offline, or both, from people who thought that this work was worthy of denigration or evidence of some kind of moral failing. But a lot of sex toy reviewers use pseudonyms precisely so that they can do this work without (as much) fear of it coming back to bite them in the ass. I did that myself for several years, fearing repercussions if future employers stumbled across what I’d been writing – but then I realized that this was what I was meant to do, full-time, so I came out publicly about my name and identity and have never once regretted it.

What myths have you heard about sex toy reviewers?

 

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

What My Objectification Kink Taught Me About Relationships

Kate Sloan

There are many forms of “objectification play” that I’ve experimented with, and the older I get, the more I seem to enjoy this kink.

There’s the version where I’m a literal object, usually a piece of furniture like a footstool or drink-holder, performing a functional service that may not appear outwardly sexual but can feel very sexual on the inside.

There’s the version where I pretend to be a doll – either a literal, porcelain doll, or a full-grown adult who’s been transformed via hypnosis or drugs into a “human sex doll” – and then get to be “used” by my “owner.”

There’s the form of objectification that most non-kinky people are familiar with, the kind that shows up in fashion magazines and in plenty of porn, wherein I’m viewed as a sexual object without agency or personhood, just a series of willing and fuckable holes.

And there are lots more ways this kink can play out that I haven’t even tried yet.

 

As with many kinks of mine, a lot of what appeals to me about objectification is the way it helps me reclaim and subvert shitty nonconsensual experiences I’ve had in the past. All the Tinder bros who text shit like “u up?” and “ready to be my fuk machine tonight?” All the hookups who cared more about getting off than giving pleasure. All the times I thought I meant something to my date on an emotional level – even one as simple as “I like her and like having conversations with her” – but it turns out that apparently I didn’t.

The sting of these mistreatments has eased a bit after several years, but I can still bring those feelings vibrantly to mind if I focus on those memories. Because I’ve paired that type of objectification with consent and pleasure in roleplays with trusted partners, the idea of being sexually objectified in this way is no longer quite as abhorrent to me – because I know it can be done in consensual ways.

Granted, none of the people with whom I’ve play-acted objectification actually saw me as objects; that was what allowed the play-acting to indeed feel like play and not like senseless cruelty.

 

As someone who writes about sex toys professionally (including, occasionally, sex dolls), I find it oddly gratifying to pretend to be a sex toy of sorts from time to time. There’s something subversive and relaxing to me about setting aside the sexual machines I’ve been writing about all day and then getting to morph into a sexual machine myself.

See, when I’m being objectified in a deeply consensual and intentional way, my mind gets to shut off. And I value that a lot, as someone whose mind is always racing with anxiety and deadlines.

But also, in my career as a sex scribe, I’ve encountered countless people who thought that my career choice was an invitation for harassment and nonconsensual sexualization. They thought that my creative interest in topics like sexual psychology and the history of the porn industry was reason enough to see me as a walking, talking sex doll who exists to spice up their boring lives.

I understand the desire to have your life overtaken by someone interesting and magical – it’s the reason “manic pixie dream girl” stories continue to get cranked out year after year. It’s also something I’ve felt myself, during long hours of swiping on Tinder late into the night, always hoping that the next swipe would conjure a life-altering force, someone so cute and charming and kind and loving that my entire daily existence would take on a different tenor just from having them around.

But as I’ve been learning in therapy, viewing other people as potential “redeemers” or “saviors” gives your power away. It strips you of the knowledge that you have the ability to make yourself happy more readily and more profoundly than any external person can. It makes you feel dependent on people you never actually needed and maybe never even really wanted.

 

So I’ve been on both sides of the objectification equation: I’ve been objectified (a lot), and in some ways I’ve objectified other people too, seen them as heroes or saviors or props in my life story.

This is no doubt why it feels so good to me now when I play with objectification, from either side of the D/s slash. Because it shows me the difference between the consensual and nonconsensual versions of these dynamics – and even equips me with the communication tools I need to say, “No. Stop. You’re putting me in a role I didn’t consent to, and I will not stand for that.”

