In the current situation, we have all found ourselves spending far more time in our homes than we would normally. For those of us living in the great metropolises of the world, this comes with its own challenges. When a large part of urban existence has always been conducted outside, en masse and with the boundaries between the public and the domestic blurred, then a life of even relative confinement comes with a certain realigning of perspectives, especially when it comes to your personal space.

With this in mind, we’ve taken a trip into some of our favourite creatives’ homes to find out how they live, and how that can be an extension of their style. Photographer Mr Ben McMahon has shot for British Vogue, ArtReview, The Gourmand and the Financial Times, with some of his work held in the permanent collection of the National Portrait Gallery. He shares his home in east London with his housemate of seven years (and sometime creative partner) Mr David Nolan, a stylist whose keen appreciation of classic British tailoring and style has seen him work for some of Savile Row’s most storied names, including Hardy Amies, Turnbull & Asser, Gieves & Hawkes and Richard James (as well as working as a stylist for musicians, including Mr Calvin Harris, the Arctic Monkeys and Mr George Ezra).

Here, Mr McMahon photographs their London home and his housemate’s wardrobe, while Mr Nolan talks us through his favourite pieces, their living space and his own sense of style.

In terms of our senses of style, I don’t think a lot’s changed from us living together, really. Ben’s more of a casual person while I’m really into classic menswear and the more sartorial side of things. I was maybe a bit more dandy when I was younger, a bit more flamboyant – as you get older, your sense of style relaxes. My tastes have honed down into a small pool of things I like to wear. It’s similar pieces and shapes to what I used to wear, but take away the accessories and little flourishes and that’s where I’m at now.

There’s security and comfort in certain things. There’s a Caruso shirt – instantly I’d want to wear that and I’d feel good about myself. It’s golden in tone, and there’s something about the texture. It’s subtle, but it looks beautiful. Your eye, as an instinct, hones over time. I have the same thing when I’m flicking through a vintage clothes shop and something jumps out at you. You grab it, and nine times out of 10 you’re right, something drew you to that.

When I’m around the house more, it doesn’t really diverge from the way I dress anyway – there will be certain comforts that make you feel well put together. Whenever I see good vintage shirts, I’ll pick them up. Budd, Turnbull & Asser, Frank Foster – with those three names their quality doesn’t really change, the consistency is always the same. There’s something about a great British shirt; they have a certain look and feel to them. It’s very comforting.

It was my birthday last weekend and I had dinner with my girlfriend. We were supposed to go to a restaurant, but instead we both dressed up [at home] – there was something quite lovely about sharing that with each other. Putting on a nice outfit – I had on a red pullover by Connolly – it made it feel more special, even though we were at home.

A coffee every morning is a must-have, from the Bialetti. That’s part of my routine, it’s the most blissful part of the day, just slowly enjoying that. The espresso comes out so hot that by the time you finish your breakfast the coffee is the perfect temperature. And that vintage-looking, beautiful piece of knitwear is from Beams Plus. Just seeing that over the back of a chair is a lovely thing.

There’s a bespoke pair of loafers that George Cleverley made and the socks are Charvet. Shoes are a real passion for me – there’s something so beautiful about a handmade pair of shoes, I consider it as close to a work of art as clothes worn on the body can be. I have shoes made once a year, and I’ve been doing that for about 10 years now.

About eight years ago, I bought a couple of vintage Rolexes. One is over 100 years old. It’s a scaled-down pocket watch that I had restored. I’m more drawn to the vintage ones because of their scale – I think you can still get very beautiful looking modern watches, but I prefer something a bit smaller on my wrist. Over the past year and a half I’ve got a vintage Art Deco Omega and a Jaeger-LeCoultre. I love the way that a vintage watch feels on the wrist – you want something of great beauty there, but it’s not screaming. I also wear cufflinks occasionally – they’re quite simple, usually a plain gold pair.

For me it’s about stripping away the stuff that feels superfluous – I know the feeling of seeing a real vintage guy, and he’s pushing it one step too far with the tie-pin or the period bag. Strip those things away, and he’ll look so much cooler and effortless and less self-conscious. Some things are so classic and timeless that they sit beyond trend, it all just becomes irrelevant – a classic shirt is a classic shirt, whether it’s on a man in the 1940s through to now.

[Styling someone] comes down to your approach and being matched correctly with the artist you’re going to be working with. I don’t think I have to be some kind of loud character – a lot of stylists can be too present in the room, but you’ve just got to be respectful and subtle, and really listen to what they’re trying to achieve with their image. It’s always felt very instinctive to me. The last time I worked with Arctic Monkeys was on Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino – Alex Turner has got an innate sense of style. A lot of cinematic references from him came beforehand, visuals that capture the sound and feel of the album – Fellini, Truffaut, Kubrick. Getting the balancing act of vintage pieces that fit the tone was important. And that’s the same approach that I take to my own wardrobe.