Aside from levitating beds for the ultra‑rich, the world of 10 weird beds hasn’t seen a great deal of innovation in recent centuries. While the basic idea of a horizontal platform to lie on remains unchanged, the ways people have tried to make that platform more interesting—or simply more practical—are anything but boring. Below, we explore ten truly odd designs that history somehow left behind.
10 Weird Beds: A Journey Through Unusual Sleepcraft
10 The Great Bed of Ware
The Great Bed of Ware earned its place in pop culture, even earning a shout‑out from Shakespeare and Jonson. In Twelfth Night, Sir Toby Belch boasts that a sheet of paper is “big enough for the [Great] Bed of Ware.” Crafted around 1590, this colossal four‑poster measures over three metres in width, easily fitting more than four couples, and stands at a towering 2.67 metres—taller than many modern bedrooms.
Named for the town of Ware in Hertfordshire, a convenient stop‑off between Cambridge and London, the bed became a favorite resting spot for travelers who would carve their initials or seal wax onto its wood. Today it resides at London’s V&A, showcasing exquisite Elizabethan craftsmanship with Renaissance motifs such as acanthus leaves, lions, satyrs, and painted figures. The graffiti left by centuries of sleepers only adds to its allure.
Over the years the bed changed hands several times, residing in five different inns before ending up in a fortified manor. It faded from public view until 1931 when the V&A purchased it for £4,000—equivalent to roughly £340,000 today—making it the museum’s most expensive furniture acquisition. In 2012 it was loaned back to Ware for a year, an operation that required the aid of massive cranes.
9 The Box Bed
The box bed, also known as a lit clos, resembled a wooden cupboard with a hidden mattress inside and was a staple of European sleeping arrangements for roughly six centuries. Its primary purpose was to give sleepers privacy and warmth in cramped, single‑room homes, while also shielding them from wild animals—wolves, bears, and the occasional wandering livestock—hence the possible origin of the phrase “counting sheep.”
Throughout the Middle Ages to the 1800s, the box bed evolved from simple wooden crates to true works of art, featuring elaborate carvings, painted panels, and even sliding doors. Some versions included curtains for added privacy, while others prioritized safety with sturdy doors. Most were raised off the ground, providing valuable storage space underneath.
8 Dr. Graham’s Celestial Bed
Scottish‑born eccentric James Graham never completed medical school, yet he styled himself as a doctor and became fascinated with electricity after five years in America, inspired by Benjamin Franklin’s lightning rods. In 1780 he opened the Temple of Health on London’s Adelphi Terrace, where visitors were greeted by scented air, mood lighting, and spectacular electrical displays—including sparks from Leyden jars and a massive phallic conductor flanked by semi‑globe electrodes.
The centerpiece, however, was the Celestial Bed: a three‑metre‑wide, four‑metre‑long marvel surrounded by magnets, stallion tail hair, oats, and ambient music. Above the couple lay a giant mirror, while the headboard bore the biblical command, “Be fruitful. Multiply and Replenish the Earth.” Couples paid between 50 guineas and 100 pounds per night for the experience. Though initially successful, the venture collapsed under debt, prompting Graham to flee to Edinburgh, serve a brief jail term for indecency, and later market mud baths as the secret to immortality.
7 Thomas Jefferson’s Alcove Bed
Thomas Jefferson’s alcove bed at Monticello was literally built into the wall, straddling his bedroom and study. This clever placement gave him swift access to both rooms, supporting his disciplined routine of early rising and early retiring.
Beyond convenience, the design also allowed Jefferson to slip between his personal and professional spaces without the need to fully exit his sleeping quarters—a practical solution for a man constantly juggling political duties and scholarly pursuits.
Tragically, this very bed was where Jefferson spent his final moments on July 4, 1826, exactly fifty years after the adoption of the Declaration of Independence.