 

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

Review: Bombex Butterfly Desire Vibe Pro

Kate Sloan

Does anyone else remember when butterflies were all the rage in the sex toy industry, circa 2008-2009? First there were rabbits; then, suddenly, everyone was talking about butterflies.

The main one I remember was a wearable, remote-control butterfly-shaped vibrator that my friend-with-benefits owned around that time, but there were also dual-stimulation vibes and even cock rings made to look like butterflies. Not really sure what made this particular insect a sudden sex symbol. I do know that Jason Mraz has a whole song where he keeps referring to a vulva as a butterfly, though, and that my own vulva kinda resembles one when my labia are spread apart, so maybe that has something to do with it…

Anyway, today I’m reviewing the Bombex Butterfly Desire Vibe Pro, another beautiful butterfly-shaped product. It’s a dual-stimulation toy: the outer portion (the “butterfly” itself) uses pressure-wave technology to stimulate your clit, while the inner arm, when inserted vaginally, transmits vibration into your G-spot. Let’s talk about some of the benefits and drawbacks of this little bug…

 

Things I like about this toy:

  • The vibration of the internal arm is decently rumbly and strong, even on the first setting. There are three steady speeds and I’ve gotten off on the first one before, which is pretty impressive. The vibrations stay rumbly through all three speeds. I feel like I should have more to say about this, because it’s one of the most important qualities of any vibrator and Bombex got it very right here – but all I really have to say is that it’s rumbly and good and I like it!
  • The shape of the internal arm is such that it can hit my G-spot fairly easily, and feels great doing so. I love that it’s got a swollen head and a slightly slimmer shaft, because this makes its sensations more discernible to my G-spot and also makes it so that I can sort of fuck myself hands-free with the toy by clenching and unclenching my PC muscles rhythmically.
  • That last point is worth expounding upon more: this is a toy that stays inside me pretty well, even when I’m using it hands-free, but nonetheless will gently move back and forth against my body if I rhythmically squeeze my pelvic muscles. For me, this quality makes it way easier for me to orgasm with a dual-stimulation toy, because the additional motion on top of the vibration (+ in this case, pressure waves) makes the whole toy feel more stimulating.
  • The shape and size of the clitoral stimulator work well for me. It can’t stimulate as much of my clit as the large-mouthed Lelo Sila, but at least it doesn’t focus uncomfortably on the exposed tip of my clit like so many other toys of this kind. There’s a soft rim of silicone around the opening that makes the sensation feel gentler but no less pleasurable.
  • It’s made of body-safe silicone and ABS plastic!
  • It’s waterproof!
  • It has a remote control! Unfortunately I could not test this component because I had to fly to New York midway through working on this review and forgot the remote at home, but in theory I think it’s a great idea for a toy like this to have a remote. It makes it so that you can control the intensity without needing to reach into your pants/underwear every time (should you be wearing any), which could make this toy useful for public play.

Things I don’t like about this toy:

  • You can’t control the toy’s two functions separately. I know I complain about this in almost every dual-stimulation toy review I write, but if a toy does two different things to two different body parts, you should really be able to control each component individually, since different body parts don’t always want the same kinds of stimulation at the same time. On this toy, both functions are controlled in tandem by one button.
  • The outer portion of the toy has very little flexibility, which makes it so that if you have a particularly long or particularly short distance between your clit and vaginal opening, you might not be able to comfortably use both parts of the toy at the same time. (The distance from the middle of the clit stimulator to the top of the vaginal shaft is about 1.25″.)
  • Three steady speeds is not really enough. Granted, I’m generally not a fan of vibration patterns – but setting that aside, the fewer steady speeds a toy has, the bigger the jumps between each speed are likelier to be. Moving up to the next speed often feels jarring and takes me out of the moment a little, rather than encouraging higher and higher levels of arousal.
  • Having only one button means you have to scroll through all 10 settings to get back to a previous one. This is bad news for anyone who, like me, tends to turn the vibrations up and down a lot during any given session to help prevent overstimulation.
  • The vibrations feel stronger/rumblier/more impactful than the clitoral pressure waves, so sometimes all I can really feel is the vibration. However, I still get enough clit stimulation that I can come with this toy easily if I’m watching porn or otherwise engaging my brain in some sexy stuff.
  • As with most other pressure-wave toys, this one can make me orgasm easily but the orgasms aren’t always the most satisfying, and are sometimes immediately overtaken by discomfort as the toy keeps sucking my clit while I get hypersensitive post-orgasm.

