I had no idea so much was riding on my mattress.
That is, until the down comforter on our bed sprang a leak.
Each morning we awake anew in a drift of feathers. There’s either a hole somewhere, or my husband has a pet goose he is, quite literally, keeping under cover.
Bedded bliss. Fortunately, even with Martha Stewart firmly incarcerated, I don’t have to go it alone when it comes to redressing my bed.
No, when it comes to hunting and gathering the decade’s next blanket for our boudoir, I need look no farther than the learned minds on a variety of decorating magazines and television programs for guidance.
I had no idea, until I headed out in search of a new bedspread and was quickly (and rather derisively I might add) set straight that what I was seeking was “bedding,” that making the bed was making such a comeback.
Staged. Sadly, the bed has fallen victim to the “stage setting” of the American home.
In this affliction form triumphs over function and the goal is to create a scene that suggests that no one actually lives there at all.
Yes, the once lowly bed has been promoted from a practical means of avoiding having to sleep on the floor, to the focus of an entire decorating genre.
Suffice it to say that in our era of home styling, if the kitchen is the heart of the home, then the bedroom is, at the very least, the left ventricle.
Maybe an artery even.
Clearly, with the bed so important, it is imperative that I not only replace my molting bedspread, but get myself up to speed on modern pillow talk.
So, before I unduly embarrass myself, I had to set out to discover, once and for all, what in the world is a European neck roll?
Is a duvet something you buy or something you do? Build? Cure? Eat with a dusting of sugar and a nice raspberry mousse?
Does a dust ruffle dust daily, weekly, or weekends?
More importantly, does it do windows?
Pillow talk. Stumbling, dizzy with dread, into a local bedding boutique, I was soon set straight.
“The sheets, of course, are your basic 2500 count Egyptian cotton hand spun by Tibetan monks.
Next we have a paper thin, 100 percent cotton blanket.
Then, you tuck, fold, tuck and again fold everything in – taking care, of course, that you are not tucking (or crimping, bending or folding) the dust ruffle in any way.
Now it is time to put down what would have been called a spread when we were young and oh-so naive, but is now known by the proper name: a matelasse.
This just skims the top of the dust ruffle, showcasing that in all its glory. Now you put your comforter on, unless, of course, if it is summer and you want your matelasse to show. In that case the comforter is folded at the end of the bed and
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