Yet another issue for voters to chew on
15 October 2004
Turning off the television, the last image I saw from
After four debates, Kerry's chin, Bush's ears, Cheney's forehead and Edwards' hair are but dim memories. But the teeth endure. Kerry and Edwards are bright little lanterns, shining stars against a fake- tan firmament. Bush and Cheney's teeth, on the other hand, are dull and lifeless, pragmatic but hardly appealing.
Forget red states vs. blue states. The real schism is
For many of us, the state of our teeth has become a near mania. A friend, a well-respected physician around town, announces he is having a midlife crisis. But instead of a mistress or a fast car, he's decided to get his teeth whitened. His wife is appreciative. So too, I imagine, is his dentist.
He's hardly alone, however. Where once our teeth were afterthoughts, they are now a big business. In 2002 we spent $70.1 billion on dental care, almost double the amount we spent in 1990. And one of the fastest growing segments of that market is teeth whitening, now $600 million a year and growing by 15 percent to 20 percent annually.
Modern tooth care really began in the 20th century. Dupont marketed the first commercial toothbrush in 1938 (more sanitary than the animal-hair brushes it replaced, its harsh nylon bristles so damaged gums that dentists recommended against it). Fluoride, first noted as an anti-cavity agent in the 1800s, was incorporated into commercial toothpaste in 1955. Still, for most of us tooth care was little more than a chore, a routine of twice-daily brushing and regular visits to the dentist. We complied because our parents made us, although we all understood the medical consequences of refusing to do so: painful cavities, rotten teeth and the dread of a full set of dentures sitting in a glass on our night tables.
At some point things changed. Clean teeth became more than a matter of good health; they became our passion.
Once our choices were limited: Colgate or
Crest, regular or mint. Now my drugstore devotes a full aisle - 35
linear feet - to a cornucopia of dental wonders. Colgate today sells 47 kinds
of toothpaste. Crest has over 50. Even quaint little Tom's of
And how to choose? Take Aquafresh, for example. There's Extreme Clean (available in regular, whitening and - believe it or not - empower-mint), Whitening (multi-action, tartar protection or advanced), and Triple Protection (which includes varieties labeled "All," "Extra Fresh" and "Cavity Protection").
It used to be I would just buy the largest size, figuring it would last me six months. Now I pick the tiniest tube, using it as quickly as I can so I can move on to the next.
Kids haven't been left behind, either. There's Barbie Colgate and a Winnie the Pooh Oral B. Mary Kate and Ashley have their own brand of Aquafresh. There's even the mysteriously named Orajel Training Toothpaste (and exactly what are we training our children's teeth to do?).
It doesn't stop with toothpaste. Mouthwashes come in a dizzying array of flavors. Floss - a dull product if there ever was one - now whitens, freshens breath and is laced with fluoride. Toothbrushes, meanwhile, have become ever more elaborate: Mechanical or manual; cross-action, flex-head, active angle and even the "wave." Whitening gels and strips, meanwhile, promise dentist-like whiteness, a promise that dentists deny, claiming only they can deliver the whitest of the 16 shades that patients now demand.
But what does it all mean? Are white teeth akin to Botox and plastic surgery, a way to defy the advancing years? Are they simply a new fashion, like belly shirts or nose jewelry? Do we somehow believe a whiter smile communicates a friendlier, more sincere person? Is it the modern elevation of style over substance, the superficial over the real? And how does any of this mesh with our burgeoning waistlines, a problem more visible than a few yellowed teeth?
And what do white teeth say to voters?
In politics, especially media-driven presidential politics, few things happen by accident. The gleam of the candidates' teeth is part of their image. And that gleam, or lack of it, communicates something. Do Kerry and Edwards' polished smiles promise us a brighter future? Do Bush and Cheney's blemished teeth speak to the grim work of fighting terrorism?
Yellow vs. white - yet another issue over which a divided electorate must chew.