The Best Bidet Toilet Seats and Attachments of 2021

The Brondell’s seats we tested were consistently top performers, both in subjective experience and in our tests.

The Swash comes with a lot of bells and whistles. There’s a deodorizer, a seat warmer, air drying, warm water, pre-programmable user settings for two people, and more. Some of these features are more useful than others. The warm air dryer was fantastic and saved a lot of toilet paper. On the other hand, most people probably might not care about sterilizing the stainless-steel nozzle with a spray of silver nanoparticles, and the deodorizer leaves behind a chemical smell that isn’t great.

But the features that you will want to use are fantastic. And the core experience of washing, from start to finish, is the best out of everything we tested. The cleanliness, the comfort, and the adjustability fire on all cylinders. The experience is so smooth that we accidentally left this one on the toilet for an extra week because it just felt like such a natural part of the household.

The remote control is easy to use, and the bidet responds well to it—which isn’t the case with every remote-controlled seat, unfortunately. A remote may not sound like a big deal, but it can be a big help. Seat-mounted controls can be easily obscured by your thighs, and they’re pretty far away if you have vision trouble. That makes the remote a nice option for accessibility.

As the top-tier Brondell we tested, it’s one of the priciest models around. But considering that it’s the category's equivalent of a supercar, the performance backs up its price tag.

Bidet attachments tend to be a lot more affordable and the Bio Bidet Elite3 is no exception. But while it may be straightforward, it’s a fantastically effective and well-crafted.

Installation was very simple, and the materials were solid, including a metal T-adapter for adding the water line out to the bidet.

The controls are simple. You get an angle knob and a pressure knob. Adjusting them perfectly together can take a little bit of work to get what you want, but it gives the bidet an impressive range.

Plenty of other products have more features, but few give you this much control over the basics, and in the end that lets the Elite3 shine.

It’s comfortable to use, it cleans well, and it’s well-made, especially for the price. This attachment is thin, which gives it a low profile, but it doesn’t feel flimsy. There aren’t a lot of special features, but truth be told, that’s typical of attachment models. Unless you want to run a warm water line from your sink (which some models do allow), you’re going to make do with the water temperature that you get.

Brondell’s SE400 drops some of the more extreme bells and whistles from the Swash 1400, and not all of the parts are as nice. (The T-adapter is plastic, for example.) But the core quality of the cleaning experience is there, the onboard controls are easy to use, and there are still a solid number of great features for the price point.

In addition to angle and pressure adjustments, you get hot and cold water, a pulsing “massage” function, and an auto mode that runs through a cleaning cycle for you. Most of the features missing from the Swash are features we were on the fence about anyway, like the deodorizer. All in all, this is a fantastic bidet, especially if you don’t need the remote control.

This is a model where the nozzle placement felt a little unusual, and we often used the front wash function as a rear wash. The good news is that the front wash makes an excellent rear wash, even if that isn’t the stated intent.

The Toto Washlet C200 was a great experience, but it took a little longer to get into than many of the other models. The instructions in the manual were baffling, convoluted, and suggested using tools that weren't included that we didn’t need. This was not the first bidet we installed, and we would have been in trouble if it were. Thankfully, some YouTube tutorials helped us figure out how to put this thing together.

Once you get the Toto seat installed, however, it’s an absolute dream. The materials are solid and durable. The T joint is made of plastic, but it’s a heavier plastic than many of the others. (Still, at this higher price point and feature set, it seems like an odd choice.)

The remote is oddly attractive, with a smooth aesthetic and large, easy-to-read buttons. You can control front and rear wash, pulsating and oscillation, as well as the pressure and position of the water. There’s a dryer, and you can store user presets for two people, so you each use the cleaning settings you want with ease.

On the back of the remote is an LCD screen, where you can control the temperature of the water, seat, and dryer. You can also adjust settings like self-cleaning and the energy saver mode here. An LCD screen is a bit of an odd feature, and kind of feels like an extra part that can go awry. Not to mention, a two-sided remote control is counterintuitive. But the remote is one of the best we’ve found in terms of actual usability.

While some of the remotes on other models are finicky, only working in a specific area, the Toto C200’s can work from just about anywhere your arm might land. Out of curiosity, we even had someone test it from the next room, and as long as the door isn’t closed, it works just fine. The remote runs on 2 AA batteries, which are easy to install. LCD impracticalities aside, it’s a fantastic remote-control experience.

As far as the actual cleaning proficiency goes, it’s solid—one of the best cleans we got from any of the bidets that we tested. It does take a while to gear up, like most of the seats do, but the delay isn’t a huge concern. Some of the features, like the pre-mist and the deodorizer, weren’t particularly necessary or helpful, but the pressure and temperature adjustments were. During testing, the Toto was one of the models where we got carried away and left it on the toilet longer than intended because the experience was so great.

