Their Product Has Gone to the Dogs . . . Fortunately

We first caught up with Anthony and Lauren Raissen at the 1992 Garlic Festival in Westwood. At their booth--strategically located near that of a dating service--they were pushing their brand-new product, Garlic-Go, “the internal breath freshener.”

People giggled and walked on.

We last caught up with the Raissens at last weekend’s Burbank Kennel Club show. At their booth, they were pushing their brand-new product, PureBreath, “the internal breath freshener for pets.”

In the three years between, Garlic-Go became BreathAsure and the Raissens--with actor George Kennedy as spokesman--built a multimillion-dollar empire around their little amber capsules. This year, they expect gross sales to top $12 million.

People aren’t giggling anymore.

And BreathAsure, launched in the spare bedroom of the Raissens’ Encino townhouse--”I’d have to climb over the bed to get to my side of the office,” Anthony recalls--has 30 employees working at a 9,000-square-foot headquarters in Calabasas. (Between townhouse and Calabasas, headquarters was above an Italian restaurant, which gave out BreathAsure to departing diners).

Pickles--smelly pickles--got the Raissens where they are today. Anthony, it seems, never saw a pickle or an onion he didn’t like. When Lauren was pregnant with the older of their two children and suffering morning sickness, “She wanted to throw me out of the house.”

Loving both his wife and his pickled cucumbers, he sought a solution in mouthwashes and toothpastes, but to no avail. Chewing parsley was more effective, but he was soon parsleyed-out. Pillow talk about The Problem turned to serious talk. Was there fame and fortune for someone who found a solution?

While toiling at their regular jobs--Anthony, now 34, was an electrical engineer and Lauren, now 30, an accountant--they began sniffing out ideas for a revolutionary breath freshener, neither mint nor mouthwash, but a product that worked in the digestive system. “Everything pointed to parsley,” Anthony says.

By 1992, five years after they’d arrived in L.A. from their native South Africa, they’d heard about a parsley seed oil and sunflower oil formula called Pongo that was being sold at a few pharmacies in Johannesburg. Before you could say halitosis, they’d bought the distribution rights.

Garlic-Go was born. A friend told a friend. Local radio personalities began touting it. The Raissens knew they were onto something. Still, consumers seemed confused. What was this stuff? A food supplement?

The name had to go. Rejecting Breath Eraser, Breath Defense and Breath Be Gone, they settled on BreathAsure, with an intentional misspelling that fit better on the logo. Before long, they’d bought out Pongo, lock, stock and parsley.

“It’s been an absolute phenomenon,” says executive veep Anthony. “Successful beyond our wildest imagination.” In seconds, Lauren, company president, can tell you that 5 million teeny, tiny capsules are being gulped down each year.

After all, what good are toned abs and bouncy hair if one has bad breath? (Polling at a local bridal expo, BreathAsure learned that halitosis is one of the top five concerns of betrothed couples).

How do people know if the product works? Well, the Raissens suggest, “You need a spouse or a good friend” to tell you for sure, but the cup-your-hand-and-blow-into-it test is a fair barometer.

Their print and TV ad campaign (budgeted at $6.9 million for July through December) promises “kissing-clean breath” for hours. Naturally, Anthony mentions, it’s no magic bullet for someone “who hasn’t been to the dentist for five years and their teeth are falling out.” Nor will it combat foul breath resulting from medical conditions or treatments.

And those who don’t follow directions, chewing instead of just swallowing two or three capsules after eating an offender like Caesar salad, have complained that BreathAsure tastes “yucky.”

Some have complained, “The stuff doesn’t work.” Still, Lauren says, fewer than 1% of sales are returned on the money-back guarantee. Others say BreathAsure--which is supposed to neutralize odoriferous compounds in the digestive system--changed their sex lives. One testimonial was from a dentist who told of his horror of having Monday morning breath: “Many people fear going to the dentist--even more so if their dentist eats garlic and onions.”

So, could an internal breath freshener for Fluffy and Fido be far behind? Enter PureBreath--same basic formula, adjusted for four-footed metabolism and with carob thrown in for flavor. “We cannot tell a dog not to chew,” explains a representative.

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Parading their pugs and spaniels and poodles and setters past the PureBreath booth at the Kennel Club show, dog lovers seemed intrigued. Their first question: “Is it safe?” After all, these are their babies. Yes, says Anthony: “We’ve tested it on hundreds of animals.”

Can people take PureBreath? others wondered. Well, yes, says Anthony, enjoying his own joke, but: “Just remember--you’ll start looking for trees and following fire trucks.”

One woman complained that her springer spaniel smells “like something died in her mouth.” Maybe, Anthony suggests, something did. “Every day?” she retorts.

A man, picking up a few samples, explains, “I have a Jack Russell and she’s in your face all the time. She’s in bed with you, she’s on top of you”--and, yes, she has dragon’s breath. Two capsules a day, Anthony prescribes.

But has he ever tried to get a cat to swallow a capsule? These are so slippery, he swears, they just slide right down before kitty knows what hit her.

At day’s end, the PureBreath people figure they are onto something big. How big, they don’t know.

Dr. Robert Schwarzmann, a West L.A. veterinarian, is skeptical. He says he gets few complaints about doggy breath and most “are the result of rotten teeth.”

Still, he admits, the concept of PureBreath is “titillating--and if you believe something works, it usually works.”

So where will the Raissens turn next with their “sociable solution” to garlic breath, morning breath, coffee breath, doggy breath. . . ?

Well, Lauren suggests, “There’s lizards and fish and . . .”