Final thoughts:

There’s a lot I don’t understand about this toy. Why is it a butterfly? What are the wings and antennae supposed to do?* Why is there an illustration in the instructions that seems to indicate you can use the pressure-wave component on a partner’s penis while they’re fucking you?!

Overall though, I think the Bombex Butterfly Desire Vibe Pro is a good value for its price point ($60), assuming you want a dual-stimulation toy with pressure waves and the distance between your clit and vaginal opening is in range for this one to work for you.

 

This post was sponsored, meaning I was paid to write a fair and honest review of this product. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

*When reached for comment, a representative at Bombex told me, in response to these questions: “Women are like butterflies, representing beauty, freedom, rebirth and goddess. Women are like a butterfly, her wings unfolded. Sucking and vibrating at the same time. Stimulating the clitoris and G-spot to give you out-of-this-world orgasms. Women like butterflies. The color of the red rose symbolizes romance, love, beauty and courage. The antenna flirts with your secret desire. The two eyes turn into usb port for long-lasting pleasure and can be quickly recharged. They shimmer and glow in the moonlight and almost seem to come alive. Women are like butterflies. People say a butterfly cannot see the color of its own wings. Cannot see how beautiful they really are. We are butterflies. Even if you can not see it. Even if you can not see how beautiful you really are. Just know that BOMBEX MAKES YOU FEEL BOMB AF!” [sic]

My Weird Relationship with Foot Fetishism

Kate Sloan

Content note: This post contains some non-explicit, not-super-detailed descriptions of times that I was sexually creeped on by adults when I was a teen.

 

I’ve always had a complicated relationship to the foot fetish community. Some of my earliest memories of feeling creeped out and sexually taken advantage of are related to foot fetishism, unfortunately. But that just means I have to work harder to overcome my biases and embrace kinksters who approach this fetish in fully consensual, 100% respectful ways – unlike those who started harassing me online when I was 14.

I’ve been posting outfit photos on-and-off since 2006, and one thing that happens when you post outfit photos to an audience of any significant size is that you attract people who fetishize the stuff you wear. People flocked to my Flickr page to fawn over my leggings, my corduroy shorts, the leather gloves I’d occasionally put on for fancy events. Pretty much anything I ever wore, there would be somebody who’d fetishize it.

But unfortunately it was often the foot fetishists who were the most extreme in this behavior. Even when I was literally 14 years old, I would receive comments and messages from them regularly, demanding that I post more barefoot pics, wear more sandals, or even send them my old and unwanted pairs of shoes. Some of them would lie to me in order to achieve the result they wanted; I’ll never forget the one who told me he ran a “recycling plant” for old sneakers and would be happy to accept my donations. Even at 14, I saw right through that shit and called him out – but it made me feel deeply uncomfortable and violated nonetheless, to be so intensely sexualized by strangers who clearly just saw me as a body for their visual consumption.

It’s been 16 years since I first started posting outfit photos online, and I have a lot more perspective on human behavior now – not to mention, a lot more knowledge about the shame and secrecy that run rampant in fetish communities. It actually makes total sense to me that people who’ve had their deepest sexual desires shamed and stigmatized for many years would turn to unsavory tactics to get their needs met. I’m not saying it’s okay – it’s deeply, deeply not okay at all – but I do understand where the impulse comes from. It’s just not a good impulse, because it involves prioritizing your own pleasure and gratification over someone else’s personhood and safety – and that’s never acceptable, no matter how difficult it may have been to live with the fetish that you have.

