Vogue Williams’ Howth kitchen is pink and has the satisfying ridged texture of Polly Pocket’s home circa 1990. I remember vintage toys because I am old. Williams, meanwhile, is ageless. “Okay, she does NOT look 40” my nine-year old says and as the benchmark for what 40 looks like, I try not to feel offended. “I know some people would look at that and go ‘bleurgh’,” Williams says, gesturing to the pastel cabinets behind her. “But they make me happy.”

We’re watching the inaugural episode of Dermot Bannon’s Celebrity Super Spaces, and Williams is his first guest. It makes delightful intergenerational viewing as we critique the free-standing bathtub as “fabulous”, and the children’s bedroom “suspiciously tidy”. I’m explaining the concept of MTV cribs to my son when Williams’ husband Spencer Matthews saunters into shot in tiny shorts, a T-shirt held like a lame excuse in one hand. “There’s The Spencer” says Bannon, nonplussed, as though naming a perplexing water feature.

From Williams we move to jewellery designer Chupi Sweetman’s gorgeous Georgian townhouse, where the throughline is distinctly metallic – a gold staircase, (“what possessed you?” Bannon blurts out), brass cabinets in the kitchen and a gold leaf sunrise like a homage to Patrick Scott framing the master bed. “It’s Marmite. You either love it or hate it,” she says of her aesthetic choices.

A deconsecrated church in Cavan belonging to musician Don Mescall has decor that feels part Meatloaf video, part Ikea showroom. “Bleurgh,” I go.

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