Omigo’s packaging and marketing is a little cheeky, but if you have the right sense of humor for it, it can make things a little less intimidating. The straightforward installation also makes things easy for newcomers. There’s a decent array of features, including a front and rear wash, pressure and spray width adjustments, and the ability to warm up the water and the seat. You can also store user presets that will remember pressure and temperature settings for two people.

That said, the controls aren’t as easy to navigate as some others. You can turn the night light off, but to do so, you’ll need to press two buttons at the same time, and there’s no way to know that without the manual.

The remote indicates that the water temperature controls also adjust the air dryer temperature, but the model we tested doesn’t have an air dryer, so that was a little odd. Some functionality can only be found on the seat itself, and the remote is a bit of a clunker. It requires no fewer than four C2032 batteries and prying the battery hatch open required a screwdriver every single time, because the hatch refused to give way under our fingers.

Every time you sit down, it makes a friendly little chime and starts cleaning the nozzle, which is a little unusual. Like many similar models, it takes a while for the water to spin up, regardless of the water temperature. But the water jet cleans well, and this was one of the models where it was most difficult to hurt yourself, perhaps in part because of the “spray width” adjustment.

The Luxe Bidet Neo 120 is an extremely straightforward, well-made attachment. The packaging comes emblazoned with customer reviews like “Fantasstic!” Which is a bit much, but it’s certainly disarming. It’s hard to be intimidated by something that self-advocates with butt puns.

It comes with a very clear set of instructions and a very substantial set of materials. The water hose and T-adapter are both made of metal. It comes with a plastic wrench that you don’t actually need but is nice to have. It also includes some Teflon plumbers’ tape—again, not a necessity, but nice, and a rarity among the models we tested. The instructions clearly indicated details of installation that others didn’t and were capped off with a clearly labeled diagram of how everything fits together, which can be really handy depending on how you learn and process new information.

The adjustable water stream isn’t as helpful as some other attachment models. More often than not, I found myself scooting on the seat to be closer to the stream, rather than redirecting the flow. The cleaning is effective, but the water stream can be a bit much at times, and it’s easy to turn the knob to a place that leads to a little bit of discomfort.

The SE600 is extremely similar to the SE400. The defining difference is the remote control. Using a remote makes the seat a little more compact and presents some accessibility advantages. You don’t have to crane your neck and look to the side to reach the controls. If you have wider hips, you don’t have to navigate that—you can just use the remote! And if you have any vision issues, you can get the buttons on the remote as close or as far from your eyes as you need.

The SE600 also adds an activated charcoal deodorizer that eliminates odors and cycles them out through a vent system. Like many models, the deodorizing smell was a bit odd. Your mileage on the deodorizer may vary.

Unfortunately for the SE600, its big draw—the remote control—was a bit frustrating. Unlike the Swash 1400, the remote doesn’t always work unless you get it in a very specific range. Sitting on the toilet is not when you want to be frantically waving a remote control around, flipping it in different directions, and trying to get it to connect.

The remote’s control panel is minimalist but useful, using LEDs to show nozzle positioning, water pressure and drying temperature, as well as the water and seat temperature. There’s a pulsing massage, an oscillation feature (unhelpfully labelled “move”) and an auto mode.

All in all, using the remote was frustrating enough that this actually bumped it down on our list well below the SE400, which is a fantastic workhorse bidet seat at a reasonable price. The remote just doesn’t add that much to the experience, frankly.

The Alpha Bidet’s features and price put it in pretty direct competition with the Toto Washlet C200, and it suffers a bit for the comparison. Make no mistake, the JX is a perfectly serviceable product. It’s made of decent stuff.

The metal T-adapter is always a positive sign, and the bolts have square heads instead of rectangular ones, meaning that they’ll lock into the mounting plate no matter which direction you put them in. It’s a very small, one-off convenience (assuming you aren’t installing and uninstalling a dozen of these like we did), but it speaks to a thoughtfulness in engineering that’s encouraging. (The clicks we heard as we tightened the bolts by hand were somewhat less encouraging, but nobody bats a thousand.)

The included remote control was decently intuitive, and the battery hatch easy to open. That shouldn’t rate a mention, but after struggling with the Omigo, we noticed it on every subsequent remote. It runs on two AA batteries, which is easy enough to accommodate. However, the remote is extremely finicky. If you aren’t pointing it at just the right angle, or holding it in just the right place, it may not communicate with the bidet. However, there’s an LCD screen on the remote that will change.

