I just caught myself talking to my sheet. “You are so beautiful,” I whispered as I lovingly tried to fold it. I’ve never quite gotten the hang of folding fitted sheets. They’re very unruly.
But this sheet.
Oh this sheet.
I dreamed of this sheet for years before I bought it today. Linen, real linen. Heirloom linen. In the most divine yeallo. They call it maize; I call it lemon souffle, buttercream, soft sunshine after a wild rain. These Bellanotte linen sheets are like sleeping on clouds, or what I imagine it would be like to sleep on one. I want to roll in them, roll on them, be caressed by them. The texture, the softness, the beauty. Come to me, my little lemon cream puff, I’m yours!
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