I?m embarrassed by how happy it makes me Like a sensible pair of white sneakers lessening the appeal of a stiletto heel, my toilet seat-and-lid with soft hinges has ruined normal?and often more beautiful?toilet seats for me.
(For brevity?s sake, I will only refer to it as a ?toilet seat? here, even though I'm technically talking about a toilet-seat-and-lid combination.)
I will never, ever consider purchasing any other type of toilet seat. My 13-year-old self would want a clear plastic toilet seat with glitter and figurines mixed into it, or a wooden one with a realistic painting of a red rose on it. But that will never happen, because toilet seats with soft hinges have set the bar too high.
A toilet seat with a soft hinge?I have the slow-close molded-wood toilet seat by Mayfair?means that when you put the seat (or lid) down, there?s no slamming sound. You give the seat (or lid) a little push when you want it to close and it takes care of the rest. Gliding, it slows down as it approaches the bowl. By the time the surfaces meet, the seat (or lid) is going so slowly that it makes zero noise. The whole process lasts about 10 seconds. And it is glorious. My foray into purchasing a highly specific toilet seat started with a need to replace the tattered one that came with the bathroom when my husband and I signed the lease for our apartment. At first, it was a no-frills toilet seat, but after years of daily use?it is the only toilet in the apartment?it was really looking it...