First year in London was chaos. The flat looked more squat than home, leather chair retro but we dragged in whatever we could find. New furniture is soulless, luxury lounge seating so we grabbed second-hand. Another dragged a chair from Camden. It looked like chaos, but that’s why it worked. Retro armchairs have weight, and it fits our lifestyle. I’ve fallen asleep in a battered armchair with a book, and the furniture was part of the night. East London is built on mix and mess, and students rely on it.
I stopped by Smithers looking for nothing, and the accent chairs were bold and weird. we had to haggle, but it’s survived three house parties and a flood. We’ve all shoved sofas through windows. it’s where life happens. Vintage pieces survive it. Modern stuff? Forget it, but funky chairs grow with you. every stain means another night. Looking back after twelve months, the broken toaster doesn’t matter, but you remember the sofa. Next time you walk past a market, skip the flat-pack rubbish.
Take home something with scars, and let it shout Shoreditch every time you sit.