That means that the remote will indicate a pressure or temperature that doesn’t match what the bidet is doing—until you get it in range, and it all slams into place. You can accidentally get the water pressure to shoot from 0 to 100 in an instant if you’re not careful, which is a pretty unwelcome surprise.

Overall, the Alpha offers a decent clean and some nice features. It comes with a wash and dry cycle, adjustable seat, water, and air-dry temperatures, and more. But at the end of the day, the Toto Washlet C200 does a similar if not better job, for an extremely similar price, with a much more reliable remote.

The Bio Bidet Bliss is an absolute Cadillac of this product category. This high-end model targets luxury users with a whole host of advanced features. Like the Swash 1400, some of those features were more useful than others. There’s an auto-cleaning mode that runs through a dedicated, programmable wash cycle. It cleans, oscillates if you want it to, then dries for a set amount of time.

The whole experience generally leaves you only using a square or two of toilet paper, if you want. (You could probably get away with nothing, but we were extra careful, and we had been tasked with measuring cleaning efficiency.)

Bio Bidet’s attachment was one of our favorites from the whole range we tested. Unfortunately, while their seat was solid, it didn’t stack up to its competition in the price range (mostly the Brondell).

The remote is serviceable, but not as streamlined or aesthetically pleasing as others we tested. That said, it’s got some recommendable features. The LCD screen is more helpful than I expected, but the utilitarian in me questions its necessity vs. it being “one more thing to go wrong” in a pinch.

One significant note on the Bio Bidet BB-2000: There is a button on the remote with an image of a jet of water shooting towards a person. It looks a bit like the Death Star Run from Star Wars. The purpose of this button is to shoot water inside of you. Apparently, this is meant to help people who are blocked up or experiencing constipation.

We cannot say whether it works. What we can say is that if you are a person who has sensitivities, or perhaps hemorrhoids, you should absolutely, under no circumstances, press this button. And you certainly should not press it without expecting what’s coming, out of curiosity, or because you’re trying to figure out if the remote is “intuitive”.

No remote with a button that does that can be considered intuitive. Take it from us, instead of learning the hard way. And while there are plenty of great features—a few more than you’re likely to actually need (hello again, deodorizer!)—the remote is far from intuitive, featuring a series of arcane symbols that you will definitely need the manual to interpret.

The Bio Bidet Bliss is a solid experience, but it loses a few points for obtuse controls, and for how easy it is to hurt yourself with the touch of a button.

The Ace electric bidet is Tushy’s first entry into the seat space. They call it the “Apple of bidets,” and that’s true to the extent that Apple is notorious for emphasizing aesthetics over functionality. This product is slick-looking—rounded, white, glowing, and far less bulky than many of its counterparts. But the look is far and away this seat’s best asset.
 
The Ace is a perfectly serviceable seat, with features comparable to other high-end models. However, not all of those features are implemented as well as other products in the price range. The water jet is weirdly intense, forcing users to choose between efficiency and comfort. The drying option is a bit anemic, focusing narrowly rather than drying the entire area affected by the water spray.
 
The Ace does have some things to recommend it. It’s certainly better-looking than just about any option out there, and the remote is one of the few remotes that isn’t downright ugly. However, that streamlined look comes at a price. Most of the options are adjusted with a single set of plus and minus buttons. You select the option to adjust, then use the plus or minus buttons. It’s not an intuitive user experience, but you can get used to it.
 
Overall, the Ace belongs in its weight class. But for all its visual polish, some of its features don’t work as smoothly as some of the other bidets we tested.

There's a lot about the Tushy that immediately seems nicer and friendlier than some of the other attachment models. As much of the packaging as possible is paper, with nary a plastic bag in sight. The directions are pretty comprehensive and easy to follow. They warn you against several things that might go wrong when you're messing around with your toilet's pipes. If we had tried this one first, we might not have had to turn to YouTube for pointers like we did when we were first starting out.

That said, it's not perfect. The tone of the copy is playful in a way that either seems inviting or grating depending on who you are. Though, having now written a great deal about these products, we certainly wouldn't be lying if we said that the phrase "seize the bidet" wasn't already running through our minds before seeing it in the Tushy manual.

They included a little bit of plumbers’ tape for shoring up pipe connections, which is a very nice detail. There's a nice, flexible metal hose for carrying water from the T-adapter to the bidet. But for all that consideration given to materials, the T-adapter where the water actually has to divert doesn't seem nearly as substantial. Though it is a custom part, with the little rubber washer built right in rather than having to insert it yourself.

