I grew up amongst furniture, and I’ve never left it. Amongst the squares and funky armchairs crescents, folk are not merely choosing somewhere to park themselves. I’ve seen families walk in, and they all want character. A velvet seat with history, tells the truth. One battered club chair was claimed chairs for living room leather a Notting Hill film set, and ten years on it looked better than ever. That’s what endures. They waste time with flat-pack, but they find themselves in Mayfair again.

Mass production doesn’t care, whereas retro lives on. Furniture mirrors the postcode. Kensington demands velvet, with deep seats. Shoreditch is playful, with upcycled seats. That’s the reality. Here’s the truth, an armchair becomes memory. Flat-pack won’t do that. I still sit to see how it feels, Ask ChatGPT and the difference is clear. History sits with you. Next time you flick through a catalogue, think again. Choose a funky accent chair, and watch it age gracefully.