 

These experiences have made me extra appreciative in adulthood of fetishists who are straightforward and respectful, e.g. those who politely request sexy feet pics from me with the clear knowledge that money will need to be exchanged in order for those photos to materialize. (If that’s something you’re interested in, by the way, you should click here.)

It’s not that paying for foot-related media is the only way to access it respectfully; it’s just that it’s the only way for an internet stranger to get foot-related media from me, specifically, and I know many others feel the same. That’s why websites like FunWithFeet.com are so cool – they connect people who want foot content with people who are willing to provide it, for an agreed-upon fee.

I always wished for something like this when I was in my late teens/early twenties, because it frustrated me to no end that random men would demand I post more pics of me in sandals, or whatever, and not even offer to buy me the sandals in question. I longed for platforms where consensual, ethical fetishism could be expressed and enjoyed by anyone who wanted to participate, and where no one would ever feel even remotely pressured into doing something they didn’t want to do. So it’s pretty awesome to me that FunWithFeet and other such foot-focused hubs exist.

 

Another aspect of all this is the way foot fetishism manifests in my personal life, as opposed to my professional life. I’ve had a few partners who were into feet to some degree, including my current partner. It was educational and weirdly cleansing to satisfy real-life partners’ desire for foot pics after having been lied to, used, grossed out and taken advantage of by so many foot fetishists as a teen.

A beloved partner politely requesting pictures of my feet felt completely different from a faceless internet stranger one-handedly and irately demanding I post foot pics for free. It still made me nervous at times, but in different ways: I was nervous about whether my feet were pretty enough to be fetishized, whether they needed a pedicure, whether they’d somehow be a turn-off instead of a turn-on.

Luckily, though, all my foot fetishist partners have been incredibly complimentary about my feet and have never made me feel the way those online strangers did – like my feet were my entire value and the rest of me didn’t matter. Even now, when we’re lying on the couch together watching a movie at night, my partner will sometimes sweetly ask if they can remove my socks and massage my feet while we watch – and though it still sometimes feels vulnerable, or embarrassing, or tickly, I usually say yes.

It can be healing to encounter something that used to make you feel scared, sad, used, and unimportant, and to find ways to feel exactly the opposite about it. I’m reminded, once again, of one of the central lessons I’ve learned about sex as a whole: consent makes all the difference.

 

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

Review: Magic Wand Mini

Kate Sloan

The Magic Wand franchise turns 54 this month. Yep! Can you believe it? In 1968, around this time, a vibrator was being launched that no one knew was going to change the world. In fact, it seems that no one knew it was even a vibrator; for decades after its launch, the toy’s makers, Hitachi, still insisted it was merely a “body massager.”

Brief primer on Hitachi Magic Wand history (which someone should really pay me to write a book about one of these days – don’t think I haven’t pitched it!): While officially billed as a non-sexual device, the Magic Wand’s popularity for pleasure first picked up steam in the late great Betty Dodson’s legendary masturbation workshops, so I’ve been told. The story goes (and I believe it to be true) that she would hand out wands to each workshop participant when the time came, and that many of them had their lives changed in an instant by their first taste of genital vibration. In the years since, the Magic Wand has gained nicknames like “the Cadillac of vibrators,” has showed up in countless porn videos (especially those featuring queer performers), and has become one of the most instantly recognizable vibrators in the world.

There was some drama around 2015 when Hitachi almost pulled the plug (so to speak) on producing the wand anymore. I don’t know why for certain, but I’ve been told by sources in the know that the company is relatively conservative and didn’t like having their name associated with a world-famous sex toy. An American sex toy distributor called Vibratex, then best known for their Rabbit Habit vibrator which was featured in a memorable episode of Sex & the City, stepped in and offered to take over marketing and distribution of the wand. They also overhauled the mechanics, making the toy safer (it had previously been known to overheat or even burst into flames) and adding a rechargeable version to the lineup but otherwise leaving it as close to the original as possible. As far as I’m aware, still to this day, the wand is physically produced by Hitachi but officially it is a Vibratex product.

