Tag Archives: Lifestyle

This Surgical-Steel Toothbrush Was Never Meant to Be Thrown Away

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I own a lot of things I’ll probably never actually wear out. A leather bag that’s outlasted three apartments. A watch that was my grandfather’s. A cast iron pan that will likely be handed down long after I’m gone. And then I have a bathroom drawer full of plastic toothbrushes, each one used for a few months and tossed, none of them meant to last, none of them meant to matter.

That contrast is what caught my attention when I came across the Berninox 316, a toothbrush designed by Swiss product designer Julien Bernard that flips the entire logic of oral care on its head. Instead of a disposable object you replace every few months, you get a handle made from 316L surgical stainless steel, the same alloy used in medical instruments, paired with a small replaceable head made from recycled ocean-bound plastic. When the bristles wear down, you don’t throw away the whole thing. You just click off the head and snap on a new one.It sounds almost too simple, which might be exactly why it works.

Designer: Julien Bernard for Berninox

What strikes me most about this design isn’t the material, though stainless steel is obviously the headline. It’s the clip system holding the head in place. Berninox has a patent pending on it, and once you understand why, it makes sense. Anyone who has used a razor with interchangeable blades knows the annoyance of a head that wiggles or pops off at the worst moment. Getting that mechanism right, so it feels secure during brushing but still releases easily when you want to swap it, is the unglamorous engineering work that actually makes a product usable long term. Good design is rarely about the flashy part. It’s about the hinge nobody notices until it fails.

I also appreciate that this wasn’t dreamed up purely as a sustainability gesture. The brand worked with dental professionals during development, which matters more than it might seem at first glance. Plenty of eco-conscious products lead with their environmental story and treat function as an afterthought. Berninox seems to have built the case for durability and the case for actually brushing your teeth well at the same time, rather than picking one.

There’s also something quietly satisfying about the ocean plastic detail. The heads are made through a partnership with a Swiss initiative that collects ocean-bound plastic from Southeast Asia before it ever reaches the water. It’s a small volume of material in the scheme of global plastic pollution, sure, but I don’t think that’s really the point. It’s a demonstration that a mundane, overlooked object like a toothbrush can carry a slightly bigger story if someone bothers to design it that way.

I’ll admit I’m a sucker for objects that feel like they were made by someone who actually cared about the details, not just the marketing copy. A stainless steel handle that can go into the dishwasher or be steam sterilized isn’t just a hygiene feature, it’s a signal that the people behind it were thinking about how the object behaves in real life, not just how it photographs on a shelf.

Is a forty-dollar toothbrush going to be for everyone? Probably not. Plenty of people will look at their nine-pack of drugstore toothbrushes and see no reason to change. And that’s fair. But I think there’s a growing appetite, especially among people who already collect watches, pens, or well-made kitchen tools, for everyday objects that don’t pretend to be disposable. We’ve spent decades normalizing things designed to be thrown away, and I think we’re slowly correcting course, one small object at a time.

What I like most about the Berninox 316 is that it doesn’t ask you to change your habits. You still brush your teeth the same way you always have. It just quietly changes what happens to the object in your hand once the bristles wear out. Sometimes the most meaningful design shifts aren’t the loud ones. They’re the small, practical ones that make you rethink something you never thought twice about, sitting right there in your bathroom cup.

The post This Surgical-Steel Toothbrush Was Never Meant to Be Thrown Away first appeared on Yanko Design.

MB&F’s Alien-Inspired Desk Clock Ships as 222 Loose Parts You Assemble Yourself Over 10 Hours

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There is a term in behavioral economics called the IKEA effect, which says we value things more when we build them ourselves. It explains why you defend that wobbly BILLY bookcase like it’s family. MB&F and French clockmaker Maison Alcée have taken that idea, put it in a suit, and charged CHF 12,000 for it. Their new desk clock arrives at your door as 222 loose components in a wooden box, along with a set of watchmaking tools and a 250-page book. You are the assembly line, and the clock does not tell time until you make it.

It’s called the Nostromo, and it looks like a chrome beetle crouching on your desk. Maximilian Maertens, MB&F’s creative designer and Max Büsser’s anointed successor, designed it to celebrate 15 years of the M.A.D.Gallery. Maison Alcée manufactures the parts in the French and Swiss Jura, then hands the fun part to you. Roughly ten hours of tweezer work stand between the box and a running mechanical clock with a 14-day power reserve and a switchable hour chime. Only the regulating organ arrives pre-built, because some things are best left to people who do this for a living. Fifty pieces exist.

Designer: Maximilian Maertens for MB&F, crafted by Maison Alcée

The body is a symmetrical steel ovoid, two brushed arcs meeting top and bottom, wrapped around brass wheels and a saturated peacock blue dial ring floating dead center. That silhouette reads as carapace rather than xenomorph, closer to a scarab than anything H.R. Giger ever airbrushed. Every ounce of creature in this object lives in the three tapered legs below, which sweep outward in compound curves and end in points. Maertens had to leave the movement architecture assemblable by amateurs, so the sculpture went where the freedom was.

That movement comes from the Persée, Maison Alcée’s first clock, launched in 2022 and built on wristwatch architecture scaled up to desk size. Maertens turned the whole thing on its side, angled the display upward for easier reading, and split the Persée’s continuous dial ring into segments so the gear train shows through the gaps. The finished clock rotates on its feet, which sounds like a gimmick until you remember three-point support never rocks on an uneven desk. Black hands replace the originals for contrast against all that brass. The changes are small in engineering terms and enormous in posture.

