I grew up amongst furniture, and I’ve never left it. In the heart of London, a sofa is never just a sofa. Old families from Belgravia and Kensington, and they’re all searching for the same thing. A velvet seat with history, gives them that. I remember selling a Chesterfield to a gentleman from St John’s Wood, and the scars became part of the charm. That’s the point with retro. They fall for quirky chairs fashion too quickly, but sooner or later they return.

Fabric frays fast, whereas real furniture stays. The capital’s rooms all look different. St John’s Wood desires quiet luxury, with buttoned wingbacks. Shoreditch is playful, with colourful sofas. That’s the charm. End of the day, a sofa becomes family. Mass production never delivers it. I still check the stitching for accent couch strength, and I know straight away. Classic pieces endure. So when you’re tempted by the new, step back. Find yourself a vintage sofa, and let it settle into your life.