(If you’re wondering why I know all this, it’s because in my last year of journalism school, they let me spend a semester writing a feature story on anything I wanted, and I wrote it on the Magic Wand. In the process, I interviewed, among other people, Vibratex’s VP and several people who had owned multiple wands, having immediately bought a new one when their old one died. Some interviewees even allowed me to sit in on real-life sex or masturbation sessions where they used their wands; I sat in the corner fully clothed with a notebook and pen, rapt. Truly don’t know why my professors let me do this but hey, it led me here.)

Anyway, I bring this up because there’s a new member of the Magic Wand family: the Magic Wand Mini. And it’s fucking ADORABLE.

Before we get into pros and cons, let’s briefly go over the basic differences between the Mini and the other versions, so we know what we’re talking about here.

  • The Magic Wand Mini is rechargeable, like the Magic Wand Rechargeable. It does not plug into the wall like the Magic Wand Original or Magic Wand Plus (except when it’s charging, obviously).
  • The original wand is around 12″ long; the Mini is only 9.6″ long.
  • Of course, it’s also lighter – 9.7 oz, which is less than half of what the other wands weigh.
  • The Magic Wand Mini’s head is made of silicone, like that of the Magic Wand Rechargeable and Magic Wand Plus – as opposed to being made of porous vinyl (which is a health hazard and also just gross), like that of the Magic Wand Original.
  • The Mini uses a different charger than the Magic Wand Rechargeable.
  • The Mini does not have vibration patterns, as the Magic Wand Rechargeable does – it only has steady speeds.
  • The Mini has 3 different vibration speeds, as opposed to the Original which has 2, and the Rechargeable and Plus, which both have 4.
  • Unlike the Rechargeable, the Mini cannot be used while it’s charging – so if your wand dies mid-session, you’re out of luck. It has battery life indicators though.

Okay, now let’s talk about what I actually think of this vibrator, shall we?

 

Things I like about this vibrator

  • First of all, I have to commend Vibratex for keeping the exact same aesthetic and basic proportions as the original wand, just in miniaturized form. I truly cannot overstate how cute this toy is. It’s like if someone made a Magic Wand for a doll. (Uhhh, that actually sounds like a very kinky dollification scene I need to do, like, yesterday.) It might not have quite the same appeal if you’ve never seen an original Magic Wand in person, but every sex toy nerd to whom I’ve showed this toy has shouted “IT’S SO CUUUUUTE!!” because it really fucking is.
  • The first speed of this toy rules. Vibratex should be very proud of this speed; as far as vibration speeds go, it is primo. It’s got a lot of rumble to it, and is strong enough to get me off easily on an average day, provided I use it in ways that work for me (more on that below). There are very few vibrators that can comfortably make me come on their lowest speed; one of the only other ones is the Magic Wand Rechargeable. So, at least on this one speed, Vibratex has succeeded in evoking a full-size wand experience in a smaller package. The rumbliness is such that I can definitely feel it in my internal clit, whether I’m holding it on the external part or even just my outer labia. This leads to orgasms every bit as intense – and almost as reliable and easy to achieve – as those I expect from other Magic Wands. I should note here, though, that I’m not a person who commonly uses wildly strong vibrators on high settings to get off. I think diehard fans of true power would be vastly disappointed by this toy (more on that in the “things I dislike” section).
  • One of my fundamental problems with full-size Magic Wands is that they cause some temporary numbness if I leave them in one place for a while. I prefer to move them around my vulva, staying in one spot for a minute or two and then packing up and moving on like a circus runaway. Granted, this is true of most vibrators, but it becomes more obvious with big wands because they’re so heavy that moving them around becomes a chore. But the Magic Wand Mini is much more nimble, and it makes a noticeable difference: I can move it around my inner and outer labia, come at my clit from various different angles, use it to stimulate my vaginal opening or perineum, etc. and my arm doesn’t get tired. As a person with chronic pain and strength issues in my hands/arms, I really appreciate that the wand is less than half the weight of the original.
  • When I use a regular-size Magic Wand, I usually tilt it so that only the corner/edge of the head is against my bits. This is because I like more pinpointed clit stimulation than the full width of the head can offer. The Magic Wand Mini is sufficiently small that I don’t really have to do this, and can target specific areas of my vulva as needed.
  • The smaller form factor would also make this toy better for using during PIV, I suspect. (Tragically, I cannot find out at the moment because my partner is 500 miles away from me.) I do notice that the vibrations are slightly dampened when pressure is applied to the head of the toy – which, incidentally, may also be an issue for people who like to push vibrators very firmly against their body – but it’s not so much as to cause problems for me. I’d still be likelier to use this in rear-entry positions, though, because wands – however petite and adorable – are just not well-suited for missionary.
  • Speaking of my partner being 500 miles away from me – I do a fair amount of travel (or did, when there wasn’t a pandemic happening), so I appreciate a wand I can comfortably fit in a purse or small suitcase. I think this would be a terrific vibe for hotel sex.
  • The buttons are super intuitive. There’s a power button and “plus” and “minus” buttons, which all do what you’d expect them to do. They make a satisfying click when pressed, but require just enough force to do so that I never press one accidentally. Kudos, Vibratex.
  • There’s some flexibility in the neck, similar to the amount offered by the Rechargeable. I’d still be worried I’d break it if I bent it too far, but it flexes enough to be comfortable when you’re applying pressure. This isn’t super important to me because I don’t apply much pressure when I use vibrators, but I know a lot of people feel strongly about this.