Slotted screws sit visible across every plate, the steel is brushed instead of polished, and the brass wheels carry plain spokes with no anglage anywhere. That reads as a deliberate call rather than a cost saving, because every one of those surfaces will be handled by someone in cotton gloves who has never held tweezers. Maison Alcée even had its screwdriver blades made in a copper-beryllium alloy, softening them specifically to reduce the risk of scratching your own clock. The kit includes seventeen tools, several adapted for beginners. The pedagogy runs all the way down to the hardware.

Ridley Scott borrowed the name Nostromo from a Joseph Conrad novel, and Ron Cobb designed the ship as a grimy commercial tugboat crewed by people arguing about bonuses. Giger got the monster and the derelict. Most of us have merged the two in memory, which is why the word now sounds biomechanical. Maertens, a self-declared Giger obsessive, has effectively put Cobb’s name on a Giger-adjacent body, and I doubt anyone at MB&F loses sleep over it. The brand has been mining outer space since HM1 in 2007.

CHF 12,000 ($14,840 USD) excluding VAT, sold through the M.A.D.Galleries in Geneva and Dubai and MB&F LABs worldwide, with deliveries landing October to November. A base Persée runs closer to EUR 5,500 ($6,379 USD), so the premium buys the Maertens design and the 50-piece cap rather than more mechanism. Here’s the catch, though. A company whose entire philosophy is teaching horology through your own hands has capped this particular lesson at fifty units for fifty eager students. The clock is wonderful. The classroom is very small.

The post MB&F’s Alien-Inspired Desk Clock Ships as 222 Loose Parts You Assemble Yourself Over 10 Hours first appeared on Yanko Design.

Your Child’s First Lambo Could Be This $3,995 Yellow Stroller – And It’s Rarer Than Most Supercars

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Your kid will own a Lamborghini roughly forty years before you do, and it will cost you $3,995 to make that happen. Silver Cross and Automobili Lamborghini just launched the Reef AL Giallo, a limited-run stroller finished in the yellow that made the Miura famous. Only 500 exist worldwide. Each one carries a numbered plaque in the footplate, the way limited-run supercars carry chassis numbers. It launched today, August 27, and it closes out a partnership that started with an orange version back in 2025.

Silver Cross has been building prams in Yorkshire since 1877, which makes it eleven years older than the internal combustion car business it just partnered with. The company was known for decades as the Rolls-Royce of prams, supplying George VI and the Queen Mother. Lamborghini was founded in 1963 by a tractor manufacturer with a grudge. Putting those two lineages on the same chassis should feel absurd. The odd thing is how carefully it has been done, right down to a debossed Y-pattern lifted from Lamborghini’s actual car interiors.

Designers: Silver Cross, Automobili Lamborghini

The carrycot is a high-gloss polycarbonate shell with integrated airflow, angled to echo the folded bonnet line of a supercar, and lined inside with automotive-grade suede. The pushchair seat pairs that suede with bamboo fibre and a multi-peak faceted hood. A genuine leather bumper bar wraps the front with embossed Lamborghini badging. The handlebar casting is finished by hand, and the brake pedal uses a step-on, step-off action designed not to scuff your shoes, which is the single most useful idea in the whole package. Even the storage basket gets origami-style folding so it holds its shape against the frame’s angles.

The hexagon and the Y have been Lamborghini’s structural grammar since Marcello Gandini started folding cars into wedges in the late sixties, and both show up in carbon weave, air intakes and seat stitching across the modern range. Silver Cross debossed the pattern rather than printing it. The colour strategy is similarly disciplined. Giallo (Italian for ‘yellow’) appears as piping, stitching, a harness liner and a wheel hub, while the body stays almost entirely black.

Now the maths. The Reef AL Giallo is built on the Reef 2, a Silver Cross stroller that normally sells between $999.99 and $1,299.99, so the $2,700 price bump accounts for the leather and suede, and that licensed logo. It also weighs 13.6kg, or about 30 lbs, which is double what a lot of parents lift into a car boot. A brand built on the pursuit of lightness has produced its heaviest possible interpretation of a pram. Folded, it measures L71 x W61 x H30.5cm, so boot space matters. Set against the Bentley Trike or Lamborghini’s licensed e-scooters, though, this is a far more serious object.

Silver Cross has announced this as the final edition, which is a scarcity mechanic as much as an editorial decision, and the resale market will treat it accordingly. Pair it with the orange Arancio we covered last year, and you have a matched set that some collector will absolutely chase. What sticks with me is the suspension. William Wilson’s 1877 breakthrough was spring suspension on a pram, and here those springs sit exposed on the chassis, sold as performance engineering. A 149-year-old British invention, wearing an Italian costume, and still doing its original job.

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The Book With 24 Holes and Almost No Words

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Pick up Sebastian Bergne’s latest publication and you’ll immediately notice what’s not there. No lengthy introduction. No glossy product photography. No dense paragraphs of design theory. Just a small, grey booklet with a punched slot on the cover and 24 pages of quiet, deliberate emptiness inside. It sounds like very little, and that’s exactly the point.

Everyday Holes is Bergne’s first self-published booklet, and it arrives with the kind of confidence that only comes from more than 30 years of experience. An award-winning product and furniture designer, Bergne is one of Britain’s most respected practitioners in the field, the kind of designer who has spent decades thinking carefully about how objects are made and why they look the way they do. A recurring subject in that body of work, it turns out, has been holes. Not as an afterthought, but as a deliberate design element: functional, beautiful, and sometimes quietly meaningful.

