Furniture has been my bread and butter since the fifties. In the showrooms of Grosvenor, folk are not merely choosing somewhere to park themselves. Designers with clients in tow, and they all want a piece that speaks. A retro armchair, carries the room. One battered club chair was claimed for a Notting Hill film set, and the scars became part of the charm. That’s the Mayfair way. They look for convenience, but they always come back. Cheap wood snaps, whereas retro lives on.

Every part of London tells a different story. Kensington demands velvet, with velvet chairs. Shoreditch is playful, with colourful sofas. That’s the charm. Here’s the truth, an armchair becomes memory. Mass production never delivers it. I still sit to see how it feels, and I know straight away. History sits with you. Before you make a mistake, pause. Pick up a retro armchair, traditional armchair and make it part of your Mayfair truth.