Make the Bed Your Way

Let me ask you something. Who decided there was a right way to make a bed?

Because I've been thinking about this, and I'm fairly confident that nobody in ancient Rome was lying awake at night worrying about whether their throw rug was positioned two thirds of the way up the bed or draped at the foot. Did they even have throw rugs? Unlikely. And yet somehow, millennia later, we have designers on Instagram demonstrating — with a completely straight face — the correct and proper way to arrange a throw blanket.

I recently watched someone explain, in all seriousness, that a throw should never sit at the foot of the bed. It belongs two thirds of the way up, they said, tucked under sheets and blankets that are folded halfway down, artfully layered, perfectly styled.

I'm going to be honest with you. I had thoughts.

Who is this bed actually for?

Here's my question for anyone who makes their bed this way: have you ever actually tried to sit on it?

Not everyone has a reading chair in their bedroom. Space doesn't always allow for it. But plenty of us retreat to our rooms during the day for a quiet moment — to read, to think, to breathe, to drown out the noise of the world for twenty minutes. And if your bed is piled with artfully folded blankets and precisely layered throws that are completely inaccessible without dismantling the whole thing, sitting on it is genuinely uncomfortable. Mounds of blanket digging into the back of your legs while you're trying to read is not a vibe. Trust me — I've done it. I've made my bed that way. I hated it.

And throw blankets. Can we talk about throw blankets for a moment? They were not invented to be tucked under folded-down sheets where you cannot reach them. They exist so that when you're cold — but not ready to get into bed — you can reach down, pull one up over your legs, and carry on with your evening. That is their entire purpose. A throw blanket that requires you to unmake your bed to access it is not a throw blanket. It's a prop.

How I actually make my bed.

I make my bed the way my mum and grandmother taught me. Simply, neatly, with hospital corners — and before you say anything, I did try to give up hospital corners once. It went against my DNA. We don't speak of it.

The only thing I do differently to how I grew up is pillows — and yes, I have more of them now. European pillows for sitting up in bed, because they're genuinely useful and not just for show. A sleeping pillow. A second pillow, because a quilt cover comes with two pillowslips and I am not leaving one of them on display looking lonely. And one decorative cushion between the front two, because that's the one concession I make to styling.

At the foot of the bed — yes, the foot — I have a seasonal throw blanket. Draped. Casually. Like I don't love it at all. 😄 It's there because when I sit on my bed to read in the evening I can pull it over my legs without any effort whatsoever. Revolutionary, I know.

I'll let you in on a couple of my bed-making secrets while we're here. My bed is a queen, and like most queens, the quilt never quite reaches far enough down the sides — you end up with sheet and blanket hanging out on both sides looking untidy. Now, you might say: Michelle, just tuck it in. And I could. But my mattress weighs approximately one hundred kilograms — fine, maybe not literally, but it is extremely heavy — and I have bad hands, so having already deployed hospital corners and killed my hands in the process, I am not lifting that mattress again.

What I do instead is this: before the quilt goes on, I lift the excess sheet and blanket on each side and fold it up onto the bed. It makes a triangle. It gets everything up out of sight. The quilt goes on top, everything looks neat and tidy, and my hands are intact. Cheat? Maybe. Genius? Also maybe.

And sometimes — when the mood takes me — I simply throw the throw blanket diagonally across the bed and leave it exactly where it lands. Intentionally imperfect. It gives the room that lived-in feeling that says the bed is looked after but the room isn't precious. If you sit on it later and wrinkle the quilt a little, it doesn't matter. The throw's already been thrown.

Make the damn bed your way.

I have made my bed a million different ways over the years. I always come back to simple, cosy, and accessible. Because here's the truth that no Instagram reel will ever show you: when you're throwing up at 2am with a gastro bug, you will not be thinking about whether your throw blanket is styled correctly. But you will absolutely be grateful that your bed is comfortable and easy to get into.

Display homes need to be staged. Styled shoots need to be dressed. I understand that completely — I've done it, and I know exactly why it works in that context.

But for everyday life? In the home you actually live in, sleep in, retreat to, recover in?

Make the damn bed your way. 🤍