I have lived in Finland for the better part of three years, but I still can’t tell you what one centimeter looks like, let alone 200 of them. This is why I keep a list of measurements of every wall in my apartment and all major pieces of furniture in the Notes app in my cell phone. That way, when the bedding set or curtains I have been eyeing all year finally go on sale, I don’t have to call my husband and ask him for the dimensions of our mattress or the size of our picture window. It’s a matter of efficiency for one thing – and it also helps me avoid a bigger conversation about his tolerance for a gold and gray floral print duvet set with polka dot underside, which is what I was buying most recently when I called up my cheat sheet.
When I brought that duvet set to the register, the woman behind the counter pointed out, quite matter-of-factly, in Finnish, that I was buying the wrong size. I was about to show her my list and verify the packaging when another clerk stepped in.
“You’re not Finnish,” she said, looking me up and down. When I nodded, she looked back to the first clerk as if she had just settled an argument.
“Ah!” the first agreed, switching to English. “OK! You’re not Finnish. You need a big cover!”
“Yes,” I replied, catching on. “I need a big cover.”
She smiled. “In Finland, we only use small covers.”
This is something that I know all too well since my husband is Finnish. Here, couples share a bed like usual, but each person maintains possession of their own twin-sized blanket. It’s a simple difference that seems outrageously incorrect the first time you experience it – like driving on the opposite side of the road or putting butter on a ham sandwich. Just one of those little things that you never thought twice about before that suddenly makes you realize just how many ways there are to skin a cat, or in this case, make a bed.
The blanket issue came up right away for me and Valtteri, well before we were living together. As a single person, he had one small blanket that barely covered the bed – excuse me, futon. After a few nights of wrestling it back and forth, I gave up and dragged the thin black quilt he used to cover his bed during the day from the couch – excuse me, love seat.
He recoiled as though I had just invited a live animal to sleep with us, and not a very cute one at that. “No!” he said. I waited for further details but none came.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because that’s just for the top of the bed!” he insisted, gesturing to his fut-ress in case I didn’t know where it was. “People sit on that with their dirty trousers.”
It was an answer that just prompted more questions: If the top blanket is compromised then isn’t he already transferring that dirt when he covers the bed? How are his trousers getting so filthy anyway? And why can’t he just say pants like a normal person?
But there was no arguing with him. My husband had a top cover that sat all day long on the bed, but was an instant liability after 11 p.m. It left me with no choice but to buy a second twin-sized blanket just for me – and a prettier top cover too.
Over time I’ve come to appreciate Finland’s two-blanket system – but not for the reason most Finns cite, which is because it’s warmer. In fact, it’s quite the opposite: I have the unfortunate condition of being a hot sleeper. After about an hour in bed, I turn into a furnace. If I don’t kick off half the blanket by midnight, then I run the risk of waking up at 2 a.m., feeling like a roast turkey. With the two blanket system I have an extra exit, assuming, of course, that the very cute animal we now allow to sleep in our bed doesn’t block it, which he often does.
What I don’t like about the double blankets is all the lumps and bumps that come along with having two miniature quilts under one larger one. Anyone with a removeable duvet cover can tell you that the blanket itself shifts around and is prone to bunching and clumping. When you have the two-blanket system plus a top cover, you multiply that problem by three. Suddenly I am spending a lot more time than I would care to admit making our bed look presentable.
And yet I do it – flapping and snapping all three covers until they are reasonably smooth. Laying the two child-size blankets side by side. Covering them both with the gold floral duvet that my husband likes more than the purple floral duvet it replaced. Stacking seven throw pillows on top to make the place photoshoot-ready in the unlikely event that a magazine editor drops by and wants to take a picture of a bedroom that isn’t yet equipped with a headboard. It takes a good five minutes, which on most mornings is time I don’t really have or could better spend on something else. But I do it just the same because this is where I live and I’m trying to make the place feel like home, one centimeter at a time.
I did not know this about Finland, and I LOVE IT. The whole world should do this – sharing a blanket with someone is hot garbage, no matter how big it is, haha
lol! yes, i think it’s thing all over europe, really. it was definitely the norm in germany as well. like i said, have come to love it for practical reasons. the appearance of it – not so much. xx
That’s funny. We sleep with a cute animal on our bed, also–one that sheds like crazy. I discovered the thing about duvets almost immediately. Too much work (although there are little plastic pincher things you can use to keep the quilt in place inside, but again, too much work). I use my duvet cover to cover the comforter for Yoda (our dog) purposes, and defur it with a sticky roll ever couple nights until I wash it. The last time I was in Germany, we had to request a matrimonial bed, which allowed my husband and me to sleep together, but after being married for a while, I kind of like the two separate blankets (and beds) idea.
I agree with you – the “solve” for the duvet (those little clips or the ones that tie) are just more work. No thank you. But yes, we all just develop a system that works for us… and our dogs. Oh Germany… sigh. Were the beds actually separate, like on opposite walls, or were they just two small mattresses pushed together? I absolutely hate the latter… and I seem to remember my first apartment there having that set up. Ugh. The memories.
I learned something today. I learned the blanket style I insist upon is the Finnish style (or European, I suppose). All I know is I like my blanket loose so I can cocoon in it and hubby likes his tucked in so you can’t budge. So before marriage even, I was all “get your blankets, I’m not sharing!”
When we had a housekeeper, it drove her wild. She did her best to make our bed traditional style, with hubby’s quilt as a duvet, since we don’t have one.
exactly! very good idea practically speaking, but when it comes to making the bed – very hard to make it look nice. and, yes, indeed you have been a european at heart all these years… at least after 10.
I was so against having separate blankets and then we did and I LOVE it! He has one tiny comforter and I have two comforters and a fleece blanket and no one if fighting over blankets. Both of us have the weight and warmth we prefer. I don’t even bother making the bed anymore. I recommend separate blankets to everyone.
lol. this is like an amazon review. and i mean that in the nicest possible way. i agree though – great system. xx
I live in the US, but have lived abroad enough to know there are other ways. My partner and I work better when we don’t have to compete for bedding, since we sleep very differently and have very different heat situations. We have two twin sheets, twin blankets (if needed) and twin thin comforters. It looks tidy enough on the odd days we make our bed. Everything is dark enough that the seam in the middle blends.
I love the idea of separate blankets. Been together 48 years and just discovered this last year! Now it seems like a no brainer!