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Sweet dreams are made of this
Coming from an Oscar winning actress accustomed
to the most chi-chi establishments, Emma Thompson's
eulogy after a night at the Savoy was praise indeed.
The bed, she gushed, was "like sleeping on
a cloud". She promptly bought an identical
cumulus.
Having previously been plagued by insomnia, Thompson
declared her money well spent; she had not suffered
a sleepless night since making her purchase.
Liza Minnelli, the Aga Khan's family and the Rothschilds
have all been similarly taken with the Savoy's
beds. King Hussan of Morocco was so rested after
a night at Claridge's - part of the Savoy Group
- that he furnished his palace with 24 bespoke
beds. Minnelli, meanwhile, opted for the 6ft 6in
square American king-size, made to order by Savoir
Beds, based in West London, which has supplied
the Savoy since 1905.
Alistair Hughes, director of the company, says
that the secret of a Savoir bed lies in its soft
-but-firm mattress, containing 864 pocketed springs,
cotton, fleece and plenty of horsehair. More important
still is the divan or base, in which heavy -gauge
springs are lashed together for added stability.
The mattresses come in standard or firm versions,
but for a generation accustomed to sleeping on
vogueish wooden slatted pine beds, it is the support
of a well sprung divan that makes for a truly
nocturnal revelation.
The only proper way to test a bed according to
Mr Hughes, is to sleep in it, so I took myself
off to the Capital Hotel in Knightsbridge - another
client with cumuli. As bed-testers go, I am perfect
material; I am a featherlight sleeper with permanently
pricked ears; better still, I am a fussy, fractious
Princess-and-the-pea sleeper who can detect a
lump in the mattress before my legs have so much
as swung off the carpet. In hotels, I seldom sleep
a wink. Evan a cloud, then, seemed unlikely to
soothe my egregiously restless slumber.
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The bed was a generous 6ft wide and a yielding-but-firm
sort of affair. I suspect that Emma Thompson
had a softer model than mine; for if she
bedded down on a cloud, I can liken my experience
only to being draped across an enormous,
well-toned pectoral.
There was give, but not too much; there
was take, but not to excess. It was slightly
bouncy but taut; springy but supportive;
and above all, gloriously, narcoleptically
comfortable. Feeling cosseted and blissfully
free of Corby trouser press distractions,
I drifted into sleep lying straight across
the bed. I was astounded by the quality
of my night's sleep ...
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