Designer: Sebastian Bergne

The book’s format is brilliantly simple. Each right-hand page shows a life-size illustration of a hole or a cluster of holes, with no label, no caption, no hint of any kind. Your job is to figure out where it comes from. The answer is printed on the reverse. That’s the whole game, and it works far better than it has any right to. The moment of recognition, when a familiar shape suddenly clicks into place, is genuinely satisfying. Two small rectangular slots become a plug socket. A dense cluster of dots resolves into a shower head or a speaker grille. Stripped of all their surrounding context, these shapes become strange and new again, like seeing a word repeated until it loses its meaning.

Bergne gives you 24 of these moments, and the small-format, minimal production keeps the focus entirely on the holes themselves. No distractions. No unnecessary colour or decoration. The cover’s punched hang-tag slot doubles as both a functional detail and a dry design joke, which tells you a lot about where Bergne’s head is at. He’s clearly enjoying himself here, and that enjoyment is contagious. It’s rare for a design object to be both rigorous and fun at the same time, and this one manages it easily.

But underneath the playfulness, the book is making a serious point. Bergne’s introductory text argues that holes are not simply features cut into objects. Over time, they become the objects. The eye of a needle is not just a slot for thread. It is what a needle fundamentally is. The two holes in a button are what make it a button at all. Remove the surrounding material and keep only the void, and recognition still holds. That is a remarkable observation, and it quietly reframes the way you look at almost everything once it lands.

It also opens up a more provocative idea: if the absence of material carries as much meaning as the material itself, then perhaps good design is as much about what you leave out as what you put in. For a field that often equates quality with more, this feels like a genuinely welcome counterpoint. It’s a subtle argument for doing less, tucked inside what looks like a charming little quiz book.

As a physical object, Everyday Holes is exactly what it should be. Honest production, restrained design, no excess. It works as a gift for anyone who thinks seriously about how things are made. It works as a coffee table piece that actually starts conversations rather than just sitting there looking expensive. And it works as a solo read, the kind you finish in minutes but find yourself turning over in your head for days afterward.

The best design books don’t just document good design. They change how you see the world outside their pages. Everyday Holes manages that in under 24 pages and almost no words at all. Once you start noticing holes, really noticing them, the grid of a colander, the spacing of a grille, the deliberate placement of a buttonhole, you can’t quite stop. A small book about nothing that somehow changes how you see everything.

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This 32oz Bottle Carbonates Your Water in 3 Seconds, Wherever You Are

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Most people who drink sparkling water have settled into one of two habits. They either haul home cans and bottles from the grocery store every week, or they own a countertop soda maker that never leaves the kitchen. The Roam SodaTop is designed for everyone caught between those options: a 32oz insulated bottle that carbonates still water on demand, wherever you happen to be.

The home soda maker does what it promises, but it’s also a fairly large appliance with a permanent spot on the counter and plastic bottles that aren’t built to travel. Your sparkling water stays fresh for however long it sits in the fridge. Step outside, and you’re back to buying packaged drinks. It’s a frustratingly common situation for something meant to be a simple habit.

Designer: Mohini Boparai

Click Here to Buy Now: $119 $199 ($80 off). Hurry, only 46/1150 left! Raised over $359,000.

That’s the gap the SodaTop fills. The system pairs a stainless-steel bottle with a compact carbonation mechanism powered by small CO2 canisters. The bottle was engineered to handle carbonation pressure, with specially threaded fittings that most regular water bottles simply aren’t built for. Roam describes it as the world’s first insulated bottle that instantly carbonates water, and looking at the category, it’s hard to argue with that framing.

Using it takes just a few steps: fill the bottle to the marked interior line, drop in the CO2 canister, and twist the cap into place. The water is sparkling in about three seconds, and a pressure-release mechanism keeps the carbonation locked inside until you’re ready to drink. There’s no pumping, no separate carafe, and the whole thing takes less time than opening a can.

What makes that genuinely useful is the size. The SodaTop is roughly one-fifth the footprint of a standard countertop unit, compact enough to slip into a bag or a kitchen drawer without drama. Whether it’s on a work desk, a hotel table, or brought along on a day out, fresh sparkling water goes wherever the bottle goes, which is something no countertop soda maker can claim.

The bottle itself does more than hold the mechanism in place. Triple-wall construction keeps drinks cold for up to 24 hours and ice for up to 48 hours, well ahead of the plastic bottles that come standard with most home soda systems. That thermal advantage also matters for carbonation, since cooler water retains CO2 more efficiently and keeps the fizz from fading before the bottle is empty.

On the inside, Roam uses what it calls MirrorTech, a mirror-polished steel surface that the brand says keeps carbonation crisp for longer, resists odor buildup between uses, and discourages flavor transfer. The wide-mouth opening makes adding ice and pouring easy, while a visible fill line inside takes the guesswork out of how much water to add for consistent carbonation every time.

The CO2 canisters are made from recycled steel and are fully recyclable, so when they’re empty, they go straight into the recycling bin with no return shipping involved. Roam positions the ongoing cost at as little as $0.55 per canister for subscribers, framing that as roughly half the cost of buying pre-packaged sparkling water. Cutting out single-use cans and bottles also noticeably reduces household waste.