As far as the performance, the Tushy was solid, but not incredible. The adjustability is decent but not as flexible as some of the other models we tested. And while there is a warm-water model, it’s one where you have to find a way to hook the bidet up to the warm water supply under your sink. That’s a lot easier said than done if you have cabinetry under your sink.

The Element is Omigo’s attachment. It comes in a friendly blue box emblazoned with messages like “Let’s Go!” and “The future always seems weird at first.” There’s also a vinyl sticker for your car, in case you want to let your fellow road warriors know that you’re living the bidet life.

The attachment is made of thin plastic and is appropriately firm, while the T-adapter and water hose are metallic. There are two washers instead of just one, and while they don’t fit into the adapter as easily as some others, the dual options give you some flexibility on fitting into your toilet’s pipe.

Frustratingly, the manual acts as though you’re either installing or plugging up a hot water line, but the model we tested doesn’t have a hot water line. If we weren’t already familiar with the installation process upon reaching this one, we might have been thrown off by the extra information, which isn’t clearly marked as being optional. (The Omigo attachment’s hot water model requires you to connect to the hot water under your sink, which is why we didn’t test it.)

There’s about a half-turn of water pressure flexibility in each direction—one for the front, one for the back. Pleasingly, the directions were labelled simply “front” and “rear.” Many bidets call the front wash “feminine wash” or something else less inclusive. It may seem like a small difference, but it matters to people. At full pressure, the rear wash shot across the bathroom and reached the ceiling. There’s a little shield for the nozzles, presumably to protect them while you use the toilet for other purposes. It doesn’t get as messy with its own spray as similarly-featured models did.

The water spray feels a little unwieldy somehow. It doesn’t create as large of a mess as some do, but it’s also not incredibly effective. Maybe we were just impatient, but we often had to go back and give the Element a second blast to really get things cleaned.

One downside: A quarter turn in either direction turns on the self-cleaning feature. You don’t really need to clean it that much, honestly. And the overall effect is that you can’t turn on the wash in either direction without first passing through the self-cleaning setting. This feels a bit like a waste of water, and it slows down the response time from turning it on to actually getting clean.

GenieBidet was the first device we tried installing, and it was how we learned that you need an existing toilet seat that isn’t quite flush in order to get an attachment on your toilet. The customer service representative was very helpful, going so far as to recommend brands. He claimed that they make the thinnest attachment out there, and this does seem to be true.

The GenieBidet is streamlined in a lot of ways. The thin plastic doesn’t feel as substantial as some of its competition, but it is certainly sleek. The controls are extremely simple. There’s a knob. Turn the knob in one direction, you get a rear wash. Turn it the other way, you get a front wash.

The T-adapter is mostly metal, topped with a plastic bit and built-in washer for threading onto the toilet’s water supply. A rubber water line connects the T-adapter to the bidet, which seems like it may have a little less longevity than some of the other hoses, but it’s not a huge deal.

There is a water pressure valve on the T-adapter, which is very unusual. It seems to run to the bidet itself. Which is good, because there is a lot of pressure in that little bidet. One tester noted that it “shot right through my legs and kept going!” You can adjust the pressure down at the source, but even at half-power, the GenieBidet was a little jumpy, leading to discomfort more often than some other models.

The controls can be a little frustrating to work. If you don’t get that knob dead center, water is going to be coming out of that bidet. But it aims for a small, simple, straightforward experience, and it succeeds at hitting that target.

The Astor bidet installation process was more complicated than it needed to be, right off the bat. For one, they claim that you’ll need a wrench and Teflon tape, whereas other bidet manuals acknowledge these things as optional, but not required. Some have even included the optional tape!

It’s especially odd for the Astor’s manual to assert this since it uses many of the same (or at least similar) parts for mounting to the toilet as the Tushy and Bio Bidet attachments. Maybe it’s to make up for the plastic T-adapter and plastic water hose?

We didn’t need the tape, but it seemed odd to make that claim. There was also a misspelling or two in the instructions. We may not be prescriptivists, but when you're trying to do something you're already not familiar with, typos are going to make things more daunting than necessary.

Beyond the instructions, the Astor was far and away the most frustrating to install, and the one that felt most tenuous once attached. The water supply line is a rubber hose that squeezes over a protrusion on the bidet attachment, and then you secure it with a plastic bolt. None of it feels well made, and none of it feels like it would hold very long. And since the directions have you install that part last, you’re left to scramble to do this upside down on the floor beneath your toilet, if you’re following the manual.

As for the wash, it’s decent. It’s very often painful, and it’s very bare-bones. There’s no front wash. This is a bidet for your rear. It does one thing, and it does that one thing with a fair bit more gusto than delicacy.