I bought white sheets.
If you had gone shopping with me nine, maybe even five years ago, and I was buying sheets, never, even if they were the last ones on the shelf, would I have bought white sheets.
White sheets, white towels, white wash cloths, were simply not practical. They wash the same as any other color I suppose, but growing up, white linens were some sort of unexplained symbol of luxury; decadence I would even go so far to say.
I remember visiting a friend of a friend during high school. We were sleeping over this girls house who made no secret of how much money she had. Not that she went around boasting, but you know how most times you can just tell? Her room was one of the prettiest rooms I had ever seen. It was the perfect combination of girly and chic and she had white sheets and white face towels. I remember it being so hard to imagine waking up every day in a room like that.
Not having a lot of money meant rooms were filled with things that served a solid function. Home decor is not often of top priority and things are bought cheaply so if they get stained or ruined its no real loss to throw them away. Maybe it was for this reason we never had any white linens.
Maybe its a bit far fetched that I feel a sense of accomplishment laying down my first set of white sheets. I’m a senior in college, am I supposed to be so sentimental? I feel like I’m paying back my eight, eleven, and sixteen year old self. Its like saying, “Here, its the least I can do for how far you’ve come.”