I love antiques. Items that have been used for and survived decades and centuries, use and abuse. The stories I can read in the scratches and cuts and burn scars and spots from hand wear. The repairs, good and bad. It is like tallking to some old person who still has glitter in their eyes and a chuckle in their throat, about when they tricked the mayor or hunted that enemy soldier.
The next person does not approve of anything but new items.