I have been interviewed many times over the course of my career and it is always interesting to see how a Q&A session develops. Some questions are predictable but others lead the conversation in unexpected and fascinating directions. As Editor in Chief of Elle Decoration UK, the leading magazine on contemporary design and interiors, there is no one more appropriate to interview me for my retrospective book than Michelle Ogundehin.

I’ve read that when you were a child, you loved to play with pop-up books, the kind that open up like a 3-D world. It strikes me that this is all about stage-setting, which is a lot of what home-making is too. How early on did you realize that your life path had to be design and interiors?

KH Very early. My mother said that at 13 years old I was in the bathroom laying out my bottles and making everything beautiful. But I was obsessed with those pop-up books from much younger. I’d play with them for hours, creating stories in my mind – I always wanted to get into the back of them. I was really into the structure of how things worked. I’d even cut out pieces and move them around inside.

But a pivotal moment for me was when I was about 11. I was allowed to redecorate my childhood bedroom, which was very pink. My mother said I could change it if I knew what I wanted, which I absolutely did. Firstly, I wanted to swap rooms with my brother because he was at boarding school, so that was agreed, and then I asked for cream shag-pile carpet, chocolate-brown felt trimmed with chrome for the walls, white shutters on all the cupboards and an incredible silver Robin Day chair with holes in it that I’d seen; my brother still has it in his studio today. The only dodgy thing was the duvet cover, which was brown and white. I wanted this sort of modern pop-art bedroom.

What about your parents? Were they into design and interiors? I’m intrigued to understand whether your talent is innate, inherited or learnt?

KH When I was growing up I was surrounded by this very bohemian London lifestyle, with my mother and all her literary and artist and sculptor friends, and my father’s fashion business. And because I was living at home, I was very much included in it, always at dinners, listening to people, soaking it all up like a sponge. But my mother’s style was incredibly varied. Her study was amazing, all metal and smoked brown glass from Ciancimino. The dining room was not my thing, very green and white with trellis, like the inside of a conservatory, but still stylish, as was my parents’ bedroom. It had a low bed covered with zebra fabric, with low side tables – very modern and cool – and then her living room was very traditional with an amazing collection of glass bells. I think her style was very diverse, which was great for me because I was exposed to all these different looks and she loved it, and it was warm and inviting.

I was very house-proud, though, and my mum was quite messy, which she’ll hate me for saying but it’s true. She’d go out and I’d somehow convince the au pair to help me move furniture across the room. When other kids were watching TV shows, I was moving furniture around. On weekends, my mum would ask me what I wanted to do, and I’d say I wanted to go and look at show flats. In those days they were really prevalent, and they’d always have open days. My mum loved interiors and art, so we’d have great fun together. We’d go to museums and art galleries all the time, too, so from a very early age my childhood was incredibly informative in the arts.

I also had a great aunt, who lived in a beautiful six-storey house one street away from us. Most days after school I’d go and see her. She had this incredible study with love seats upholstered in bright orange velvet, an amazing Amtico floor that looked like marble with brass inlays, and a pair of drinks cabinets with mirrored glass so they looked like they went on forever. We used to sit down and just talk about her house and life – she was a larger-than-life character with amazing taste and a phenomenal air. I was obsessed with her style.

So that’s where my love for home came in. I was very fortunate to be able to go into homes like that, and those of my mother’s extraordinary mix of friends. But it came entirely from me; nobody said, ‘Go and do interiors.’

Digging a little deeper, you were born in South Africa, so I’m wondering what influence this heritage might also have had on you? I know you left when you were two, but you’ve often spoken very warmly of returning every Christmas to visit your grandmother. Do these memories continue to inform you today?

KH My father, who is British, took the QE2 over to South Africa for work, and he met my South African mother, who lived in Constantia, just south of Cape Town. Her family home was incredible; without doubt, it partly made me who I am. I have a memory of every part of that house. It was extraordinary, with loads of antiques, incredible fabrics and wonderful art. My grandmother’s china cupboards were full of Venetian glass and accessories that we’d use to lay the table every Friday night. I’d go out into her hydrangea garden, famous in Cape Town, to cut flowers for the table, too. I’d bake heart-shaped chocolate cakes in the kitchen with Ella, my grandmother’s cook. Upstairs I’d crochet, and we’d look out of the windows at night to see whether the gorillas would come and shake the plum trees. I used to get into bed with my grandmother every morning and we’d have boiled eggs and home-made soda-bread soldiers with Marmite and cottage cheese and a cup of tea. I even still remember the smell of my grandfather’s aftershave, the way he’d put his watch on, and these incredible silk shirts he’d had made in Europe. I loved that I always went back and nothing had changed. It was all part of an amazing time spent with cousins, aunts and uncles. And, I suppose, because I had tragedy later in life, with my parents divorcing and then my father dying when I was still so young, this was a crucial – and genuinely happy – time for me.

