During the pandemic, I learned a hard lesson: My up-to-that-point reliable IKEA bed frame wasn’t cut out for a good mattress. This lesson came in the middle of the night as my partner and I were woken up by a crack and a sudden downward jolt.
I lived in the Bay Area at the time, so we spent a confusing and terrifying few seconds wondering if the Big One had finally hit before I figured out what had actually happened. The metal beam running down the center of the frame had torn away from the foot of the bed, dropping several inches to the floor, which took the mattress and the two of us with it.
A bit of 2:30 a.m. drill-wielding temporarily fixed the problem, but I knew that it was only a short-term solution at best. IKEA frames are built for IKEA mattresses, and my new-ish mattress was far heavier. It was time to find something a little more grown-up and hopefully more durable.
Like any typical millennial, I’d been bombarded by advertisements for the Thuma Classic Bed, a wood frame bed that purports to be easy to assemble by interlocking together via joinery rather than screws, bolts, and dowels. It looked very modern and very inviting, and after doing some searching, I found that Wirecutter even recommends it. So I bought it expecting to find a pretty good piece of solid-wood furniture.
What I got was a bed frame I can’t seem to shut up about.
Top pick
This bed is dead simple to assemble—it takes one person just a few minutes and requires no tools. Thanks to its sturdy construction, it can support more weight, up to 1,500 pounds, than any other bed we tried, and Thuma offers a lifetime warranty.
The Thuma Classic Bed arrived in a few boxes, which, while heavy, were definitely some of the easier furniture packages I’ve manhandled up a couple of flights of stairs. Once I got them into my apartment, it took me longer to unpack and arrange the pieces than it did to assemble the frame itself. And, as the writers of our modern bed frames guide observed, putting it together was almost fun.
I was immediately struck by how attractive it all was when assembled. The Thuma Classic Bed is elegant and minimal, but it’s also high enough off the floor to store things under it or for my two cats to comfortably lounge for most of the day.
But I learned my favorite thing about it as soon as I dropped my very heavy mattress on top of it.
It didn’t move at all. I was shocked, and, my curiosity getting the better of me, I flopped onto the placed mattress to find that once again, the Thuma sat undisturbed, unmoving, unflinching. I rolled over and sat up, and the Thuma Classic Bed had zero protests. No noise. No scooching. Nothing.
I’ve slept in dozens of hotel beds, Airbnb beds, guest beds, and the beds of people I’ve house-sat for, and none of them were as stable and silent as the Thuma bed was and has continued to be in the nearly four years I’ve owned it.
Flopping onto my bed after a particularly annoying day is a consistent activity, as is suddenly bolting out of it when one of my cats is making disconcerting noises. The ability to do so without feeling like I’m going to break the frame or disturb my sleeping partner has been a luxury I didn’t realize I was looking for.
All of that said, I was initially hesitant to buy the Thuma Classic Bed (or any new bed frame at all), because I was in the midst of considering a cross-country move. Moving is annoying (and expensive) for many reasons, and moving furniture is right near the top of the list. Bed frames are, in my experience, uniquely fragile, hazardous, and rage-inducing.
But just as easily as the Thuma came together, it came apart. It disassembled quickly, and with some blankets and packing tape, it was safely bundled up for the movers to take it away. A month later, when it arrived at my new apartment on the other side of the country, the lone mover offered to help me assemble it, and he was almost confused when we were done in just a couple of minutes.
There was just one tiny problem, which I noticed only after the mover had left. The frame wasn’t quite where I wanted it, which brings me to the main red flag I have to wave for the Thuma Classic Bed. It’s easy to move with, but moving it in a room is an entirely different story.
This bed is heavy, especially with a mattress on it, but more importantly, you can’t lift most parts of it without the possibility of pulling it apart. This means the ways you might move other heavy furniture—such as lifting some of the legs to pivot it—just doesn’t work. The Thuma bed is determined to be where it is in my space, and I just have to live with that, unless I want to take the very heavy mattress off and carefully drag the frame to where I’d prefer it.
There’s also the issue of the headboard cushion, or as Thuma calls it, the Pillowboard. Essentially a sofa-style cushion the width of the Classic Bed, the Pillowboard is intended to serve as a pseudo-headboard. It squeezes into the space between the head of your mattress and the wall behind your bed. I don’t hate it, but it’s just not as stable as a proper headboard, it’s too short to properly sit up against, and it also requires that the head of your bed frame is snug against a wall. Thuma sells a wooden headboard upgrade for about $845, but I’m fine living with the pillowboard for the time being.
If you’re a compulsive redecorator or rearranger, the Thuma Classic Bed might not be the best fit for you. But if you’re looking for an attractive, minimalistic wooden frame that is durable and stays stable and quiet—and if you’re unlikely to have help assembling it or taking it apart—I can’t recommend it enough.
I expect it will keep me from any rude awakenings for years to come.
This article was edited by Joanne Chen and Megan Beauchamp.