Roam also offers Natural Flavor Essence Drops designed to pair with the SodaTop, available in eight varieties: Ginger Root, White Peach, Sicilian Lemon, Yuzu Lime, Blood Orange, Strawberry, Grapefruit, and Mango. All are zero calorie, zero sugar, and plant-based. They’re also certified keto, paleo, vegan, gluten-free, kosher, and non-GMO, so they turn sparkling water into a flavored drink without any of the sugar baggage.

The SodaTop comes in three finishes: Pebble, Sage, and Charcoal, each with a contrasting accent at the base that gives it a quietly distinctive look. The silhouette reads more like premium drinkware than a gadget, which is probably the whole point. It’s the kind of object that fits on a desk, gets tossed in a bag, and doesn’t look out of place in either setting.

Click Here to Buy Now: $119 $199 ($80 off). Hurry, only 46/1150 left! Raised over $359,000.

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Bixdo Glossonic Brush Air (W30) Review: The Toothbrush That Replaces Your Whitening Strips

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PROS:


  • Striking design with ambient light effect when docked

  • 120-day battery life greatly simplifies portability

  • Effective whitening process combined with brushing

CONS:


  • Handle might be too large for some hands

  • Very limited color options

RATINGS:

AESTHETICS
ERGONOMICS
PERFORMANCE
SUSTAINABILITY / REPAIRABILITY
VALUE FOR MONEY

EDITOR'S QUOTE:

By making the whitening happen in the background, the Bixdo Glossonic Brush Air (W30) electric toothbrush doesn't overhaul a bathroom routine so much as quietly upgrade it.
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At-home teeth whitening has never been more accessible, yet most people can’t stick with it. Whitening strips take 30 to 45 minutes and often cause sensitivity. Whitening toothpastes rely on mild abrasives that can wear down enamel over time. Professional treatments work well, but they’re expensive and require appointments that take time out of your schedule. The category has a compliance problem that no stronger formula or new packaging seems to fix.

The Bixdo Glossonic Brush Air (W30) takes an entirely different approach. Rather than adding another product to the routine, it builds whitening into the process of brushing, something most people already do twice a day. Paired with a Bixdo’s whitening toothpaste and blue light technology, it turns a daily habit into a gradual brightening system that doesn’t ask much of the person using it.

Designer: Bixdo

Click Here to Buy Now: $139.99.

Aesthetics

Most electric toothbrushes lean into a clinical aesthetic. The Bixdo W30 departs from that with a sleek, lacquered silhouette in deep navy blue fading into a frosted white at the base, a gradient that’s genuinely eye-catching for a toothbrush. That finish gives it a quality closer to personal-care hardware than a dental appliance, and it’s the kind of object you’d actually want on a vanity rather than stashed under the sink.

The Bixdo W30 charges via a USB-C port built into the base of the handle, which is a small but telling design choice. It keeps the whole package clean and self-contained, with no proprietary dock or cradle to misplace. For a bathroom counter that’s already busy, that kind of restraint matters. It’s the kind of detail that doesn’t announce itself but would be noticeably annoying if it were handled differently.

The brush head is where the design gets interesting. The filaments are made from translucent material specifically to channel blue light from inside the handle outward to the tooth surface, supporting the Bixdo whitening system directly at the point of contact. The effect is genuinely dramatic: when active, the entire head blazes with a vivid blue glow, making the whitening feel tangible rather than abstract.

Ergonomics

Picking up the Bixdo Glossonic Brush Air (W30), the weight feels deliberate, and the glossy finish stays comfortable without feeling slippery. A single oval button sits below a small embedded display on the handle face, keeping the interface minimal and uncluttered. The display shows mode icons and labels clearly at a glance. The form is easy to grip, whether the brush is used straight on or at an angle for back teeth.

A single press of the button gets the brushing started, and the display confirms the active mode at a glance. The brush sends a brief vibration every 30 seconds as a prompt to shift to the next brushing zone, a useful nudge that keeps the routine thorough rather than habitual. When the session ends, the screen shows a brushing result to indicate how the session went.

Performance

The cleaning side of the Bixdo W30 isn’t an afterthought. Its sonic brushing action drives a thorough clean across the tooth surface and into the spaces between teeth, putting it on level ground with mainstream premium electric toothbrushes in terms of mechanical cleaning power. Teeth feel noticeably cleaner and smoother after each session, and it performs that way consistently, before the whitening layer even factors in.

The whitening mechanism is built around the Bixdo whitening system, where the blue light works together with the PAP-based whitening toothpaste and light-guiding brush head to address everyday surface stains. Many devices use blue light, but how those elements are designed to work together determines whether it actually does anything useful. The Bixdo W30 is built around that coordination rather than around any single feature.

The system pairs with a PAP-based whitening toothpaste specifically designed for everyday whitening care. Unlike many whitening products that rely on hydrogen peroxide and are intended for occasional high-intensity use, the PAP-based formula fits naturally into a twice-daily brushing routine. It’s the kind of formulation that makes sense for something meant to be used consistently, day after day, rather than as an occasional treatment.

There are four brushing modes: DAILY, DIAMOND, and GENTLE, which all activate the blue light in three-minute sessions at varying intensities, and GUM CARE, a two-minute vibration-only option for users with sensitive teeth and gums. Results build gradually with consistent use, which suits the broader logic of a product designed to work within a daily routine rather than deliver a single dramatic result.

Battery life is another standout. The Bixdo W30 is rated for 120 days on a single charge, which means charging it roughly twice a year at most. For anyone who travels regularly, this essentially eliminates the charger from the packing list entirely. The brush is also IPX7 waterproof, so rinsing it off or using it in the shower isn’t a problem.

