A £419.99 toothbrush with a camera and a built-in flosser sounds mad, until you’re the daughter of a dentist. I put the CameraJet through its paces and only had one complaint, and it wasn’t about the tech.
Right, so Dyson has made a £419.99 toothbrush with a camera in it. I know how that sounds. But I grew up with a dad who checked my brushing technique the way other parents checked homework, so a toothbrush that films your gumline and floss-jets your gaps for you isn’t tech excess to me, it’s just finally catching up. I’ve been using it daily for a few weeks now and honestly? I get it. I get why it costs what it costs.
A camera in your mouth, no really
The whole thing is built around a 100k-pixel macro lens in the brush head, powered by Dyson’s “Gap Optical Targeting”, basically machine learning that maps the gaps between your teeth as you go. It streams to the MyDyson app, so you’re watching, live, exactly what’s happening in there. My dad spent years telling me I was skimming my gumline. The CameraJet just proved him right, on my own phone screen, which is a very specific kind of humbling.
Same camera doubles up as a little dental endoscope too, which is genuinely handy if you’ve ever nodded along at the dentist without actually seeing what they were pointing at on the X-ray. Now I can just look myself.
The flossing is the actual star, though
The camera’s the headline grabber, but it’s the automated flossing that’s kept me coming back. It uses that same gap-mapping to fire a precise water jet between your teeth while you brush, so brushing and flossing happen in the same sixty seconds instead of being two separate jobs I’d otherwise dodge. Dyson reckons up to 69% more plaque removal in the hard-to-reach spots versus other premium electric brushes, and anecdotally, my gums have actually stopped bleeding when I do floss with string, which is the tell that actually matters.
One quirk worth flagging: the mouthrinse tank makes the handle noticeably chunkier than a normal electric toothbrush, and if you don’t keep your lips sealed during the auto-jet cycle, it will absolutely christen your mirror. Small price to pay for not flossing separately, honestly.
The toothpaste flavour: my one gripe, and it’s just me
The toothpastes come in Ginger Mint, Spearmint, or a Peppermint Sensitive option, all SLS-free so the foam doesn’t block the camera’s view. Smart engineering, but it does mean the paste tastes nothing like what you grew up with, thinner, less foamy, more herbal. Not for me. But that’s a taste thing, not a product flaw. The formulation is doing real work (fluoride, xylitol, phosphates), and I’ll take effective-but-unfamiliar over familiar-but-useless any day.
The dentist’s-daughter verdict
I’ve watched a lot of oral care gadgets pass through my family without landing. Most solve problems that don’t really exist. This one does: it tackles the actual reason most of us have rubbish oral hygiene, it’s boring, and you can’t see what you’re doing wrong. My dad would take one look at this and ask what took Dyson so long.
At £419.99, plus £25 for a two-pack of brush heads, this is not an impulse buy. But if you’ve ever left a check-up with a vague “you should really floss more” ringing in your ears and no real way to fix it, this is the first thing I’ve tried that actually closes that gap. Literally.
Rating: 4.5/5, half a point off for the toothpaste flavour, and that’s entirely me being fussy.
