what I love most about antique shopping, besides the old man stink and farm fresh breakfast, is how even the most "cute" of the products are also creepy and sinister looking. You try on some old shoes with the knowledge of how it probably belonged to a dead person, and it's hard to not get kinda philosophical. I get excited thinking about the history behind the items (like the maker was toiling away in his shop and then caught small pox and then the apprentice had to take over at the tender age of 14) and maybe some dead skin cells of the consumer too... and it makes money jump out of my wallet like maggots on
casu marzu cheese.