If you have heard Martin Lewis’s phrase “heat the human, not the home”, but don’t know where to start, I’m here to tell you that we live in an age of wonders. Heated textiles are portable, and come in a range of colours, textures and sizes, they are energy efficient and some are even battery charged. You can buy heated items for every part of your body, from hat to socks. And lots of us do: last autumn, Lakeland reported that sales of heated textiles were up 250% year on year.
This is hardly surprising, given that British homes are woefully ill insulated and heating them costs a fortune. Typical energy bills under the January to March 2024 price cap will be almost 60% higher than in winter 2021/22.
I know of what I speak: I’m a cold person (yes, emotionally too) and I live in a cold house, complaining constantly. It’s 17C in my office now and if I want to feel any warmth from the little electric heater, I have to sit on it.
So which heated textiles are the best? Finally tackling the job I was born to do, I have spent two weeks exhaustively road-testing a range of items. My office is a dangerous tangle of cables, I have retreated into a giant nest of grey velour and synthetic fluff and I’m not sure I have ever been happier. The thought of going back to a hotwater bottle and microwave heat pad is cruel indeed. But before I do, and while my fingers still work, let me fill you in on what I learned.
Two general points first: these products claim to be machine washable, but I haven’t tested that. Second, although not cheap to buy, heated textiles can be an energy- efficient way to keep warm. I enlist the household energy police, my husband, who can detect rogue appliance use at 100 paces, to use his smart meter to test out the manufacturers’ electrical consumption claims. They all seem pretty accurate: around 60w/hr to charge or use smaller items, up to 240-260w/hr for the biggest items on full power. He is impressed: he thinks it would take five to 10 times that to heat a room in our house. But which to choose? Take my toasty warm hand and let me guide you.
Heated throws
There is a reason these have become a contemporary consumer classic: they take a blanket and make it better; thank you science. But are all heated throws made equal? I’m playing two off against each other, like a capricious Roman emperor.
In the brown corner, the Lakeland StaySnug at £99.99 (“Arctic faux fur… softness and snuggles”); in the green corner, Dreamland’s Hurry Home at £74.99 (“deluxe velvet… opulently designed in jewel tones”). Dreamland’s copywriter is talking a big game – “sumptuous”; “dreamy microclimate”; “perfect for solo snuggling or shared cocooning” – while the StaySnug will just “keep you warm and cosy” and “costs pennies to run”. But maybe Lakeland no longer has anything to prove, heated tech-wise? Let’s see.
Similarities: the throws are the same size (160 x 120cm) and machine washable. Differences: the Hurry Home says it’s also tumble dryer safe, but it only has six temperature and three time settings (one, three and nine hours); the StaySnug has nine of each, meaning you can choose to have as little as 20 minutes (pff, who would want that?) or as much as three hours’ heat time.
But how do they perform? I drape one throw over each leg for an evening and try out various settings. They are equally pleasantly soft and generate the same amount of heat. By a small margin I prefer the Hurry Home – the fabric is thicker and less slippery – but I wouldn’t kick the StaySnug off the sofa.
After this careful test, I do what I have been plotting since I got them: put them both on maximum and place myself between them, in panini press fashion, until I can imagine my organs bubbling and molten like mozzarella. This is living.
Verdict: Hurry Home – 10/10 irreproachable toasting; StaySnug – 9/10, a respectable second.
Stoov Big Hug
I’ve dreamed about the Big Hug (£119.99) – a stylish-looking rechargeable battery-powered heated pad, ideal for your home or office chair – for ages, and it knows; it has been pursuing me around the internet for months, like Ahab and the whale. Finally, it’s landed me, but maybe it’s a case of “never meet your heroes”, because it fell slightly flat.
Plus points: breaking with the aesthetic conventions of cosy, the Big Hug looks good; it’s chic and discreet, in charcoal grey. It also heats instantly: I go from ice cube to toasty in 30 seconds. It’s long enough to cover the seat and back of my chair, heating me from shoulder to knee, and I also like the fact that you’re not plugged in, meaning you can take it wherever you go: your car, sofa, the bus … However, even the lowest level (28-32C according to the guide) gets too hot for me, I suspect because the fabric is thin, so you are closer to the heated element than with fluffier products. The Big Hug also struggles to hug my office chair – it keeps slipping off the leathery surface; it would work better on fabric, I think. A full charge of the battery takes two to four hours and heats you for three hours on the lowest heat setting, which is OK I suppose, but hardly a full working day of warmth. It’s very pleasant, but it’s no heat holy grail.
