It has only one shade of light, and while you can adjust the brightness, you can't make it warmer (yellower) or cooler (bluer). Everything else, like setting wake-up schedules and adjusting the length of the sunsets and sunrises in 15-minute increments (up to 90 minutes), is controlled through the app. There's a button on top to pause and unpause it, and when it's sitting on the charging pad, just turn it to adjust the brightness. To start the sunset program before bed, just flip the alarm over.
You've got to hand it to Casper for intuitive design. Perhaps it's worth it if you have a particularly large bedroom and want the extra light for reading as you settle into bed. It's five times the price of the Homelabs, but it's not five times the alarm. This would be my top pick if it wasn't so expensive. The clock display and touch controls are a cut above the cheaper alarms. The more upscale Philips SmartSleep model (below) barely beats it out in the quality of light, but the HF3520 has the second-nicest light quality in this roundup. Light is beautifully diffused, which keeps the rays from being blinding-that's especially nice in a dark room when your pupils are enlarged and particularly susceptible to harsh light. The lens is convex, and some light shines through the back of the casing, so it casts light in more directions than other headlight-shaped sunrise clocks I reviewed, like the Homelabs and Totobay. It has the usual features, such as an audible alarm, five natural wake-up sounds, and an FM radio. The Philips HF3520 oozes build quality and is easily the nicest alarm in this guide. It reminded me of my college job at a hot rod shop, lugging around headlights from old 1950s Mercurys and Chevys. Why is this so heavy? And big? Those were my first thoughts when I took Philips' alarm out of the box. It's a steal at $40, especially with the extras like multicolor mood lighting, access to an FM radio, and a center Snooze button that's easy to hit. I'll never understand why more alarms don't offer it. For people like me, who have always hated seeing glowing numbers in an otherwise dark room, the latter is a great option. It's still plenty bright to help wake you up, though.
The light is also not as diffused as the higher-end alarms on this list-certainly enough to read by before bed, but not quite as able to bathe the whole room in light. It did a good job of casting enough light when it was the only lamp in my otherwise dark bedroom, but it's a bit on the small side, and because of its headlamp-like shape it shines most in a particular direction. There are nature sounds, like birds and ocean waves, to help you wake up too. The artificial sunrise was enough to rouse me out of bed, but it wasn't too bright. It's simple to use, and the light on the sunset setting was warm and relaxing. A solid metal stand and touch-sensitive buttons for $40!? Hell yes. Yanking it out of the box, the build quality of this thing smacked me right upside the head. Subscriptions help fund the work we do every day. com and our print magazine (if you'd like). Special offer for Gear readers: Get a 1-year subscription to WIRED for $5 ($25 off). Updated November 2021: We've updated pricing and added retailers for products throughout. These are my favorites.Ĭheck out our many other buying guides, such as the Best Mattresses, the Best Weighted Blankets, and the Best Sound Machines, all of which could help you get a better night's sleep. I've tested the best sunrise alarm clocks-and a few of the worst-on the market. They simulate gradual sunsets at night and gradual sunrises in the morning to help you fall asleep and wake up more naturally by tricking your biological hardware. That horror-filled moment that sharply cuts a light bedroom from a dark one, when all you want is to slowly bring your consciousness to life and the day instead opens the Ark of the Covenant right in your face.Īlmost all of us need more sleep, but modern humans keep weird hours and no longer go to bed or rise with our natural sleep cycles. There ought to be a word for that moment when you draw back the curtains in the morning and recoil under the withering explosion of sunlight.