Megan O’Neill is new to goop—and the initiation process involves a pretty fantastic learning curve. Here, her adventures in onboarding, goop-style:
I’m talking to my mom excitedly about something when I notice she’s not listening.
“Are you listening?” I ask.
“No.” she says. “I’m looking at your teeth wondering why they don’t look white. It’s probably those coconut-milk lattes you’re always exclaiming about, yellowing things up.”
“My teeth are yellow?”
“Tarnished is a better word.”
My mom is a woman who will tell you the truth—and historically, her truth is true, not delusional, not ridiculous. She’ll tell you the truth about your weight, your wedding dress, the bags under your eyes, your published articles—even your tarnished teeth.
If I have tarnished teeth, I wonder, do I also have bad breath? What about my gums?
I work at goop—where our water-cooler talk spans topics from the best pelvic floor exercises to sustainable condoms to how to seriously clean your teeth. If anyone has the answers, it’s my new officemates. Some goop staffers, it turns out, swear by oil pulling (to me, it’s just a game of trying not to gag), some bring a toothbrush to work so they can brush immediately after their spaced-out cups of coffee (never going to happen), but there are four things everybody seems to agree on. None sound gag-inducing or too impossible—and of course they’re clean and nontoxic—so I order them all.
What strikes me first: They’re all gorgeous. I had been brushing my teeth without zeal for years—drab-looking toothpaste tubes will do that to you. But with this bathroom-sink overhaul, pampering my mouth is now positively spa-like, akin to taking a shower or smoothing on luscious skincare.
For starters, the difference between a mouthrinse and a mouthwash is that mouthrinse sounds—and looks—beyond glamorous. Dr. Christopher Perez is the dentist behind Olas Mouthrinse, whose alcohol-free blend of sea salt, algae, and echinacea tastes more like a bracing digestif than something you typically gargle with. If the bottle looks like a whiskey flask, that’s because it was inspired by one—and swigging from it at your sink does sort of feel cool and illicit.
Olas Mouthrinse goop, $24
This has to be the best looking mouthwash ever—and, most importantly, it works: Mineral-rich sea salt substitutes for alcohol, while a healing blend of seaweed and essential oils like tea tree, frankincense, and echinacea refreshes the breath. “Olas” means wave in Spanish—appropriate, because you definitely taste a hint of the ocean in this rinse.
There’s something so sleek about the monochrome-black Charcoal Toothbrush from Morihata and the charcoal-filled bristles are soft but intensely thorough. I’m not swearing off my electric toothbrush, but this one is so light—and so much easier for a short weekend or work trip.
The clean lines and perfect seafoam-green tube of Davids toothpaste makes me happy just glancing at it. Brushing with it is like giving your mouth an exorcism.
I used to floss practically never because I loathed the sharp feeling of the string slicing into my gums. Cocofloss is weirdly plush (I know, I didn’t think floss could feel plush, but I swear to you this does), never lacerating. Just satisfying and faintly coconut flavored. Every dentist on the planet says the same thing about flossing: Do it.
Try clean, refreshing Cocofloss once, truly, and you’ll be forever ruined for regular floss. Never mind its non-toxicity and social impact, it’s simply better than anything we’ve tried–ever. Created by two Bay Area sisters, one a dentist, the other an artist, Cocofloss is thick, yet glides smoothly between your teeth, is strong but flexible, and just feels—fantastic, transforming a chore into a pleasure. The floss has the faintest hint of the coconut oil its infused with, and the mint scent is especially fresh and invigorating.
The next time I see my mom is about three weeks later. I’m telling her some story when I notice that she’s following along this time and not peering into my mouth. I interrupt myself to ask her if my teeth look different.
“They don’t look tarnished,” she says.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because teeth are supposed to look like yours look right now. What are you doing differently?”
I start by telling her about the best-looking mouthrinse ever.