When I moved to Shoreditch I had nothing but a mattress. The carpet smelled like beer, but we filled it with life. Flat-pack breaks too quick, so we begged, borrowed and carried. Someone even nabbed a table from outside a pub. The colours clashed, but that’s what made it ours. Chairs with scars feel stronger, and we care more about story than gloss. I’ve watched half my flat pass out across two chairs, and those seats carried us. East London is built on mix and mess, and dealers live for it.

We found ourselves in Smithers showroom, and the sofas looked like they belonged in films. money was tight, http://wiki.die-karte-bitte.de/ but everyone fights to sit in it. Ask around and you’ll hear it. it’s where life happens. Accent chairs don’t flinch when four people pile on. Mass production doesn’t care, but vintage carries weight. every creak is another laugh. When you’re moving out, you don’t remember the kettle, but that funky accent chair is legend.

Next time you walk past a market, leave the glossy showrooms behind. Make space for a classic seat, and let it shout Shoreditch every time you sit.