The hardest part of my job as a sex editor was telling people, “I’m a sex editor.” Whenever I was asked, “So what do you do?” I’d enunciate each word with the pageantry of Yolanda Vega’s weekly Lotto drawing. The word sex tends to elicit a strong reaction from people, regardless of what it’s said in conjunction with. Some people scrunched up their faces in confusion or clutched at their invisible pearls. Others asked a series of deeply inappropriate follow-up questions. Dates reacted exclusively with excitement or terror. Neither was necessary.
I wrote articles — fully clothed — about relationships, sex, and dating. I would conduct anthropological interviews with the likes of psychologist John Gray and anthropologist Helen Fisher, also fully clothed. I blogged about the latest research on how to make a marriage last and created quizzes to determine whether your boyfriend was The One. And yes, in between all that, I’d open packages upon packages of NSFW product samples.
Picture it: 2007. Fergie, Nelly Furtado, and Rihanna dominated the radio. Square-tipped acrylics and low-rise jeans were “fashion,” and a friend of Paris Hilton’s named Kim Kardashian had just landed a network cable deal. The aughts were not a time of understatements, and even the sex toys were as campy and dramatic as an episode of Laguna Beach. I worked at one of the very first women’s media websites, and while the fitness editor opened boxes from Nike and the beauty editor opened boxes from NARS, my packages were stamped with names like Doc Johnson, Passion Parties, and Babeland. My desk was a sight to be seen.
There was a Rabbit vibrator (popular with Sex and the City stans), a Swiss Army–style mini flashlight vibrator (perfect for the horny doomsday prepper), and a vibrating “lipstick” tube (for the ultimate discretion). Most products had the word novelty printed on the package, which was fitting — everything felt in on the joke and designed to be deliberately wacky. The vast majority of toys were presented with humor and levity because many people (like the ones who blushed when I told them my job title) were still a bit apprehensive about taking sex seriously. It was easier to sell a vibrator as something zany and funny that you were picking up for a bachelorette party gag gift and certainly, definitely not bringing home for yourself. Plus, no one was sending editors anything boring and blatantly phallic to write about — the products brands pitched us were meant to be newsworthy, so they mirrored the spirit of the zeitgeist. Everything was neon, fluorescent, sparkly, or had some type of schtick. Remember, this was a time when a platinum-haired actress in a sparkly “going out” top driving around Hollywood in a hot pink Escalade was seen as aspirational. Everything was about getting noticed and making a splash in the moment. Staying power to last into the next decade was of no concern.
Then one day I opened a box to find something completely antithetical to everything else: A foot-long, nearly two-pound white power tool with a six-foot plug-in cord. It had no hot pink color, no kitschy concept, just a giant, heavy handle and a rubberized, tennis ball–size head. It was at once bizarre and familiar, sexual and platonic, and resembled a relic from a bygone era —something you’d find in the back of your friend’s mom’s bathroom cabinet in the ’80s. It was loud, heavy, ridiculous, almost Paleolithic … and it was — no, is — apparently the most popular vibrator of all time.
The Magic Wand is your mother’s vibrator. It looks “old” because it has been around since the ’60s, when it was first sold by Japanese consumer electronics brand Hitachi. From day one, it was labeled ambiguously as a “massager,” and Hitachi never commented on whether it was intended for sore muscles, masturbation, or both. The Wand just happened to be equally adept at either purpose, and word of mouth spread like wildfire. No other massager had the strength of the Magic Wand, so it became the weapon of choice for any woman seeking to supersize her orgasm. “Many people — including sex educators — found that the combination of its size, power, and the shape of the head made the Magic Wand an incredible pleasure product,” says Ken Herskovitz, CEO of sex-toy manufacturer Vibratex, which now distributes the Magic Wand. “Famed sex educator Betty Dodson was one of the earliest and most outspoken proponents of the Magic Wand, and she taught countless patients how to achieve orgasm using one in the ’70s.”
Any woman who tried the Wand couldn’t help but tell a friend. Or three. It became a top-selling toy at a variety of retailers like Adam & Eve and Good Vibrations — and it stayed that way. “I worked for a multichain boutique retailer for 18 years, and for all 18 years the Magic Wand was our No. 1 best seller,” says Coyote Amrich. “I use it because my body requires deep, strong vibrations in order to achieve orgasm, and while it is possible with other vibrators, none are as reliable as my Magic Wand,” explains Zoe Ligon, owner of Spectrum Boutique and author of Carnal Knowledge: Sex Education You Didn’t Get in School.
The Magic Wand’s differentiator is its powerful motor that produces strong, “rumbly” vibrations instead of a “buzz” like most toys. And the oversize rubber head distributes the rumbly vibrations to as many clitoral nerve endings as possible at once. Those rumbles can be revved up to a speed of up to 6,300 rpm, so comparing it to your basic vibrator is like comparing the roar of a Ferrari to the “cha-cha-cha-rrrrrr” start-up sound of your dad’s old Acura. These two things are not the same.
The Wand’s ROI is clear: It works. Every time. For everyone. If you can’t have an orgasm with this tool, check your pulse.
By the time I received the Magic Wand, it had been an IYKYK legend for decades. That same year, its enduring popularity was put to the ultimate test: The advent of the iPhone created a cultural desire for everything to be smaller, sleeker, and sexier — even sex toys. Stockholm-based toy company LELO launched the disruptive LILY, a rechargeable vibrator that looked more like an earbud than a vibrator, ushering in a new generation of “high-tech” toys. But while portability, aesthetics, and quiet all have their advantages, when you’re alone behind closed doors, what matters more: Whether your vibrator is cute enough to display at Art Basel, or how efficiently and effectively it does the job? If you ask most Magic Wand users, they’ll answer the latter — and that’s why so many women continue to choose it. The brand still reports half a million sales every year.
“The Magic Wand surged in popularity during the early days of the pandemic with an influx of first-time buyers,” said Herskovitz. Its reputation as a “sure thing” sells itself and continues to appeal to users who prioritize the ease and strength of their orgasm over the visual appeal of other toys. To match its power and performance would require sacrificing style, which is how the Magic Wand keeps its competition in a headlock — you simply can’t replicate what it does in a smaller, sleeker package. For now, at least.
But that’s not to say the tool hasn’t evolved at all. When Vibratex bought the Magic Wand from Hitachi, it did make some changes. Minimal updates, like losing the cord and adding a rechargeable battery, modernized the Wand just enough without risking any loss in performance. There was no need to add any pomp and circumstance or to alter the design just because. The Magic Wand isn’t here to amuse other people — it’s here unapologetically to please you, and that has always been its thing. “The Magic Wand doesn’t look sexy; it doesn’t have to look sexy,” explains Carol Queen, Ph.D., the staff sexologist at retailer Good Vibrations.
So despite all of the innovation in the decades it has been around, the Magic Wand has never been unseated as the mother of all vibrators. To this day, if you could peek inside the bedside table of every woman in America, you would be surprised by how many Magic Wands you’d find — millions of women own one. In 2016, Time magazine named it one of the top ten Most Influential Gadgets of All Time. Right up there with the iPhone and Nintendo.
Younger, sleeker models will always come around, but the Magic Wand is iconic, baby. Cher. And you just don’t mess with an icon.