Sustainability

The 120-day battery life has an environmental dimension worth noting. Most electric toothbrushes get charged weekly or more often, adding up to dozens of charge cycles a year that slowly degrade the battery’s overall capacity. The W30’s extended battery means fewer cycles, less energy consumed over time, and a device that’s more likely to stay in good working condition longer before the battery becomes an issue.

The brush head is designed to be replaced at least every three months, in line with standard dental guidance, which gives the routine a clear and easy-to-follow maintenance rhythm. That’s a more sustainable ownership model than replacing the full device. The refill toothpaste and replacement-head model together mean the handle stays in service rather than becoming disposable hardware when something wears out.

Value

The Bixdo W30 sits at the premium end of the consumer toothbrush market. But its intended comparison isn’t other electric toothbrushes. It’s meant to replace a combination of products: a capable electric brush and a separate whitening system. Professional in-office treatments run anywhere from $350 to $1,200 per session, and most people need more than one session a year to maintain results.

Compared to whitening strips, the math becomes even more interesting. A pack of good-quality strips can run $40 to $60, lasts a couple of weeks, and needs to be repurchased on a regular cycle. The Glossonic Brush Air’s ongoing cost is the companion PAP toothpaste, a reasonable daily-use repurchase for something doing double duty as both toothpaste and whitening treatment. As a consolidated system, that recurring expense starts to look quite reasonable.

Most whitening products separate plaque removal and whitening into two different steps. The Bixdo W30 brings both together, with brushing handling the mechanical clean while the blue light, PAP-based toothpaste, and light-guiding brush head work as part of the Bixdo whitening system. The toothpaste refill is the only recurring cost once the brush is in hand, which is a straightforward trade-off for a product that effectively replaces two separate categories.

Verdict

After extended use, the Bixdo W30 comes across as a product that’s been thought through rather than simply assembled. The results are gradual, building up like good skincare, and no increased sensitivity was experienced throughout the testing period. Teeth look noticeably brighter after two to three weeks of consistent daily use, particularly along the edges where stain buildup from coffee tends to accumulate first.

For regular coffee or tea drinkers who’ve struggled to stay consistent with strips, the Bixdo Glossonic Brush Air (W30) is genuinely worth considering. It doesn’t overhaul a bathroom routine so much as quietly upgrade it, one session at a time. The whitening happens in the background while the brush does its cleaning job, which is a pretty elegant way to address a problem most people have quietly given up on.

Click Here to Buy Now: $139.99.

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The Alarm Clock Built for People Who Lose 20 Minutes to Phone Alarms

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There’s a specific failure mode that most bedside alarms share. You reach for your phone to set an alarm, and by the time you’re done, you’ve also checked your messages, scrolled through something you didn’t mean to read, and lost twenty minutes of wind-down time to a screen that was already too bright. The phone isn’t bad at being an alarm; it’s just not designed to stop there, and that distinction costs more than most people acknowledge.

The CinderClock was designed with exactly that failure mode in mind. It’s a multi-purpose standalone desktop clock built to handle the things a bedside table needs without handing those tasks back to a phone. The device runs entirely on itself: no app, no cloud connection, no subscription, and WiFi that stays off at boot unless deliberately switched on to push a firmware update. What it does, it does without outside assistance.

Designer: Aqnazar Arysbek

The feature set covers the practical range of what a desk clock might reasonably be asked to do. Alarm history holds ten entries, a countdown timer runs while you navigate elsewhere in the menus, and the stopwatch tracks four laps with centiseconds. The fast-changing stopwatch display can be hidden, because a rapidly updating number on a desk is a distraction rather than information. Two Pomodoro presets store work and rest periods from 1 to 999 minutes, each phase signaled by a distinct jingle. Local temperature and humidity are monitored continuously, and sunrise and sunset times are available for anyone whose schedule tracks natural light rather than a fixed shift.

The physical form follows the logic of something designed to live on a desk permanently. The face is raked at an angle chosen for legibility whether the clock sits low on a nightstand or higher on a shelf. Navigation uses four keys and a joystick, with one move from standby opening a quick menu for alarm, timer, and stopwatch. The 3D-printed enclosure integrates the speaker grille into the same shell. The processor sleeps between seconds to work toward a two-week battery target, though the actual runtime won’t be published until measured.

The repairability case is where the design earns a different kind of attention. The bill of materials, PCB design files, and enclosure models are all published at launch. The firmware is already on GitHub under a permissive Apache 2.0 license. Every module position is labeled on the back of the main board. The preference for common, well-documented components isn’t primarily about cost; it’s about sourcing availability, which is what keeps a device repairable years from now, when original sellers may no longer be around.

Most alarm clocks are priced to be replaced rather than fixed, and their design reflects that assumption. The CinderClock treats longevity as a design value rather than a bonus, and it makes that case consistently, from the open-source firmware down to the labeled circuit board that any careful owner can understand and service. It’s a more demanding thing to build, which is probably why it’s rare.

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This Face Massager Also Does Your Scalp and Neck Without Swapping Tools

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The gua sha routine, for all its appeal, has always come with a quiet inconvenience. A flat jade stone for the face. A ridged roller for the scalp. Something else entirely for the neck and shoulders. Most people who commit to the practice end up with a small arsenal of tools, each optimized for a single body area and all sitting in a bathroom drawer they have to rummage through before getting started. The RE2AL by GENIERR asks whether all of that needs to be separate in the first place.

