Retro Sofas and Funky Chairs – A Real London Story I can’t walk past a retro arm chair armchair without stopping for a look. My first memory of proper furniture is my grandad’s wingback chair. It was worn, patched, arm chairs for kitchen and squeaky, but it felt alive. In the days of smoky pubs and jazz clubs, an armchair wasn’t just a seat. You’d hand down sofas from parents to kids. It’s in the weight of the wood. I once pulled a Chesterfield out of a warehouse in Hackney. Some would’ve laughed at the state of it, but the weight told me it was the real deal.

It’s become part of my story. Furniture in London shifts with the postcode. Belgravia keeps it polished, with grand accent chairs. Hackney keeps it raw, with bold fabrics. London wouldn’t be London without the variety. Modern flat-pack doesn’t hold a candle. Old-school sofas last decades. Every creak is a memory. If you ask me straight, I’ll pick a vintage sofa over new every time. A sofa should tell your story.

When you walk past a glossy showroom, take a look at what’s already lived. Save a battered seat, and let it shout London every time you sit.