The Impact Of Business

By SARA RUFFIN COSTELLO

Paul Costello (Interior); F. Martin Ramin for The Wall Street Journal, Styling by Anne Cardenas (Bedding)

DOSE OF DOILY | A lace-y bedspread offers the right amount of frill in fashion designer Miguelina Gambaccini’s bedroom.

You are what you sleep on. Preppies share a fascination with D. Porthault patterned sheets, while bohemian free spirits worship John Robshaw’s batik bedding. Tony uptown types prefer their linens monogrammed from Léron or Leontine.

I usually fall somewhere between puritan and gypsy, gravitating toward crisp white sheets from Olatz paired with a little noisy exotica like a suzani coverlet. This season, though, I’ve been leaning hard into my 18th-century European grande dame side, working my new favorite bedding upgrade: lace-trimmed sheets.

Historically, hand-sewn sheets were serious business. Embroidered and monogrammed linens, considered a cornerstone of any lavish trousseau, would help to secure a well-heeled husband. Sets of sheets—roughly 12 for a wealthy family and six for a middle class one—would be worked on for years, said Robin Molbert, owner of antique linen and lace purveyor Fleur d’Andeol. “Linens were a huge part of family life from the 16th century until the early 20th century, especially in Europe, where a good piece of handmade lace was often worth the price of a château,” Ms. Molbert added. Up until the 1950s, trousseaus were still being passed down from mother to daughter.

“Sheets and shams with a spot of something delicate are exactly what a room full of sleekness needs.”

I inherited a fine set of lace-edged pillow shams that sat in deep-drawer exile for years. While I appreciated the bespoke craftsmanship, actually making a bed with all that frill seemed too far off baseline—suggesting I might have a secret passion for Victorian dolls (sublime in some freaky places, just not my own).

The lacy shams were liberated when, at the 11th hour on a photo shoot for an interiors magazine, a touch of granny was required. The room in question had a sleek platform bed, two boxy iron bedside tables with task lights, a 1930s chest of drawers and a giant antique French mirror leaning against the wall. The pieces were working individually—proportion, shape and height all in harmony—but the room looked unbalanced. The gold-leaf mirror with baroque carvings had no one to talk to. In a flash I jumped on the subway back to my apartment and dug through drawers looking for the solution. The banished lace pillowcases! As soon as they were on the bed, the photographer and I sensed triumph.

Lately I have been pairing a bit of lace with everything from rugged French industrial moving blankets to prettily patterned Peruvian bedspreads. Sheets and shams with a spot of something delicate—lace, crochet or embroidery—are exactly what a room full of sleekness needs. However, overdoing it, especially on the bed, with too much all at once, can tip the look into “Pretty Baby” boudoir bordello territory. Like everything else in life, enjoy your lace in moderation.

—Ms. Ruffin Costello is a writer and design consultant based in New Orleans.