The RE2AL is a dual-function gua sha built into a single compact object. One end carries a stainless steel roll-on ball for facial work; the other is a ceramic protrusion head shaped for the scalp, neck, and body. The two halves separate cleanly at the midpoint, with the upper cap housing and protecting the roll-on when it isn’t in use. What looks like one small, rounded form is actually two distinct massage tools sharing the same silhouette.

Designers: Yezin Shin, Dongmin Chung, Dohui Kang, Taeyeon Kim for GENIERR

The facial end uses stainless steel deliberately. The material conducts temperature efficiently, so the ball arrives cool against the skin and stays that way through the session. That cooling effect reduces puffiness and enhances the lifting quality of the massage, especially around the eye area and jawline where gua sha tends to make the most noticeable difference. There’s no ice pack required, no refrigerator step before the routine begins.

The ceramic lower section handles everything below the neck, and the material logic is just as intentional. Ceramic’s natural weight gives the massage a substantive feel without the user having to press hard, while its inherent coolness extends that same calm, unhurried tactile quality to broader muscle work. The protrusions themselves went through iterative refinement to land on a curvature and density that stimulates circulation without irritating skin, which is the particular balance that mass-market scalp tools tend to get wrong.

The form is unified entirely in soft pink with a matte finish, which means the ceramic head and the coated body read as one object rather than two different components sharing space. A silicone loop at the top of the cap makes it easy to hold during the facial pass and doubles as a travel-friendly hanging point. The whole thing is compact enough to keep on a bathroom counter without visually cluttering the space, or slip into a bag without needing a separate case.

For GENIERR, the dual tool also serves a larger purpose. The brand’s shampoos, essences, and serums address hair and skin separately, but a single ritual tool that moves between scalp and face gives users a physical through line connecting those products into one practice. The RE2AL doesn’t just reduce clutter; it gives the daily routine a more coherent shape.

Most beauty tools are designed for one moment of a routine and then set aside. This one travels with you from the scalp down to the face without stopping to swap instruments, and that uninterrupted continuity turns out to be a more meaningful improvement to the self-care experience than any single material upgrade could have been on its own. The RE2AL makes the argument that the most useful tool is the one that’s already in your hand.

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Merach UltraRow R60N review: Built for harder home rowing

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PROS:


  • Makes short, everyday rowing sessions easy to fit into the day

  • Smooth, adjustable resistance for harder bursts or longer rows

  • Comfortable fit, solid build, and an adjustable phone/tablet holder

  • Rowing-generated power helps extend the console's AA battery life

CONS:


  • Pairing with the app replaces the console metrics with a BT indicator

  • The console still uses four AA batteries

RATINGS:

AESTHETICS
ERGONOMICS
PERFORMANCE
SUSTAINABILITY / REPAIRABILITY
VALUE FOR MONEY

EDITOR'S QUOTE:

The UltraRow R60N rowing machine makes it easy to move more, more often.

At 52, I don’t want every bit of movement to require workout clothes, a drive to the gym, or a scheduled block of time. During two weeks with the Merach UltraRow R60N, I used it every day in two-, 10-, and 15-minute bursts, often when my watch or smart ring told me to get up and move. That became the point of the machine: it was there when I had a few minutes, not waiting for me to commit to a formal workout.

The R60N is a large home rowing machine, measuring 93.9 inches long and weighing 86.6 pounds. It combines air resistance at levels 1 through 7 with added magnetic resistance at levels 8 through 10. At $799.99 when this review was prepared, it asks for real floor space, but it delivers a comfortable, full-body cardio option that I could use without a lot of setup or impact.

Click Here to Buy Now: $699.99 $1099.99 ($400 off). Hurry, deal ends in 48-hours!

Aesthetics and Ergonomics

The UltraRow R60N looks like equipment rather than furniture. The smoked-black flywheel grille, matte surfaces, long single rail, exposed handle, and adjustable footrests all emphasize the mechanical path of a rowing stroke. It’s a purposeful, utilitarian design that doesn’t try to disappear into a living room.

Nothing about the R60N feels flimsy. The materials feel good in hand, the assembly feels solid, and the dark color gives it a restrained, masculine look that fits the straightforward mechanical design.

It doesn’t disappear physically, either. The assembled rower measures 2,385 x 500 x 876 mm, or approximately 93.9 x 19.7 x 34.5 inches. Its long, narrow stance demands a dedicated lane for the rowing motion, even though the machine itself isn’t especially wide. In person, it feels like a serious space commitment when it’s expanded and ready to row. At 39.3 kg, or about 86.6 pounds, moving the complete rower requires more than a casual lift or quick relocation.

Merach describes the R60N as foldable in some materials, but its storage system works differently from a conventional upright fold. The rower separates where the long rear rail and seat section meet the front assembly that houses the flywheel, resistance control, and display. There are no screws to remove. Instead, the two sections meet through a tension-held, tool-free connection that comes apart the same way in reverse.

Setup was relatively straightforward, and I was able to install it alone. The unexpected part was bringing those sections together for the first time, because it changes the R60N from two manageable components into one long, substantial machine. Once it’s connected, though, moving it around the room is easier than its overall 86.6-pound weight suggests. Lifting from the rear brings the front transport wheels into play, making it manageable for one person to reposition or fine-tune its location.

