Hubs and I bought our first house in 1995, the deposit saved from an entire year of my hard earned salary. I'm sure I've told you that story before - four hours a day, commuting through the Tokyo rush hour and the thing that kept me going on days when the white gloved platform pushers were shoving us into the carriages like cattle was the mantra of 'one more brick, one more brick'.
It took six months from returning to the UK to find the house we wanted to buy - a Victorian semi in a good part of town, with a long thin garden and most important to me, stairs I could climb to bed. As we house hunted, I read interiors magazines and dreamed of what our home would be like. One thing was for sure, we didn't want it to resemble the homes of our parents - it was going to be fresh, timeless, classic.
Of course now, as I look back on those notebooks now, I smile at how dated some of our ideas of 'fresh and classic' look now. And the super irony? I realise that my parents now live in the epitome of a mid century modern, hipster's dream pad.
My mother's kitchen accessories are the exact orange my design savvy friend just picked out for her kitchen. Bar cart? Tick. Ercol furniture? Oh yes. Parquet floor in pristine condition - they have it. Even those West German lava pottery floor lamps - though my mother swears now that she probably bought them from Argos. Every once in a while, I will spot an element of their home in some emporium and rush to phone them and let them know what their tea, coffee and sugar canisters are worth on the vintage market!
Who knows, if we had waited twenty years to get on the property ladder, I might have been gagging to re-create their look. Because I'm not averse to a spot of vintage chic. It is useful, living in a fairly new build house, as we now do, to inject a bit of patina of the past. Stops everything looking as if you just swooped along the high street acquiring all your household necessities in one go, thereby sentencing you to a definite design graveyard at some point in the future. Though thinking about it, if you did that and just hung tight, you'd probably turn vintage chic again at some point in the future.
The colours of that era are easy to pinpoint in my mind - orange and brown, harvest gold, avocado. Poof - imagine that lot and you're straight back to the 70's, your feet snuggled in a shag pile rug and a spider plant in a macrame hanger. When we bought our first home? It was beige all the way - the magnolia years. With curtain poles, not tracks - very important.
And what about now - when our current interior choices are examined in the cold light of hindsight. Will the cliche of white with 'pops' of colour scream vintage 2010s? Or perhaps it will be the Cath Kidston bright pastel palette. I strongly suspect the oh so personal statement feature wall will be a marker, as will my beloved antlers. And let's not forget bunting.
Because vintage, where colour is concerned, speaks to me in the same way as the dictionary still defines it in the context of wine - from a certain year.
Put your time travelling specs on - what are your interior palette future clichés of the moment?