My Love Affair with the ’70s, Vintage Treasures & One Glorious Green Velvet Couch

Some people fall in love with places, others with people. Me? I fell hard for an era—the 1970s. A time of sunken lounges, wood-panelled walls, shag carpets, and the kind of effortless cool that feels impossible to recreate today. It’s an aesthetic, a mood, a way of life that speaks to my soul. And at the heart of it all? A green velvet couch that found me, very much by accident, recently.

The Couch That Found Me

I wasn’t searching for it, not really. But that’s the magic of vintage—you don’t choose the pieces, they choose you. I found her (yes, she’s a her) in a second-hand store, tucked between a teak credenza and a stack of old vinyl records. Deep, rich emerald velvet. Low-slung. The kind of couch that has seen countless late-night conversations, maybe a few heartbreaks, some disco-fuelled house parties. I ran my hand over the fabric, imagined sinking into it with a book or a glass of wine, and that was it. Love.

Why the ’70s?

There’s something about the ’70s that just gets me. Maybe it’s the way design felt intentional yet relaxed, how everything from furniture to fashion had a little extra flair. It was a decade that didn’t shy away from bold choices—think mustard yellows, burnt oranges, and, of course, that deep, delicious green. It was an era where craftsmanship mattered, where things were built to last, where style wasn’t dictated by trends but by feeling.

I bring that philosophy into my own space—every piece I collect has a story, a history, a soul. From the hums of Fleetwood Mac, to vintage glassware that turns even a simple cocktail into an occasion.

Living with Vintage

Living with vintage means embracing imperfection. A little wear, a little history—it all adds character. That green velvet couch? It’s got a tiny worn spot on the seat, a whisper of the decades it’s lived through. I love that. It reminds me that things don’t have to be pristine to be perfect.

It also means slowing down. In a world obsessed with fast everything—fast fashion, fast furniture, fast content—I like the idea of pausing, of searching for the right piece, of restoring rather than replacing.

A Time Capsule, But Make It Now

My home isn’t a museum, and I’m not living in a time warp (though, trust me, I wouldn’t mind a time machine to Studio 54). Instead, I weave the '70s into my everyday—mixing vintage finds with modern touches, balancing nostalgia with the now.

That green velvet couch? She’s not just furniture. She’s a vibe, a mood, a memory in the making. And every time I sink into her cushions, I’m reminded why I fell in love with this era in the first place.

Because some love affairs are fleeting. But this one? This one’s for life.