All I want is a new comforter for my bed, something in a color that coordinates with the room's decor, a fabric that isn't scratchy, and a price that won't require sacrifice of my firstborn. Is that too much to ask?
Apparently it is. I've been looking at comforters in stores and online for weeks now without finding what I want, and I think the problem is that I want both too much and too little.
Let's handle the "too little" first: seriously, all I want is a comforter. I don't need sheets, a bed skirt, two or five or seven pillow shams, and whatever else is included in the 24-piece comforter sets I've been seeing online. The comforter set I'm looking for will include exactly one piece--a comforter--or, if the color doesn't coordinate with my perfectly good bedskirt, then perhaps two pieces--a comforter and bedskirt. So quit already with the 7-piece or 12-piece or 24-piece comforter sets.
I'm fairly flexible on color as long as it coordinates with the barn-red-and-brown color scheme of the room. In the past we've had comforters that are mostly brown or mostly red with gold accents or black accents or beige accents. I could accept an off-white comforter with the right kinds of accent colors, but I don't need anything purple or lime green or midnight blue. In that room, an eggplant-colored comforter is going to make my eyeballs explode, which doesn't lead to restful sleep. That solid sand-colored comforter I saw certainly felt plush and would coordinate with everything, but when I want to sleep on a vast expanse of something the color of sand, I'll go to the beach.
And can we talk about fabric for a moment? The word comforter suggests a certain level of comfort, but too many of the comforters I've seen have that rough, nubbly texture suggesting recycled plastic bottles. I believe in recycling but I don't want to sleep in the recycling bin, and if I ever want to sleep on something that feels like indoor-outdoor carpeting, I'll take a nap at a Putt-Putt course. Cotton is fine. I don't demand satin or silk, although I wouldn't reject it if it were affordable.
Which takes us to the final point: I'm not spending a thousand dollars on a comforter, or even $500 or $300. We're too rough on bedding to treat it as a luxury purchase--but on the other hand, I don't want to spend $69 on those comforters at Big Lots that are so thin you can read the fine print on your mattress tags through them. I don't need imported goose down hand-stuffed by nuns into a silk duvet cover. Just a regular, ordinary, comforter for everyday use in a house where everything we own eventually ends up looking as if it's been gnawed by rabid wolverines.
But I can't find it--and the search is wearing me out. Maybe that's what the bedding manufacturers are hoping for: keep throwing bizarre and ridiculous and uncomfortable options at shoppers until we're too exhausted to think straight.
If I come home one of these days carting a 24-piece comforter set made of recycled plastic bottles in an eggplant-and-lime-green print, you'll know they've won.