For you to be celebrating 40 years of practice, you must have started work incredibly young, and with no time for any formal training?

KH Yes! I got my first project through my stepfather when I was 161/2. He had a friend who wanted a kitchen doing. It was in Elvaston Place in London. He was an alcoholic, but somehow we managed to get some builders through him, who were the same. It was a disaster! I mean, it was hideous, but what mattered was I made a job happen. And then the next project came when I was 171/2, through a girlfriend of mine who knew Guy Edwards, the Grand Prix racing driver. He asked me to do up his massive house in The Boltons, and that was basically the beginning of my career. I was very lucky to be given the chance based on my own flat that he had seen.

And you had no doubts? Surely you were scared? It seems an incredibly audacious thing to be doing up people’s homes as a teenager?

‘My style evolved in a very organic way – it was real and intuitive’

KH I was just so happy to be out of school, and so happy to be in control. By the age of 17 I’d bought and done up my own apartment in Chelsea and set up an office there. The kitchen was pretty awful – I painted it peacock blue – but the living room and the bedroom were good. I remember, I’d bought this Chinese lacquered trunk at Portobello, too, so my love of East meets West was already starting. And I had my first proper studio, at 134 Lots Road, about two years later.

I was lucky. I did a fantastic job for Guy Edwards and from that I got another racing driver, Keke Rosberg, just before he won the World Championship, and then a couple of actors, including Martin Shaw. I remember it was a very exciting time at the beginning, and from there is history and discretion.

But I feel so fortunate to have been so young when I started this process. Back then, everything came from a real intrigue and experience, rather than what I feel people do today, which is just to open up a book and copy from it. My style evolved in a very organic way – it was real and intuitive. I was developing my thing and building my team. Also, since I was a little girl, I’d travelled during every half term and holiday, seeing old buildings, art and museums all over Europe, then every year going back to South Africa, and always going to art galleries, so I had this very different, international perspective. And then, of course, my love for the East became an obsession.

You have to remember that in those days there wasn’t the Internet, it was about word of mouth and physically trawling the design centres and shops. For example, I discovered this man on Great Portland Street who sold calico, hessian and mattress ticking, and, because I couldn’t afford expensive materials, I’d use these as the main fabrics instead. So when I was doing up some of the houses, I’d use calico and ticking to upholster the chairs and add some stitching, but then throw in lacquer or a delicate Fortuny cushion, and that was what made this eclectic look that started a trend.

You have the most incredible recall for detail. And when you design, you’ve often said it comes straight from the heart, that you have a very intuitive way of working, distilling everything you’ve seen, heard, smelt and felt into a singular and tangible vision. How does this work?

KH The interesting thing is I’m very dyslexic, but I only found out when my daughter Natasha was diagnosed. I couldn’t read out loud at school. I couldn’t copy anything; the spelling would be wrong, even if I tried as hard as I could. However, if you showed me a page with lots of pictures on it and I looked at it for ten or fifteen minutes, I would have memorized it. So, visually, my IQ is way off the charts, but writing and reading are impossible. My brain just works in a different way.

For example, I can walk into a room and scan it in five minutes and know what to do to make it better. I see a blank canvas and lines start to appear. And as I’m describing it, I can literally see it. So when I’m designing, I can physically visualize a space in 3-D before it’s built. I can take things out and move them around in my mind’s eye, too. I think this really helps me because I’m never jailed by the floor plan. I start with no assumptions of what can and can’t be done. I’ll make the space work for me. Whereas if you go in with restrictions from day one, you’ll never really stretch your imagination, and my imagination is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.

We often talk about the best homes being someone’s personally curated corner of the world, their home as their life, and the idea that a space like that is created slowly over years, and yet your role is to effectively craft this feeling more immediately. How is this possible?

KH It’s because it’s lots of different layers. You meet someone and they’re always going to be nervous, but I’m just excited about a new project. Then they start talking and the more they say, the more they start to relax and we start to engage, and that’s the beginning of building a relationship. It’s just like at a dinner party, discovering what you have in common with someone else. And after we’ve pinned down the fundamentals, what I call the basic wardrobe of the home – the floors, walls and hard finishes – and the feel, I start to show people samples, furniture, lighting and so on that I think they might like, based on what they’ve said. It’s about delving further into that person’s mind, their relationship with their partner, spouse, children, and how they work as a team, in order to create the personal space.