6 Self‑Making Bed
The notion of a self‑making bed surfaced in several patents, the most audacious from the 1980s. This design employed a series of arms and rollers mounted on the frame, using rotating wheels and helical screw rollers to stretch and flatten covers from the centre outward, moving from foot to head to smooth the sheets.
Powered by an electric motor linked to a drive shaft, the mechanism was engineered to return to its starting point without disturbing the freshly smoothed bedding. Whether the bed ever entered production remains unclear, but the concept sparked imaginations about automating one of the most tedious nightly chores.
Modern analogues exist: Smartduvet’s inflatable layer, positioned just beneath the cover, gently lifts and flattens wrinkles, offering a contemporary take on the self‑making dream.
5 Two‑Penny Hangover
During England’s 19th‑century industrial boom, a surge in urban homelessness prompted charitable organisations to devise simple sleeping solutions. One such answer was the “two‑penny hangover,” a communal arrangement where destitute individuals paid two pence to perch on a bench and lean over a rope stretched across a room.
While the setup offered indoor shelter and a degree of security, comfort was minimal. Sleepers were packed together, and at dawn the rope was simply dropped to the floor, jolting everyone awake and ushering them out. Some historians suggest this practice may have contributed to the modern usage of “hangover” to describe post‑drinking malaise. (Interestingly, the phrase “sleep tight” originates from medieval rope beds that needed tightening for support.)
4 Piano Bed
In 19th‑ and early‑20th‑century America, the piano was a status symbol, even for households that never intended to play one. The instrument’s considerable footprint inspired designers to merge it with a bed, creating a visual illusion of a piano that concealed a fold‑out sleeping platform.
Smith & Co.’s 1885 “Convertible Bed in Form of Upright Piano” featured a wooden frame that could be unfolded into a bed, though it lacked any actual hammers or strings. Earlier, in 1869, John McDonald patented a “keyboard musical instrument … that … may be opened up to serve as a bed and which, when closed, shall have every appearance of and may in fact be a real instrument,” highlighting the era’s fascination with multifunctional furniture.
3 Rotating Bed
Imagine a bed that spins like a giant lazy Susan. Introduced in 1968, the rotating bed—designed by Luigi Massoni—featured a circular mattress mounted on a wheeled base that could turn in either direction, offering a playful twist on the traditional sleeping experience.
The design captured the imagination of the elite, finding a place in Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Mansion where it served as a centerpiece, complete with a built‑in telephone and stereo system, embodying the decadent lifestyle of the era.
Although modern manufacturers occasionally produce rotating models, the concept remains a nostalgic novelty, a reminder of a time when designers dared to make bedtime a spectacle.
2 Arcuccio Co‑Sleeper
Parents of newborns have long struggled with sleep deprivation, and the 17th‑century Arcuccio co‑sleeper was a creative solution. This wooden cradle was designed to sit directly on the adult’s bed, featuring a cut‑out that allowed a mother to breastfeed without leaving the comfort of her own mattress, while also keeping the infant safely away from the mother’s body and bedding to reduce suffocation risk.
In Florence, the co‑sleeper became so ubiquitous that its use was practically mandatory, reflecting the city’s commitment to innovative infant care. The design offered both convenience for the caregiver and a secure sleeping environment for the baby.
Its legacy endures as a testament to early modern ingenuity in addressing the timeless challenge of parental sleep.
1 Baby Cage
Patents for window‑suspended cribs, essentially baby cages, appeared frequently in the early 20th century. One 1919 patent emerged after a leading pediatrician claimed that children who slept outdoors grew stronger, prompting urban families to attach a bird‑cage‑like crib to their apartment windows.
Eleanor Roosevelt famously embraced the baby cage, only to face backlash from neighbours who threatened to report her for endangering her child. She later described the experience as a shocking revelation, realizing she had believed she was a “most modern mother.”
Also known as a “health cage” or “window crib,” the concept never achieved lasting popularity, fading from modern child‑care practices.