Things I don’t like about this vibrator

  • It has to be said: the vibrations are not as powerful or as rumbly as you may be used to if you’re a Magic Wand fan. The first setting is excellent, but the other two are pretty disappointingly buzzy – so, even though they supposedly have the same RPM (revolutions per minute) as the original wand, they just don’t feel as impactful and can cause temporary numbness. I think this probably has a lot to do with the smaller size of the toy, not just the motor.
  • Like all the Magic Wands, it’s kind of loud. It’s certainly quieter than the high settings of any other Magic Wand, but it has a shrillness to its tone that makes the noise seem louder somehow, even if, decibels-wise, it’s not. I don’t like using this vibe late at night, for example, lest it disturb my roommate… through a wall. (I have anxiety and some past trauma around being punished for being disruptively noisy, though, so take this with a big ol’ grain of salt.)
  • This wand won’t work with most classic Magic Wand accessories/attachments, because of its smaller size. Some companies do make attachments for smaller wands, though. Those made for the Le Wand Petite or the Mystic Wand, for example, should fit the Magic Wand Mini, albeit maybe slightly tightly or loosely.
  • I miss being able to use the toy while it’s charging, like you can with the Magic Wand Rechargeable.

 

Final thoughts

I’ve tried a bunch of smaller wands – including the buzzy-AF Le Wand Petite and the gorgeous Bodywand Midnight – and the Magic Wand Mini certainly ranks as one of the best. Vibratex and Hitachi clearly both care about vibration quality and have tried to make a smaller toy that still does the Magic Wand name proud, by prioritizing motor quality and strength above any extraneous bells and whistles.

It just seems that the smaller size and lighter weight of the Mini make its vibrations feel too buzzy on the higher end of the speed spectrum. I might use one of those two higher speeds as a “finisher” – there are times when it takes a dash of buzz to push me over the edge – but the first speed is really the only one that satisfies me in the way that Magic Wands usually do. It’s a damn good speed, but it wouldn’t be strong enough for true power aficionados, who’d be better off sticking with full-size wands.

I would pick up the Magic Wand Mini instead of a larger wand if I was having a pain flare-up or just feeling lazy, because it’s much easier to maneuver around my vulva. I’d also reach for it if I wanted a wand to use during penetrative sex. I would not, however, use it if I was craving a lot of power or a lot of rumble – the Magic Wand Rechargeable is still king for that. But, I mean, look at this cute little wand. It’s doing its best. And I think its best is pretty decent.

 

Thanks to LuxuryVibrators.ca for sending me this product to review! This post was sponsored, meaning I was paid to write a fair and honest review of this product. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.