Trying to pin Tom Dixon down is like trying to catch a minnow in a pond: as soon as you think you've got him in your grasp, he's off somewhere else.

Whether it's Helsinki or India, London or Milan, or even just around his office, Dixon seems to be constantly on the move. At work he winds his way from one meeting to another, dons his strangely checked over-jacket and white motorcycle crash-helmet as he ambles out through the door, only to appear moments later at his desk. Then you look around again and he is reclining on a chaise, engrossed in his laptop.

Dixon doesn't rush around chaotically, he just seems to morph from zone to zone, and when he is talking about his work and what inspires him, you get the impression that's the way his mind works, too. He first made design headlines in the Eighties with his sinuous S-chair, and again with the iconic Jack Lamp. Since 1997 he has been the creative director of Habitat, and soon after started a company under his own name with business partner David Begg. This not only designs and produces furniture and lighting, but also has an interior-design arm which has worked with Soho House, Sony and a range of other international clients.

Something of a maverick, Dixon readily admits to being impatient and not great on detail, but he is nevertheless a paid-up practitioner of lateral thinking. "I enjoy going to factories," he says. "On a recent trip to India I went to a see a firm that makes Thermos flasks. Flasks have such a British connotation; that whole thing of taking your tea with you and keeping it warm.

"There was also something magical about seeing the mirrored and double-skinned inside of a flask, and how that structure makes it work, and that process makes me think, What if ­ what if you changed that, or did this instead of that? If, instead of using the vacuum technique to keep something warm, you could use it to contain the heat and keep the outer surface cool, perhaps for a lampshade?" The thought process continues as the shining innards of an Indian vacuum flask sit on his desk like a silver trophy.

Design wasn't Dixon's first choice of career; it came about by default rather than desire. "I'd left art school, and was playing bass guitar in a band called Funkapolitan when I broke my arm in a motorbike accident, so couldn't play for a while. During that time off a friend showed me how to weld, so I could do repairs and maintenance on my bike. Working with metal appealed to me because you can be less than perfect. If you cut wood you're stuffed; you're committed to a shape or design. But metal is more forgiving.

It can be bent and manipulated; you can weld bits on or cut them off.

"Also, there is something intrinsically British about metal; it is part of the country's heritage of engineering. I'm interested in the techniques and drive behind the industrial revolution and how it shaped the country — the bridges, machines and engines that are still part of the landscape. Although I'm a rubbish engineer, I often go to the mathematics section of the Science Museum. I find the geometric models compelling, and it makes me wish I had been good at maths. I visit museums more than most people I know." Dixon's affinity with metal can be seen in his New Metals collection, to be launched at the Milan Furniture Fair next week, where the tubular Pipe Light, with its anodised interior, and the stainless steel Wire Chair, inspired by the paperclip, will be unveiled. Also, on the softer side, is the Slouch chaise, which is upholstered in a quilted material. According to Dixon, this idea came from "Train spotters' anoraks and classic Chesterfield sofas".

Although a purveyor of contemporary design, Dixon himself focuses on traditional quality rather than the must-have, latest thing. "I like shoes," he admits, "but prefer well-made shoes to fashion statements. In fact, I don't own a pair of trainers, and when I play squash I do so barefoot. I fantasise about having custom-made shoes. I got as far as arranging to give a chandelier to a cobbler in return for making me a last, but the business closed before the deal was done. I still like to do business that way, to barter." Like his predilection for classic shoes, Dixon's choice of transport also owes more to the past than the present, although he does admit to being impressed by the self-balancing Segway. "The only way to run a business in this city is to be in control of your own travel arrangements," he says.

"You can do twice as much if you are independent of public transport — it's about achieving accessibility." Dixon chooses to wend his way around town on either his Moto Guzzi T3 California, or a custom-built adaptation of an Eighties Colnago Pista "Mexico" track bicycle with Campagnolo frame and star pista hubs. This slimline machine, altered and perfected by Kadiv Girey, touches on Dixon's interest in fine-tuning and improving. "It has a hand-made aluminium frame stripped down to the minimal components, then we added the best from other bikes, such as different pedals and pieces to make it even more efficient." The rubber band is another item that has interested the designer. "There can be a great deal of complexity in design, but humble everyday objects have their place. Rubber bands are a natural product made of latex. When I was a kid I used to collect and build them up into balls, use them to twang paper darts across the classroom, and also to wind up the propellers on model aeroplanes. Then I thought they would be a great way to upholster a chair.

Rubber bands have give, so they make a supportive but comfortable back and base, and you can easily change them to another colour to suit a different room scheme. The standard Ryman rubber band perishes in UV light, so we made a thicker, more resilient band that can be pulled over a simple metal chair frame. I also like the fact that people can upholster the chair any way they like using things like bootlaces or Scoubidous. They can dress the chair themselves and that makes my life simpler." Carrying on in a natural-product-and-eco-friendly theme, Dixon highlights bamboo as one of the materials of the 21st century. "On a recent trip to China I ate bamboo, and I drank it in Sweden where it was being used as a sort of coffee substitute. Bamboo is an amazing plant: it can grow up to a metre a day, is highly sustainable and has incredible strength. I've been working on a range of furniture using bamboo, and it is lightweight but very sturdy."

And after all the industry, metal, bikes and rubber bands, Tom Dixon's final choice of inspirational objects is a carved wooden figure of a pregnant body. "I was on a sourcing trip for Habitat with a charity near the Mozambique border trying to find a certain type of basket. We found the village where the makers were, but it was very primitive. There was no infrastructure to cope with transportation or finances, so the scheme didn't take off, but that trip made me think a lot more about what matters. On the last day there we went to a market in Tanzania, and I found this figure — it's a simple but realistic primitive object that captures the nature of reproduction." And with that down-to-earth appreciation Tom Dixon goes off to a meeting with a manufacturer, while checking the floor plans for the stand at Milan.

As I say, he never stays still for long.

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