Can I interest you in a trip to the dentist? No? Not exactly the trip you’re looking to win on a game show, is it? Most people, myself included, fear and loathe the dentist. Maybe not the actual people, who are usually sunny and chipper in contrast to their grisly work, but certainly the actual act of being worked on by one of them. The standard dentist’s office is sterile, gray and utilitarian. Maybe there’s a poster telling you to “hang in there,” with a picture of a cat gripping a tree branch on it. Maybe they play the most inoffensive radio station they could find while you wait in a seat that looks as though it was borrowed from an airport in the 1990s. It’s not an experience designed to inspire or offer a sense of calm. It’s a holding pen for a torture chamber.
But what if it wasn’t? That’s the question Kiyan Mehdizadeh asked when he decided to renovate the 12th floor of a mid-century office building on Wilshire Boulevard for his dental practice in Beverly Hills. When Mehdizadeh — who does mostly cosmetic work like veneers, implants and gum work — committed to opening a third office for his business, he sat down and thought about what he wanted the experience of dental work to feel like. When I saw the space he created with the design firm of Charlap Hyman & Herrero — lush carpets, wooden walls, Italian Dominioni chairs and monochromatic color schemes that recall the best of 1960s and ’70s design — I referred to it as opulent. But Mehdizadeh doesn’t see it that way.
“Opulent isn’t the word I would use,” he told me over Zoom. “I like the word salubrious, like something that gives life, you know what I mean?”
A typical visit to the dentist doesn’t give life as much as it gives anxiety. Someone is going to stick a tube in your mouth, prod you with shining metal implements, and chances are strong you will bleed at some point. Worse yet, if you’re having a major surgery done, and you’re zonked on anesthetic, a room full of strangers will see you being dragged by your spouse/best friend/co-worker/bored neighbor you promised to buy dinner for on some undetermined night. Your mouth will be full of gauze or cotton balls and your eyes will be half-closed like last call at a sports bar. Mehdizadeh and the designers Adam Charlap Hyman and Andre Herrero — who work in both architecture and interior design and recently designed the 2024 New York Fashion Week dinner for Thom Browne — had an answer for that too: a circular office. Charlap Hyman & Herrero aimed to create a unique space that causes you to experience each and every room differently. Those rooms take you on a journey that inevitably leads to the exit.
You start in the lobby, head to a cozy waiting room that feels more like someone’s house than a dentist’s office, and then are shuttled to a stark white operating room filled with light from adjacent windows on the other side of the hall. When you’re done, you follow the circular path back out to the exit. The halls are lined with Mehdizadeh’s personal art collection, which includes works from Cy Twombly, Leonor Fini and more. There’s even wallpaper in the bathroom with drawings from erotic artist Tom of Finland, which certainly sets quite a tone for visitors. It’s all quite a step up from the “hang in there” poster. All of this happens in a continuous loop, without you ever being seen by another patient. No matter where you are in the office, you’re technically on your way out.
“It was the design team’s idea to make this little monolith in the middle of the office with the circular hallway on the outside,” Mehdizadeh says. “[W]hen they started talking about traffic flow, they were thinking of it like the way traffic flows in a hotel hallway or in a large home or something like that. They weren’t thinking of it in terms of dentistry — they brought this completely fresh perspective.”
Dentistry should ideally be a bit private, shouldn’t it? The invasive nature of it — gaping mouths, drool and other bodily fluid on full display — makes it an activity that makes us all feel deeply vulnerable. You’re prone, strapped into one of those reclining chairs and prepped for an excruciating afternoon. At least when you were a child, there were prizes at the end if you were good. I would always task myself with being as still as possible during my cleanings. If I could be the most perfect, cooperative patient, I thought, maybe I can take two prizes from the treasure chest. I never got a second prize. One prize per child was the stated policy and there would be no deviation. Maybe that’s why I’m still so unnerved by going to the dentist. Not only is it physically terrifying, but it also reminds me of the limitations of my charm.
There is no reward for being still in Mehdizadeh’s dentist chair other than something resembling peace. What Charlap Hyman & Herrero created was a place for reflection. You can lie prone on a plush red couch and ponder the nature of existence. You can be enveloped by a floor-to-ceiling pink room that looks like something out of the Barbie movie. Every room is its own environment, carefully crafted to make you feel something magical. These waiting rooms ideally get you to a place of inner peace before your entire mouth is rattled and you potentially lose sensation in your gums. But once you’re out of the chair and on your way, you’re one step closer to aesthetic nirvana.
The perfect smile can be the key to self-esteem, to happiness, to personal connection. Even more than our eyes, our smile is the key that unlocks trust amongst strangers. A flashy, warm smile has the power to disarm. We trust dentists so that they can help us earn trust from others. How does a dentist — with their drills and picks and other tools — earn trust from a patient? Well, as Kiyan Mehdizadeh’s office proves, having good taste certainly helps.
Photography courtesy of Charlap Hyman & Herrero.
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