New linen disappoints people, and it is supposed to. Out of the packet it is stiff, papery, creased in a way that looks like a mistake rather than a texture. The fifth wash is where it starts telling the truth. Stonewashed flax softens with every cycle, the fibres relaxing into the heavy drape that no amount of finishing can fake, and somewhere around the twentieth wash you own a different textile — cool in summer, warm enough in winter, rumpled in the specific way that reads as ease.
This trajectory is the opposite of nearly everything else in the linen cupboard. Cotton percale peaks early and thins; blends pill and grey. Flax fibre is simply stronger — measurably more durable than cotton — which is why linen sheets from decades ago still circulate through flea markets in usable condition. The care instructions turn out to be liberations: no ironing, because the crease is the look; low-heat washing; line drying if you have the line. It is the rare textile whose maintenance schedule is do less.
The price asks for context. Good linen bedding costs two or three times its cotton equivalent — €150 to €250 for a duvet cover — and then refuses to need replacing. Divided over fifteen years of nightly use, it is among the cheapest fabric in the house. Buy it once, in white or undyed flax, from a weight of at least 160 grams per square metre. Then wash it without fear. Every cycle is an improvement, which is a strange and pleasing thing to say about anything.