Recently, I returned to my childhood home in Southern California for an extended stay — which meant sleeping in my childhood bedroom. The space itself is fine (redesigned by yours truly in my late teens), but one detail quickly became a problem. By night one, it was annoying. By night three, it was impossible to ignore: the bedding. I hated it.
Temperature-regulating? Not remotely. Fluffy? Absolutely not. Seventeen-year-old Julia had clearly never heard of performance fabrics — or, apparently, comfort. And to be fair, she hadn’t yet become a style editor inundated with the best bedding brands, either.
