Why I'll Always Choose an Old Piece Over a New One

I grew up in Damascus, where nothing got thrown away. A chest of drawers passed through three generations. A kitchen table had stories in its scratches. My grandmother's house was full of pieces that had been repaired, repainted, reupholstered, and loved back into service more times than anyone could count. That wasn't thrift. It was respect.

When I started designing interiors in London, I brought that instinct with me. I'm not interested in filling a home with things that arrived in flatpacks last Tuesday. I want pieces that have weight. That have a past. The kind of furniture you run your hand across and feel something.

One of my favourite projects involved a first-time buyer who'd inherited a handful of antiques from a grandparent. A display cabinet. A writing desk. A pair of side tables. Beautiful bones, but tired finishes that didn't sit with the rest of the flat. Most designers would have said "put them in storage" or worse, suggested replacing them. I saw an opportunity.

We hand-refinished every piece. The cabinet was painted in a deep forest green with new brass handles. The side tables were stripped, stained dark, and given new life beside a navy velvet sofa. The desk became the centrepiece of a hallway that sets the tone the moment you walk in. These aren't "old things we kept." They're the most interesting pieces in the flat, and they carry real meaning.

Upcycling is a word people associate with Pinterest projects and chalk paint. I understand that, but what I do is different. I work with skilled craftspeople to take vintage and antique furniture and bring it into a contemporary scheme. New colour, new hardware, sometimes new upholstery. The structure stays. The character stays. The story stays. But the piece earns its place in a modern home.

There's also a practical side. A solid wood cabinet from the 1950s is built better than almost anything you'll find on the high street today. The joinery is real. The timber is seasoned. It was made to last, and with the right refresh, it will last another fifty years. That's not sentiment. That's value.

I find my pieces in estate sales, vintage markets, and sometimes on the side of the road. I've pulled a stunning Art Deco mirror out of a house clearance in Croydon and turned it into the focal point of a living room. I've taken a battered teak sideboard and turned it into something a client's friends assume cost thousands.

If you've got inherited furniture you're not sure what to do with, or if you love the idea of a home that feels collected rather than purchased, get in touch. This is the work I love most.