Merach lists the stored arrangement at 910 x 700 x 1,335 mm, or approximately 35.8 x 27.6 x 52.6 inches. That makes the machine much shorter in storage, but wider and taller than its assembled footprint. It still needs a committed storage location. The wheels make it easy enough to reposition the assembled rower within one room, but moving it between rooms means detaching the two sections and carrying them separately.

A 410 mm, or 16.1-inch, seat gives the R60N a notably elevated entry point. In use, its broad, shaped surface felt ergonomic and comfortable rather than restrictive. I didn’t experience pain or discomfort during my sessions. Once the foot straps were secured, the setup felt stable and straightforward enough to stop thinking about.

At 6’2″, I had plenty of room to row comfortably. The long rail is listed at 1,250 mm with a 1,200 mm inseam allowance, while the footrests offer seven adjustment positions. Merach publishes a user-height range of 3’11” to 6’10” and a 500-pound maximum weight capacity, so the company intends the R60N to accommodate a wide range of body types. A 510 mm handle and widely spaced pedals round out that accommodating layout.

The 5.3-inch adjustable LCD is small by connected-fitness standards, but that’s part of the R60N’s character. It treats the display as an instrument panel rather than an entertainment screen, with fields for time, distance, calories, strokes, pulse, stroke rate, 500-meter pace, watts, and averages. Merach also calls the display backlit and anti-glare.

Performance

The R60N is built around the transition from air resistance to a combination of air and magnetic resistance. Merach documents levels 1 through 7 as air-only settings and levels 8 through 10 as air-plus-magnetic settings. You change those levels with a large manual resistance control, which Merach describes as a lever adjustment. A 32-blade fan and 3.5 kg flywheel provide the moving mass behind that system.

In use, the resistance adjustment felt good and intuitive. I could move from an easier setting into heavier tension to find the right effort, then use that range differently depending on the session. For short, timed bursts, I turned the resistance up. For longer rows, I eased it back so I wouldn’t tire out too quickly.

At levels 8 through 10, the R60N adds magnetic resistance rather than relying only on a faster pull. Merach’s 900N peak-resistance figure is tied to 25 strokes per minute, so it is a manufacturer rating, not an independently measured result. In my use, the shift into heavier resistance felt smooth and useful for short, harder intervals.

Over two weeks, I used the R60N every day, but not through a conventional workout routine. I lost count of the sessions because they ranged from two minutes to 10 or 15 minutes whenever my watch or smart ring prompted me to get up and move. I could step away from my desk, get on the rower in whatever I was already wearing, and row while listening to a show, watching TV, or talking with someone in the room.

That convenience became the most persuasive part of the experience. I didn’t have to block out an hour, change clothes, or make a formal commitment to exercise. The R60N was simply there, ready for however long I had or until I was tired. It isn’t silent, but the airflow created while rowing is noticeable in a pleasant way, and the overall noise never felt intrusive. For me, it removes much of the friction that turns a workout into something easy to postpone.

The console is meant to complement that training style. The display itself is good in initial use, and it lists workout metrics including pace, watts, strokes, and heart-rate data. Merach’s current product page doesn’t list built-in programs, but it does list Bluetooth connectivity for the MERACH app.

Pairing the rower to the app worked fine in my use. The tradeoff is that, once connected, the onboard display shows only a BT indicator. In other words, the app becomes the active workout display, so you can’t follow the app and read the console’s usual metrics at the same time. That behavior makes sense, but it’s worth knowing before choosing where to place your phone or tablet.

Above the display, an adjustable holder accepts a phone or small tablet. It tilts up and down, so it can keep a workout app, a show, or other content within view while you row. That small detail supports the R60N’s best practical trait: it’s easy to use for a few minutes whenever there’s time, rather than only during a planned workout.

Connected features are a bonus

The R60N doesn’t need an app to work. Its own display handles the essential workout information, and its resistance remains a manual-lever adjustment. That’s the right hierarchy: the machine is the product, while the MERACH app can add structure or variety if it suits the way you train.

What the free MERACH app adds

The MERACH app is free to download. Its no-subscription starting point includes Free Training, timed training, and distance-based goals, along with a dashboard for duration, distance, calories, and workout history. MERACH also lists challenges such as GlobalGo, which uses completed activity to unlock regional badges.

That is enough to make a phone or tablet more useful than a passive screen beside the rower. It gives the R60N owner a place to save sessions, set a simple target, revisit progress, or choose a basic guided workout without turning a straightforward row into a recurring bill.

What a paid service adds

MERACH’s U.S. App Store listing currently shows subscriptions at $7.99 per month or $79.99 per year. The company says that advanced trainer-led on-demand classes may require a paid membership, but it doesn’t publish a clear online feature-by-feature paywall. The practical benefit of paying is likely to be more guided content and a deeper training library, not a change to how the R60N itself creates resistance.

For someone who likes to get on, row hard, and get off, the free MERACH tools and the onboard display may be all they need. A paid MERACH membership matters more for a buyer who wants a steady supply of guided sessions and community-style motivation.

Sustainability and repairability

One understated benefit is that the R60N doesn’t need to live beside an outlet. For day-to-day use, that makes placement simpler and avoids another powered device drawing from the wall. The R60N is otherwise non-motorized, with the workout itself driving the resistance system.

That benefit comes with a small qualification: Merach lists four AA batteries for the display. The company also says rowing motion helps power the console, while its FAQ says batteries remain necessary for the display. In practice, this is a lower-power, outlet-free setup, not a completely battery-free one.

