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I Tried Black Toilet Paper and It Made Me Feel Weirdly Elite

There’s a certain allure to the unexpected colorway. It all started with Crystal Pepsi, but there was also that period in the nineties when Heinz released mucky purple ketchup and Kraft released electric blue macaroni in Blue’s Clues-themed boxes; every consumer packaged good was suddenly so colorfucked it looked like an MLB expansion franchise. Nowadays, companies are painting it black. We had Tumblr-era “blk.” water. Now we have charcoal toothpaste. The trend is premised on a simple and inarguable conceit: Black is cool. I’m bought in, which is why I bought a $3 roll of Renova’s now infamous 3-Ply Soft Black Toilet Paper.

When black toilet paper first trended its way onto my TikTok “for you” page, I became instantly intrigued. It made no sense. I had recently moved to a new city and was feeling acquisitive. Everything new was new again. I’d purchased gory artwork. I’d painted two chairs lime green and upholstered them in cow print. Black toilet paper was the next illogical move.

Tyler Schoeber | SPY

After alleviating my concern that I would stain my anus black, I pulled the trigger and bought 6 rolls for $20. I also did that math. Amazon Basics 2-Ply Toilet Paper goes for $20 for 30 rolls. I was paying a roughly 500% premium to wipe in style. So be it. Renova is black. Amazon Basics is not.

Plus, I got that extra ply.

Upon delivery, the first thing I took note of how compact the rolls were. Inside the packaging, each black toilet paper roll looked quite skinny. This initially led me to assume I’d be rubbing my ass with gift bag tissue paper. It wasn’t until taking each roll out that I noticed the paper was quite thick – a lot thicker than what I’m used to. I became confident enough to stick to the two-square rule when wiping; I was a little worried I’d waste my cool new black toilet paper on my own ass before guests got to see it.

Courtesy of Amazon

Wiping with the toilet paper felt… wait for it… normal. Like, as normal as wiping your ass feels – at least on a physical level. No ripping, no tearing, no pilling, just an easy, simple, fear-free wipe.

The paper has a thick, napkin-like feel, but that was fine. The only issue was that it became hard to tell when I was done wiping. I’m a looker. I want to be sure I’m as clean as a whistle. I want to be sure there is no, like, blood, or anything. Black toilet paper has what we might call a diminished diagnostic function. I just wipe a little extra when using black toilet paper, just in case.

It’s really just a visual thing and, on a visual level, it works. It has a Wednesday Addams vibe to it. It begs the question: “What would the Charmin bears wipe with if they got into death metal?” It’s ridiculous, but there’s a place for that. I get compliments from my guests (who always use three or four squares, the pricks).

Does it need to exist? Absolutely not. It’s not even the best toilet paper I’ve ever used. Am I glad it does exist? Yes. I grew up, I moved out, I got my own place in a new city. In my apartment, we wipe in style.