If you've ever been to my salon, you'll know I'm not afraid of MORE. Bright colours, collectables, products. Surrounding ourselves with lots of things that we love. Decorating our spaces til they struggle to breathe. In a salon, this isn't a problem, it provides a fun and varied stimulating environment. Stuff to look at, energy to everyone in it. However, at home, I've started to realise the power of LESS.
Don't get me wrong, I've read Marie Kondo, and I've decluttered. I've never made the full switch to minimalist; I still own too many clothes that don't spark joy, and I still like trinkets. But I've definitely made the jump to plain bedsheets.
I used to love the idea of fun novelty prints, I see people get excited about the festive duvet offering from a certain supermarket. However, I've started to understand why fancy hotels go for white. They seem cripser, and cleaner, despite neither of those being impacted by colour or print. I had one of those moments of feeling like a proper grown-up when I bought my first plain (boring?) white sheets last year, but as soon as I got them, I was converted.
In a practical sense, having light and bright bedding makes a room seem bigger, and I'm currently blessed with a huge bedroom, so that's a win. In a less scientific sense, I've found that they just make me feel more 'clear' and 'free'. Somehow more zen. Or something.
I'm not alone here, right? Crisp white sheets feel more adult and provide optimal chill-zone, right? Is this what happens when you edge towards middle age? You will only tolerate decent wine, you're happy to get home by 11pm, and you want white bedding?
*Sponsored post from JD Williams, and model is my foster cat Bronwyn.*