Long-term ownership will come down to ordinary mechanical details. The R60N uses a nickel-plated steel pull rope, a single aluminum rail, PU seat rollers, adjustable footrests, and a manual resistance lever. These are the parts that matter most over repeated sessions, storage cycles, and routine cleaning.

Warranty language deserves equally close attention. Merach’s product page promotes a two-year warranty, while its U.S. warranty page describes one year of standard coverage plus an additional year after registration. Buyers should register the product and confirm the current warranty terms, maintenance guidance, and replacement-part availability before purchasing.

Value

At $799.99 when this review was prepared, the R60N is priced like a serious piece of home fitness equipment. The money goes toward the air-plus-magnetic resistance system, heavy single-rail chassis, elevated seat, long rail, detachable two-piece storage, and backlit performance console. What matters is how those pieces affect daily use, and that is where the R60N earns its place.

The R60N makes the strongest case for someone with enough dedicated space who wants a machine they can use in short, repeatable bursts at home or in an office. At 52, I valued being able to get up, move, and raise my heart rate without the impact or preparation I associate with running. The rowing motion engaged my legs, calves, ankles, core, and arms, making it feel like a full-body cardio option rather than a machine that limits movement to one area.

I wouldn’t buy it solely as a muscle-building tool. Its real value is that it makes regular movement unusually accessible: you can get on for a few minutes or 10 minutes without changing clothes, driving to a gym, or paying for a membership. People without a dedicated storage location, or anyone who needs to move the rower between rooms often, should look for something with a smaller footprint.

Verdict

The Merach UltraRow R60N is at its best when it has a permanent place in your home or office. Its resistance range, comfortable fit, compact display, and adjustable device holder made it easy for me to move more often without treating every session like a workout.

The caveat is space. The R60N is long when assembled, and its two-piece storage design is practical for a dedicated room but not for carrying from room to room. If you can give it a home and want convenient, whole-body cardio on your own schedule, it earns its $799.99 price.

Click Here to Buy Now: $699.99 $1099.99 ($400 off). Hurry, deal ends in 48-hours!

The post Merach UltraRow R60N review: Built for harder home rowing first appeared on Yanko Design.

The Ceramic Figures Turning Ancient Mesopotamia Into a Dress

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The first time you see Maryam Yousif’s ceramic figures, you feel like you’re being introduced to someone. Not admiring an object, not reading a plaque. Actually meeting a person who has a lot to say.

That is the whole idea. Yousif, an Iraqi-American artist based in San Francisco, has spent years building a universe of glazed ceramic figures she calls the “Habibti,” Arabic for “sweetheart” or “my love.” They are not decorative in the passive sense. They stand with quiet confidence, robed in dresses made of repeating rosette patterns, eye motifs, pomegranate shapes, and even other women’s faces. They look at you. Or rather, they look past you, the way the oldest, most self-assured things tend to do.

Designer: Maryam Yousif

What makes these figures so compelling to spend time with is the dresses. Each Habibti is draped in a pattern that functions almost like a visual archive. Rosettes borrowed from ancient Mesopotamian and Assyrian design. Repeating eye motifs that nod to protection and evil eye traditions woven throughout Middle Eastern and North African cultures. Sometimes the fabric of the dress is made entirely of other women’s faces, stacked and repeating like a tessellation of solidarity. Each pattern is distinct, but they all share the same quality of layering meaning without demanding that you decode it. Yousif renders all of it in vivid glaze, tangerine, wedgwood blue, desert yellow, green, giving what could have been scholarly reference the warmth and personality of something made with genuine affection.

The figures themselves are elegant and simplified. Black hair. Arms quietly at their sides. Some carry what looks like a structured bag, a detail lifted from ancient Assyrian carvings, where divine figures are often depicted holding a similar vessel. Yousif doesn’t footnote this for you. She trusts that the image works whether you recognize the source or not, and she is right to. The Habibti figures have a presence that operates independently of art history knowledge. You don’t need context to feel their composure.

What Yousif has built here is not a series so much as a cast of characters. Each figure has a distinct personality that comes through in color palette and patterning. Habibti in Yellow Desert Rosette Dress reads as ceremonial, almost solar. Habibti in Tangerine Rosette Dress is warmer, more intimate. Habibti in Green Rosette Dress feels grounded, earthly. The variation is intentional, and it matters. These are not multiples. They are individuals.

The Habibti concept draws from the Sumerian votive tradition, the practice of placing small clay figures in temples as stand-ins for worshippers who could not always be physically present. Those ancient figures were made to pray on behalf of the living. Yousif updates that idea with bold color, contemporary craft, and the Bay Area’s funk art sensibility, placing women at the center and naming each one after a term of endearment. The gesture reframes devotion entirely.

I keep thinking about the craft itself. Ceramics as a medium has a complicated relationship with fine art hierarchies. It has historically been positioned as craft, as decorative, as lesser than painting or sculpture. Yousif doesn’t seem particularly interested in resolving that tension. She just makes work that demands to be taken seriously on its own terms, which is arguably a more effective argument than any theoretical position could make. The glaze work is rich and precise. The forms are confident. The scale, mostly under 20 inches tall, makes the figures feel personal rather than monumental, like objects meant to share a room with you rather than be observed from a distance.

The Habibti sculptures are, at their core, about presence. The presence of women. The presence of culture across time. The presence of craft as a living, breathing carrier of memory. Maryam Yousif built an entire world out of glazed clay and ancient references, and it looks like nothing else being made right now. Not a revival. Not a tribute. Something genuinely new. That, more than anything, is the point.

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