S l e e p e r

Buying a Mattress? Read This

It is a fact that buying a mattress is a weird and perilous quest, with salespeople primed to talk you into the fanciest model, pamphlets and videos on "sleep numbers," back pain, night sweats, NASA research, the evil of innersprings, the greatness of innersprings, and obscure fibers from high-tech to low (hand-combed horsehair, say). But wait, don't hide under your leaden futon. Let me brush off the dust bunnies and offer a little perspective:

1. If you're like many people, you've waited till your mattress is ancient to replace it. That means your back hurts, your neck hurts, and you're a sad and pitiful grouch. Mattress salespeople love this. You're vulnerable, so you'll listen to their pitch. You're depressed; they'll love to hear your story! They want to be your friend, or even better, your savior. The more impatient you are to get some sleep, the faster you'll hand over your credit card. It's not that there aren't great mattresses out there, but you shouldn't feel pressured to buy the first one you lie down on. Visit a few stores, try beds of all prices, take notes, and consult Sleeper's totally objective mattress reviews.*

2. Your boyfriend's aunt bought a $12,000 bed and swears it cured her sciatica. That is really good news for her. Was she sleeping on a cheap twenty-year-old mattress beforehand? Could be that any number of beds would have helped her back. Yes yes, try the mattress your relative is raving about, and try others, too. (You know how when someone buys a really expensive thing, they sometimes try to talk you into getting it too so they feel better about their decision?)

3. Many department-store sales floors are not staffed by store employees but by mattress makers' reps. That means in the Serta area, the person will try to talk you into a Serta, and in the Simmons corner, same story. What you want, really, is someone who can show you a lot of different mattresses and compare them more objectively. Seek out independent shops. Long's Bedding in Manhattan is a good one.

4. Know that pillowtop mattresses have a shorter lifespan than regular mattresses. It's because you can't flip them, and the pillow wears out before the rest of the bed. If you like a soft top, consider a featherbed or mattress topper you can replace (the one exception being memory-foam pads; in my experience they're a poor simulation of the real thing.) This is not to say I haven't been seduced by pillowtop beds.

5. How much should you spend on a bed? I feel strongly that no one needs to spend $60,000. I've found that beds under $500 of the 1-800-Mattress variety are really disappointing. People say good things about IKEA mattresses. Our bed (an Englander latex) cost around $1,200. There's no real answer, of course. Sleep around as much as possible — we bought our mattress after sleeping the weekend on one at a friend's house. Trust the way the bed feels to you, not the brand name.

* I don't work for anyone in the industry. Why do I do this? I love sleep. And well-made, useful things.

The Best Bedside Lamps

This is a luscious, content-full site, not a catablog. I strongly believe you don't have to go buy a lot of new things in pursuit of superior sleep. But I am delighted finally to feature bedside lamps, because I get a lot of questions about them, and, truly, a good bedside lamp is hard to find. It's got to be ample, but not too large — you want nightstand real estate for your books — and pleasing to look at. After all, it's the last thing you lay your eyes on at night.

Here are some lamps I'm loving:

The Flowerpot Lamp, blooming right out of 1969, when Verner Panton designed it. It's so absolutely cheerful, it will light your way through all those dreary cases you're reading for the bar exam. Not that that's good bedside reading... but when you make partner, you won't feel bad about having paid $367 for it at the current sad exchange rate. It's also quite heavy and substantial despite its whimsical appearance.

The Lytegem Lamp: similar in mood to the Flowerpot, but can be wall mounted. If you have a toddler, or you're very nearsighted and tend to flail madly for your glasses, or you're just clumsy, or, why am I going on about this, if you like an absolutely clear surface next to your bed — which in itself is a sleep aid — this one is perfect, and at $125, a good value. Well, nearly perfect: you should switch out the dark cord for a white one if you have a white wall.

Self-assembly: Find a base you like, for instance this slim, handsome model from The Conran Shop (about $60). Toss the boring shade. Trust your imagination. Have a quick hunt on eBay, or find a shade in an online shop. Remember the one you saw in the window of that antiques shop last weekend? (This shade is one of a pair from an East Village thrift shop.)

Tube Top: A good choice if, again, you have that toddler, who might knock the lamp down; it's lightweight acrylic and indestructible. Brooklyn designer Peter Stathis designed Tube Top after a moment of inspiration looking at a pair of kitchen tongs. Nice that it has a dimmer switch, too. I like proportions of the medium size ($198, 21" high) more than the small ($98), but the small does come in all those great colors, like sun yellow. Actually, the clear version is most attractive. I'm sure the reason you don't see it in shelter magazines is because it doesn't photograph well.

Ballroom Glitz: I've about had it with Palm Beach (not really, but you have to admit it's overexposed) and post-post-Victorian eclecticism (since the world stole it from my mother, who invented it in 1963), but I am awfully fond of this lamp, which takes itself seriously, but not too, and has an airy little price ($88). If it starts to look silly, just put it on Craigslist, darling!

Eastwood Short Tree Trunk Table Lamp: I often find myself wondering why birds, deer, and antlers continue to persist in interiors now. At any rate, I realize I'm not ready to give up my woodlands obsession. This lamp ($350) has wit and dignity both, and it will still look good when all those cheap antler-y things don't anymore. Which is, you know, now.

Anglepoise: You can't afford a refurbished 1940 George Carwardine original, like this one from Ruby Beets? Look into the Counterpoise ($329) at Restoration Hardware. The wall-mounted version ($499) is nifty.

Signal Lamp: If you elect not to get an Anglepoise on account of the fact that the Soft Boys wanted to be one in 1976, for crying out loud, content yourself with this shy yet saucy French number from Conran's (unfortunately the price in British pounds is too depressing to convert — I'm just heading to bed).