Toto Ltd. is maker of a top-of-the-line piece of "sanitaryware," including such standard features as a heated seat, front and back washing jets, blow drying, a digital timer and a recording of water flushing to cover any embarrassing noises. The techno-toilet may sound appealing, but sanitaryware newbies need to know that it's not all pleasantly warm gusts of air. Tara, 26, stopping at a hardware store in Shinjuku on her way home from work at a Japanese advertising firm, agreed to recount her worst bathroom moment on condition that her last name be withheld.
"These toilets can really take you by surprise," confided Tara, a native of Midland, Texas, where the toilets are nothing fancy. Tara's office bathroom has a model with a control console looking like "something out of the space shuttle." One day, she leaned forward and pressed the wrong button. A bidet nozzle shot a jet of water up into the air - and splashed a broad wet line down the back of her clothing before she could find the "stop" button. She slunk out of the office early that day. "I don't push any of those buttons any more. I just count on the automatic flush to work," she said sheepishly. "I would never, ever buy one." Toilet users are a tough crowd.
Sales for Toto, Japan's top toilet manufacturer with an estimated 68 to 75 percent of the market, have plummeted since the recession began. The company reported sales were down 11 percent in 1997, though it still had a profit of about $30 million. This year, the company is looking at a loss of $87 million.
Hopes lie overseas
Like many Japanese manufacturers, Toto's hopes lie overseas. Spokesmen have said the company is counting on new products and on expanding markets in the U.S. and eventually, Europe, to save the day.
Last week, at the company's showroom on two upper floors of a Tokyo high-rise, many shoppers were eyeing - but few buying - Toto's combination toilet and bidet, the "Washlet." Some even tested the device personally in the special "Trylet" bathroom stalls. "Sugoi (wow)," said Toshihide Ito, who with his wife was browsing among the more elaborate models, which run about $2,000 to $4,000.
He investigated a toilet whose seat lifts up to help an elderly or handicapped person to his feet. The toilet had more than a dozen cables emerging in a tangle from its base. The Itos, in their 60s, left without buying anything. "Very useful, but very expensive," he said, looking out the window at the Tokyo skyline. "This is not a good time."
"Japan is a mature market for these integrated toilets. In the U.S. you can hardly talk about bathroom hygiene. It's hard to overcome a taboo, so we're going slowly," he says. In contrast, the Japanese seem to have no trouble talking about toilets, and in detail, at that. The Japan Toilet Association, an independent study group, has 100 members and is chaired by a distinguished retired professor. There are dozens of Japan-based web sites dedicated to musings about toilets or photos of toilets. Warden notes that in the 1960s, people thought the idea of whirlpool jets in a bathtub were frivolous. "They kept saying, 'Who needs bubbles in a bathtub?'" he says. "Now you'd hardly think of designing a house without one."
