The things you choose to keep next to your bed are often indicative of who you are as a person — or at least how you want to be seen by anyone who looks at your Instagram Story. A stack of books, organised by colour with the spines facing out like a who's who of the New York Times bestsellers, sends one message; luxe facial oil and a Byredo Burning Rose candle sends another. The message my bedside table sends is very simple: I just want to go to sleep.
On my nightstand, you will find a shrine of sorts, a ritual offering to my own broken circadian clock. It is stocked with solutions both homeopathic and pharmaceutical, some that are proven to work and others that aren't but that I keep using anyway because I'm afraid of what will happen if I stop. (Of course, the worst thing that could happen is that I, a lifelong insomniac, will not be able to sleep.) And then there is the pièce de résistance, a physical symbol of resistance against my overactive brain and admittedly poor sleep hygiene: the silk sleep mask from Slip.
Nobody, myself included, really needs a £45 eye mask constructed of the highest grade, 100% pure mulberry silk, an eye mask that is not just silk on the outside but also lined with silk on the inside because if you're going to go for it you might as well go all the way. But if the average human sleeps for eight hours every night, that's one-third of each day, and that comes out to one-third of their entire lifetime — then the expense is worth it.
I might not be getting my doctor-recommended eight hours to hit those numbers exactly, so we'll see what kind of fraction I clock at the end of it all. But for what it's worth, I'd like to be buried in this thing. Just make sure I'm actually a goner first: Once I'm out, I sleep like the dead, and nobody wants to be buried alive. Not even in a silk eye mask... as tragic and glamorous as that might be.