As a general rule, used things give me the heebie jeebies. Put me into a vintage clothing store, and watch me mentally unravel as I stand stick straight to avoid touching the origin-unknown apparel that inevitably protrudes into my personal space and begs my claustrophobia to send me running for air free of stale lint. My neurosis  prevents me from looking great in the unique pieces my friends always seem to find. My neurosis extends to other, similar areas as … Continue reading →