When you build a home for someone, some don’t really know what they want; all they can know is how they want to feel in it. For me, it’s a process of understanding that. It’s an art and it doesn’t happen immediately. It’s hard. Getting into someone’s head is intriguing and brilliant, and I love that part. That, for me, is what good design is all about. You have to keep digging away to get the words, and then the words have to be attached to something that’s tangible. And you have to be completely selfless, so you can guide someone with style to fulfil their dream. When I first started, I definitely had more of an ego. I wanted to impose what I thought was best, but now the process is much more organic and second nature – with no ego! What I won’t let go of, though, is making everything stylish and beautiful.

‘If I was influenced by trends, I don’t think I would have lasted so long’

How have you navigated the evolution of taste over the years since you started, from the vagaries of showpiece homes and extravagantly swagged window treatments in the early 1980s, via the pure minimalist look, to current ideas of home as a cocoon of security and warmth?

KH The thing is, I don’t take notice of trends. It’s weird. Maybe it’s because I’m so busy and always in my own head, but my influences come from things like art, fashion, vintage, music, people and conversation. I tend to look at trends and where things are going a bit like fashion – it’s there and it’s not, and it’s not substantial enough to make it important to me. I remember when minimalism came in, though. I steered very far away from it because it didn’t feel like me, and when people called me a minimalist, it would drive me mad. I consider myself a purist. John Pawson is the greatest minimalist of all time, and what he does is incredible, but I wouldn’t know how to do it. It wouldn’t be natural to me, and I wouldn’t enjoy it. I know what I love and what excites me about design, and I can design so quickly when it’s true to me. If I was influenced by trends, I don’t think I would have lasted so long.

So where do you get your inspiration from? I know your style is based on several core seams of influence, from the organic world to Eastern influences, but what fires your imagination on a daily basis?

KH My brain is continually collating bits of information from everywhere. I always get inspired by things that have nothing to do with design. I’ll give you an example: in Ibiza one year, I’d been on holiday for nearly a month, which is very unusual for me, and as it came towards the end of the holiday, I drove past this typically Ibizan house with a run of ochre yellow down the side and I remember consciously thinking, I’ve got to clock that because it gives me an idea for a job that I’m doing. And then suddenly, boom! It was the moment I came out of holiday mode and all the things that I’d seen in the last three-and-a-half weeks started filtering back into the virtual filing system in my head. It was when I realized that I needed downtime to restock my brain in order to be able to use it.

There are certain places that have influenced me, too, like Paris, but it’s the essence of the city, rather than a specific detail – the feeling of the place, the flea markets, the way Parisians dress, the flirtation, their use of unexpected pieces and the juxtaposition of fabrics – that je ne sais quoi. I know a lot of people find Swedish and Danish design very inspiring, but that was never me. Italy, though, is a big influence. The Italians have a way of putting things together that on paper really shouldn’t work, but they pull it off. And New York: it’s the fast pace, and the way they live. I like scale, I’m never frightened of it, even in small buildings. New York is very inspiring in every way.

Vintage furniture, too, is inspirational. I think you can create a whole room around a piece, rather than the other way around. I also have a lot of photographs, and a box of tearsheets that I’ve kept for years in my studio. And collections of things: a belt buckle I loved, a picture of bare flesh against silk sheets. I just keep logging those references in the basement of my brain, which is huge. I don’t think I ever discard anything, so I can just pull things back up. And when my head gets full, I go away again for a week.

You’ve said that the art of design is about using space, light and texture to engender good feelings. Do you think that a well-designed space can actually be beneficial for your wellbeing, or even improve your health?

KH Absolutely, 100 per cent. I’ve been into homes that were dark and felt wrong in every way, so much so that I needed to get out, so if you lived in a space like that, it’s surely going to have an effect on you. But today anybody can paint their walls white and make it look brighter. It’s just not necessary to live in spaces that don’t feel right. No matter what budget you’re on, you can brighten up your home. I’d like to think that I can make people happier in their environments, and hopefully from that, if they had some sort of ailment, they might begin to heal. After all, being positive about yourself in mind, body and spirit can definitely make you healthier. What you eat makes you healthier, so what you look at, what you touch, your environment, the music you listen to have all got to have an effect.

And finally, after 40 years, how do you feel about beige and taupe? Are you still in love with neutrals?

KH Looking through this book, you can see that I do use colour but it’s more accents of colour. I like the way a neutral room feels and then the way a colour will sharpen it. But if we think of some of the greats, like David Hicks (his book on interiors was the first one I bought), he was a genius at pattern, and I couldn’t do that. The great traditionalists, like John Stefanidis, they owned their style. Terence Conran – you know who he is: a genius. Philippe Starck, Kelly Wearstler, whether you like it or not, they own their style. That’s what I admire. So I’m not frightened of using colour but neutrals are who I am. It’s worked for 40 years – it was needed – and I’ll continue in the ‘Hoppen’ style.