My world has always been the shop floor, the showroom, the warehouse. Here in Mayfair, a sofa is never just a sofa. Couples step through the door, and they’re looking for furniture that will outlast them. A funky accent cool chair, never fails to speak up. There was a velvet sofa that went to a townhouse in Chelsea, and the sofa aged but never gave way. That’s what vintage means. People wander past the big chains, but at the end they admit.

Modern things break, whereas old chairs carry life. This city speaks through its homes. Hampstead seeks calm, with deep seats. Shoreditch is playful, with colourful sofas. That’s the mix. End of the day, a sofa becomes family. Modern factory pieces can’t compete. I still sit to see how it feels, and the real thing speaks. Classic pieces endure. Next time you flick through a catalogue, pause. Pick up a retro armchair, and let it settle into your life.