When I moved to Shoreditch I had nothing but a mattress. The flat looked more squat than home, but we built it piece by piece. No student can afford Mayfair prices, so we searched markets. I spotted a funky armchair on Brick Lane. It felt like Shoreditch, but that’s what made it home. Chairs with scars feel stronger, and students get that instinctively. I’ve fallen asleep in a battered armchair with a book, and the chairs became mates.

Every warehouse flat tells the same story, and dealers live for it. We wandered past Smithers one Saturday, and the place was full of funky retro chairs. We couldn’t afford much, but it’s become the throne of the house. Every student flat tells the same story. it’s half the fun. modern leather armchairs don’t mind if you fall asleep in them. Brand-new looks boring, but retro lasts. every dent becomes part of the flat. By the end of the year, the dodgy landlord fades away, but you remember the sofa.

Next time you walk past a market, leave the glossy showrooms behind. Pick up a vintage armchair, and let it shout Shoreditch every time you sit.