Verdict: Algorithmically underwhelming. 7.5/10
Heated pad
There is something plaintive, pleading even, about a product called “Revive Me”. At this time of year, good luck if you are anything less than a defibrillator: I’m in the kind of deep hibernation you see when David Attenborough goes and pokes an Arctic frog that has spent five years in permafrost.
The Dreamland Revive Me (£39.99) cannot restart my frog heart, but it has something of the reptilian, as it is a small heat pad: my husband uses something similar to keep his tortoises perky in the chill Yorkshire spring. The instructions are clear, however: “Do not use this appliance to warm animals.” The woman on the packaging is clutching it to her abdomen in a way that suggests womanly complaints. Well, I am a woman and I always have complaints, so let’s see how it performs.
On the upside, it certainly heats fast. There are five heat settings and no timer to worry about: the pad just shuts off after three hours. I do have complaints though, namely that it’s too small for serious heating (35×40 cm) and a bit stiff, so it doesn’t wrap well around your abdomen. I try sitting on it instead, which is pleasant, until I read on the website that you’re not supposed to.
Verdict: Did not warm this animal. 6/10
Gilet
Finally, a chance to join in the finance bro winter. Gilets are tirelessly, and rightly, parodied online as the winter wardrobe of hedge funders, and wearing one with added battery powered heat makes me feel like the 1%. The Ororo gilet is slim, black and makes me feel as if I might understand Microsoft Excel. Basically I’m one stealth wealth cashmere baseball cap away from being Kendall Roy (could the cap also be heated? Jess, make that happen). When I spot a neurosurgeon wearing one on TikTok, I feel even more special.
The battery takes a few hours to charge, then there are three settings for the heating patches located around the torso, neck and shoulders. Even the lowest setting is seriously toasty. I’m not complaining, exactly, but when I take a selfie it looks as if I’ve spent 20 minutes in the corporate sauna.
Of course, the Ororo is designed for outdoors: “Perfect for all outdoor winter activities, cold indoor environments, tailgating or walking your dog!” it claims. I don’t know what tailgating is and I doubt I’d enjoy it, even while heated, but I drag myself around the block, sans coat, avec gilet. On a frosty day, I’m fine without a coat, perhaps finally gaining my North Yorkshire neighbours’ respect? All this comfort comes at a price, though: it’s the most expensive product I test, retailing at £169.99 (though reduced to £127.49 at the time of writing).
Verdict: Elite heat. 9/10
I get a very respectable home counties vibe from this rather staid grey and white two-layered electric tea cosy for feet, as if it might vote for that nice Mr Sunak. Am I being unfair? Let’s see.
I insert my feet into the fleecy inner shell of a Silentnight Comfort Control Cosy Foot Warmer (£40) and crank it up to three – there are only three heat settings, which feels underwhelming for a person who has experienced Lakeland’s nine-level luxury. Then, I wait. For ages, nothing seems to happen; I’m warmer because there’s something on my feet, no more. After about 20 minutes though, it’s burn baby burn, so much so that I have to turn it down. I don’t find the format very practical for getting up and stretching my legs (OK, fetching snacks) – the two layers become separated when I exit the cosy and have to be reassembled each time. I suppose it means you can wash the inner part, but come on, are we going goblin mode or not, what is this “washing”? I think you’d really have to suffer specifically from cold feet to choose this. Does it get my vote? No.
Verdict: Easier to Remain than Leave. 6/10
Heated poncho
Oh no. This … has changed my life. For the worse, because I will never leave the house, socialise, have a camera-on meeting or have sex again because I live in a velour cocoon now; it is impossible for me to take off this Lakeland heated poncho (£89.99). It’s also a truly catastrophic look for me: fluffy grey inner, shiny grey-blue velour outer and seriously voluminous. My best friend says it’s “giving Cossack warlord” but we both know it is giving nothing of the sort. But I don’t care, because I have never known such perfect heated happiness.
The practicalities: it has the Lakeland gold-standard nine heat and time settings for maximum custom warming and there are poppers down the front to keep it securely in place. The impracticalities: I’m in love. I’ve just heard my be-poncho-ed self whisper out loud: “This is so nice” – a degree of positivity I never express about anything. Why? I think it’s the enveloping yet practical nature of the garment: my hands are free to type but the rest of me is utterly cosy. I plan to update my will to ensure I am buried in one.
Verdict: Ponch-drunk love. 1000/10
