Now, with Korea and Thailand and cheaper manufacturing places, the only way we can compete is through good aesthetics. It's the most, most, most valuable resource we have. And it's lacking because generations of Hong Kong parents have told their kids there's no money in art.' He became an architect: trained in London, bored by Hong Kong. When I asked him to specify the moment it seemed a great idea to start an interiors shop, he replied, 'In the middle of drawing up some fire escapes. In Hong Kong, being an architect made me feel like a lawyer or an accountant - you're chasing people, screaming at people, signing things off. You probably get to choose the colour of mosaic tiles.' He still does some design work but, a little later, he remarked, 'My design clients never pat me on the back and say, 'You've done a good job.' They say, 'Douglas, my roof's leaking.' My customers are buying, I'm collecting their money - that's appreciation.' Which makes him sound mercenary, and he isn't. He struck me as an unusually committed individual, someone with a definite mission (so perhaps GOD isn't such an inappropriate name after all) who's honest to the point of guilelessness.

Several times he described himself as 'hands-on' - he can be found most weekends at the back of the store, stapling things together and working on sewing machines - and he continuously chopped the air neatly with those hands as he spoke. Later on, when I asked him if he worried about the business, he spread his fingers in front of him and replied, 'I've got a rash on my hands. My doctor says it's stress. I can't sleep at night because they're so itchy ...' Maybe he should try yoga. 'Or religion,' he said and laughed.

Technically, he found GOD in October 1996, although he and Benjamin Lau, who is also an architect, had already spent months travelling and looking at other interiors shops for inspiration. He is a particular fan of Sir Terence Conran who managed to change the home (and eating) habits of at least one, if not two, British generations. Habitat, Sir Terence's baby, is an obvious touchstone for GOD's own style and its mission to provide clean, uncluttered, Asian-made design for the mass market.

Lau is now the numbers guy, Young does all the visuals. 'Anything you see passes through my eyes. I want GOD to be selected by one person.' Isn't that risky? 'I suppose it is dangerous, but at least you have coherence. It's consistent, it's a powerful three-dimensional message, from what you smell to the music you hear.' The music at that instant happened to be 1970s Fleetwood Mac. Why? 'Because I like it. I don't question myself so much. I know exactly what I like but that doesn't mean I can describe it to you ... I want to show an unadulterated Douglas Young style.' Even if that seems immodest? 'It's the only standard I know. For me, it's impossible to guess what other people want - it's so peculiar, so particular - it's impossible to judge each nuance.' After a moment, he said, 'I feel I'm not making much sense. It's taken us so long, and I've never written down what I've done.' But, in fact, his passion has great articulacy and he's also a focused listener, eagerly seeking comment and criticism. 'I like working in the shop, I don't want to be recognised as the founder. I don't mind if customers say, 'This is nasty', at least it's a reaction rather than being indifferent. I like dealing with difficult customers.' Does he ever get angry? 'I lose my temper more with myself than with them.' His advertising campaigns have featured real - ie unglamorous - Hong Kong people enjoying GOD's products and were photographed by students at the Polytechnic. 'I work on a regular basis with the students, we're one of the sponsors at the Swire School of Design, and I like working as a team, harnessing that energy.' Now he's asking the public to suggest a visual image to be entitled 'Break Tradition With Tradition' to signify moving away from a piggy-back colonial past to an individual future. 'We want people to talk about us, that's the best form of advertising.' He says that one day he'd love to open a Hong Kong flea market, that he'd love to do a magazine (as he did when he was a pupil at Diocesan Boys' School), that he'd love to open a restaurant. 'Terence Conran said that he's very good at starting things but then he gets bored, and I suspect that I'm like that too.' What about a desire to be famous? 'Oh, I'm not famous. It's not about me. It's not an ego trip. I'd like the shop itself to be a baby. We're just the people working to bring it up.'