What Makes a Bed Comfortable? It Depends on Where You’re From

How do you approach your sofa—do you like to sit on it, leaning against a reassuringly supportive backrest? Or do you sit in it, sinking into the soft cushions, enveloped in bliss? The answer may well depend on where you live, because culture plays a surprisingly large role in determining not just what we consider appealing, but also, what we think of as comfortable.

As a born and bred European, I’m far more willing to live with my gorgeous yet very uncomfortable midcentury-modern office sofa than my American partner, Luke. After 13 years in the U.K., Luke has concluded that Europeans sit on the sofa, while Americans sit in the sofa, due to "a huge difference in the baseline expectation of comfort." At first I thought he was exaggerating—don’t we all want to be comfortable? But then we went to Las Vegas and slept in a hotel bed made of marshmallows and angels, and I understood that our continents are not the same. While I enjoyed sleeping on a cloud for a few days, I won’t be changing the firm mattress I have at home in London—I honestly prefer it. Super-fluff soon becomes overwhelming, and on a daily basis I want something I can only describe as more "moderate."

Hard mattresses were one of the first culture shocks awaiting Helene Sula, a travel influencer from Texas, when she moved to Europe—she bought more than one mattress topper as she moved around the continent. But British pillows had her stumped: "We tried a bunch of different pillows in the U.K.—cheaper ones, more expensive ones. It seems people there seem to prefer less stuffing?" says Sula, who ended up bringing over American pillows. "Sleep is really important, and you know what you know!" Sula, who’s currently in France, has also imported American ice trays, "because European ice trays don’t crack correctly" and as most Americans will tell you, "having a super cold drink is delightful."

To Luke, constant access to cold drinks is so important that he convinced me that we should get a drinks fridge in our bedroom—a premise so outrageous to my European soul that I first thought I was being punked. But I’m with the Americans on this one now—it’s so luxurious, and I love it. However, the rest of our bedroom is distinctively European, and Luke’s sister Bethany almost keeled over from shock when she learned her middle aged brother sleeps in a queen bed, where we watch TV on a laptop. "I know students who live better than you!" said Bethany, whose bed in her Seattle home can be raised to the perfect sitting position to watch her mounted flatscreen. But in the U.K., a U.S. queen is a standard choice of bed. (It’s notable that the size is called a king over here, possibly to make us feel better.)

It’s not just the British—the idea that comfort is a "bourgeois" aspiration can be found all over Europe.

Everything is bigger in America—research suggests that American homes are 600 to 800 square feet bigger than in most other countries—so there’s simply more space to fill with bigger, plusher beds and sofas. While you can buy the same furniture in Ikea stores in Miami as in Stockholm, the Swedish home goods company has certainly found that we like different things. "In the U.S., comfort is often about scale and softness. Many customers prefer larger sofas and generous lounge seating that accommodate family gatherings and relaxed living," says Yuki Murata, commercial PR leader at Ingka Group, which operates the majority of Ikea stores. "In Europe, especially in big cities...there’s strong demand for smart storage solutions, especially those that help make the most of smaller rooms and shared spaces."

Europeans don’t sit around moping on our tiny furniture—it’s just normal to us, and a lot of people genuinely prefer it. For Rachel Watson, a lactation consultant who’s just returned to England after 17 years in San Francisco, there’s definitely such a thing as too soft when it comes to sofas. "Great mountains of stuffing and cushions are not very inviting. I don’t think it’s very comfortable for a social area," she says. It just feels a bit too informal, she suggests. "You end up really squashed together, whether you want to or not. Maybe it’s because we’re British, that we like to keep a little bit of distance with a firmer sofa?" Watson laughs. "It’s really not my idea of comfort, to be squished in with the kids and the dog. I’d rather have [a sofa] that’s nice and supportive, and that looks aesthetically pleasing."

For Watson comfort is about other things, like a nice cup of tea. "In the U.S., people make tea by putting hot water in the microwave!" Appalled, she bought a hot water dispenser so she could do things properly, by making loose leaf tea that’s brewed in a ceramic tea pot. Although now that Watson is back in Yorkshire there’s one American habit she’s brought back with her: the giant fridge-freezer. "How do people here live with such small fridges?"

As Helene Sula expects to return to the U.S. in the future, life in Europe has inspired her to consider American cities more in terms of walkability and street life. "The public spaces here are so welcoming," says Sula, who’s noticed that Europeans tend to socialize more in public, in part due to their smaller homes. But while she’s loved living in cities with great public transport, the train often takes longer than driving: "Convenience is a core American value, and Europeans are more used to things not being as convenient," she says. "[At restaurants] we prioritize comfort in terms of the seating and the experience, while I feel like comfort in Europe is more about time, to be able to relax and enjoy a meal and not feel rushed."

When you’re not expecting things to be so streamlined, you don’t get as annoyed when it’s not—the stereotypical Karen who asks to see the manager is definitely an American. An European may be more willing to just go along in order not to cause a fuss, rationalizing to ourselves that enduring a little discomfort builds character. After all, a quintessential British attitude is to "make do and mend."

Historically, forgoing domestic conveniences has even been seen as aspirational. In her book The Making of Home, historian Judith Flanders describes how in the 1800s, the British middle classes would emulate the rich by rejecting modern comforts such as efficient heating and better lamps. But while the upper classes had servants to tend to their old-fashioned fireplaces and oil lamps, regular folks just ended up shivering in the dark, proud to have rejected such "vulgar" comforts.

It’s not just the British—the idea that comfort is a "bourgeois" aspiration can be found all over Europe. Flanders cites the German philosopher Walter Benjamin, who had strong opinions about upholstery: "A man has two choices, [Benjamin] suggested. He can sit on a sofa, and leave the impression of his behind on the cushion. Or he can live in the city, the streets, and leave his impression on history." That’s certainly one way to make yourself feel better about your tiny living room.

For my partner Luke, moving to London has certainly been a downgrade in terms of space. "I put a lot of heart into the house we had in Seattle. We took it down to the studs, changed the room plan and rebuilt it to be very functional for our family. We always had friends and family coming over, and we hosted 40 people for Thanksgiving. I loved that house," says Luke. The move to England wasn’t meant to be permanent, until it was. And now he’s here, in our narrow Victorian terrace with an aging living room sofa that bows in the middle—it’s a sofa to sit on, not in, for sure. "There’s something very American about having a sofa like this—perfectly adequate and in its serviceable life—and getting rid of it just to get one that’s more comfortable," says Luke. "I think by now I’m just culturally British enough to grit my teeth and get along with a suboptimal sofa."

Luke’s still an American at heart, doomed to be forever frustrated by insufficiently chilled drinks in cute European sidewalk restaurants where the chairs don’t have backs. But he’s come around to enjoying simpler living: "In America, your house and your car are really tied up in your sense of where you fit in society," says Luke. "Living in Europe has freed me from feeling like I need to accomplish certain milestones to feel like I’ve made it." But in our home, the American dream is still very much alive, felt in the hum of a bedroom fridge with a constant supply of ice cold comfort.

Illustration by Felix Dominguez.

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