If your family owned one of these 9 furniture pieces, you were living peak 70s style

There’s something about the 1970s that refuses to fade.

Maybe it’s the unapologetic colors. Maybe it’s the sense of comfort mixed with a dash of rebellion.

Or maybe it’s because the furniture wasn’t trying to be minimalist. It was trying to be alive.

Growing up, I spent a lot of weekends at my grandparents’ house, a living museum of 70s design.

Every chair had personality. Every lamp had an opinion. It was loud, a little chaotic, but deeply human.

So if your family owned one of these nine furniture pieces, congratulations. You were living peak 70s style.

1) The avocado green kitchen set

There was a time when avocado green ruled the world.

Fridges, chairs, countertops, everything was in that unmistakable hue that looked halfway between nature and neon. And it wasn’t just about color, it was about identity.

Back then, color meant optimism. After the grayness of postwar design and the conformity of the 50s, people wanted energy.

Green symbolized growth and freshness, even if the vegetables inside the fridge weren’t always that fresh.

Psychologically, color has always shaped how we feel about our environments. The 70s were a time when people wanted to feel more alive at home.

That green was the antidote to beige conformity.

If your mom coordinated the blender, the curtains, and the kitchen chairs in avocado green, she wasn’t just following a trend. She was channeling a cultural mood.

2) The shag carpet that swallowed shoes whole

Remember sinking your feet into a shag carpet so thick it could probably hide a small pet?

The 70s were obsessed with texture. Comfort wasn’t just visual, it was tactile.

A shag rug was a statement: come in, kick off your shoes, and stay a while.

But it was also a rebellion against the sterile, hard-edged modernism of previous decades.

I once visited a friend’s apartment in Los Angeles that had preserved the original gold shag in the living room.

It was like walking into a time capsule, warm, cozy, and somehow grounding.

Today, when I see minimalist hardwood floors in every condo listing, I can’t help but miss that sense of play.

Sure, shag was a vacuum’s worst nightmare, but it brought a softness that modern homes rarely replicate.

3) The massive wood-paneled console TV

This wasn’t just a television. It was a piece of furniture.

A status symbol, an entertainment hub, and often, the heaviest thing in the house.

These wood-paneled giants were the centerpiece of every living room, part machine, part altar.

The family gathered around it for “The Carol Burnett Show” or “Happy Days,” often balancing TV dinners on metal trays.

From a psychological standpoint, that shared viewing experience mattered. It created ritual and community inside the home.

We’ve traded that for endless solo streaming sessions on separate screens. It’s more efficient, sure. But it’s also lonelier.

That old TV wasn’t sleek, but it had soul. And more importantly, it brought people together.

4) The macramé plant hanger (bonus points for spider plants)

Macramé wasn’t just a craft. It was a lifestyle.

Those knotted plant holders hanging by the window symbolized a generation reaching back to something handmade, natural, and slower.

After the industrial boom of the 60s, the 70s brought a yearning for earthiness. Rattan, jute, clay, and houseplants were everywhere.

People were turning their homes into miniature jungles, long before “biophilic design” was a thing.

As a vegan, I get the impulse. Surrounding yourself with greenery is grounding. It reminds you that you’re part of a bigger ecosystem, not separate from it.

If your family had a macramé plant hanger with a spider plant (bonus if it had “babies” hanging down), you were living in sync with one of the most heartfelt trends of the decade.

5) The velvet couch that squeaked when you sat down

Velvet, especially burnt orange or mustard yellow, was the unofficial fabric of the 70s.

It was dramatic, plush, and unapologetically high-maintenance. The kind of couch that made you feel fancy even if your snacks were Ritz crackers and cheese spray.

I still remember the squeak of our family’s velvet sofa, the way the light hit the fabric and left visible marks when you brushed your hand across it.

Velvet furniture symbolized indulgence. It was about sensory pleasure, the look, the feel, the richness. In a decade marked by social upheaval, that softness felt like comfort.

There’s something psychological about tactile luxury. It makes you feel safe and seen. Velvet did that in spades.

6) The wood-paneled everything

If you grew up surrounded by brown paneling, you might have thought every house looked like a cabin.

From basements to dens to entire living rooms, paneling was everywhere.

It was warm, masculine, and felt grounded, a nod to nature in an era increasingly obsessed with technology.

I’ve mentioned this before in another post, but environments shape behavior. When your walls look like a forest, you act differently. You slow down.

Paneling made homes feel cozy, even if they were dark. It was the aesthetic equivalent of a flannel shirt.

And maybe that’s why so many of us still find wood textures comforting today.

7) The bar cart (or basement bar) that made every night feel like a party

There was something ritualistic about the home bar.

Whether it was a sleek rolling cart with chrome handles or an entire basement built for entertaining, the 70s bar represented connection.

Your parents might have hosted cocktail nights, pouring whiskey sours and Tom Collins while Fleetwood Mac played in the background.

This was a social era, one where people talked. The home wasn’t just a retreat, it was a gathering space.

I once found an old mid-century bar cart at a thrift store in Echo Park and restored it. Even empty, it feels alive, like it’s waiting for laughter to fill the room.

Maybe that’s the biggest lesson from 70s furniture. It wasn’t just about design. It was about vibe.

8) The egg chair (or anything that looked like it belonged in a spaceship)

Ah yes, the future, as imagined in 1973.

The egg chair, the ball chair, the pod chair. These sculptural seats were the definition of cool.

They looked like something out of “2001: A Space Odyssey,” and sitting in one made you feel like the future was literally under your butt.

Design in the 70s was obsessed with possibility. Space travel, new materials, the digital age. These pieces reflected that optimism.

I once saw an original Eero Aarnio ball chair in a design exhibit in Copenhagen. It still looked ahead of its time, proof that the 70s weren’t just nostalgic. They were aspirational.

We often think of nostalgia as backward-looking, but the 70s were forward-looking too. These chairs were proof that design could make the future feel personal.

9) The rattan or wicker furniture that made every room feel like summer

Rattan was everywhere, from peacock chairs to hanging egg swings to intricate coffee tables.

It was bohemian, breezy, and unapologetically organic. The perfect blend of global influence and Californian chill.

In a world before “sustainable design” was trendy, rattan was already making a case for natural materials.

It was renewable, lightweight, and fit perfectly with the indoor-outdoor living vibe that defined the decade.

When I was traveling through Bali a few years ago, I noticed how much of the 70s look was inspired by places like that.

Cultures that embraced natural beauty, craftsmanship, and flow.

If your family had a rattan piece, it wasn’t just stylish. It was part of a global design dialogue that still echoes today.

The bottom line

The 70s were messy, colorful, and bold, everything modern design tries not to be.

But that’s what made it so memorable. It wasn’t about perfection. It was about personality.

Every piece of furniture told a story of comfort, connection, and the belief that home should feel alive.

Maybe that’s why 70s style keeps coming back. It reminds us that our homes aren’t just spaces to exist in.

They’re reflections of who we are, who we were, and who we hope to be.

So the next time you see an avocado fridge or a velvet couch in a thrift store, don’t just see it as retro.

See it as a reminder of a time when design dared to be human.