Armazém wasn’t just a vintage shop.
It was a large, oversized warehouse full of slightly dusty, yet endlessly fascinating pieces.
Old postcards. Curios. Photographs. Suitcases and stacks of books. Delicate jewelry boxes and old toys.
And a bar.
Not an actual bar for sale, but a place to drink as you wandered through the pockets of treasures.
10/10 old steamer trunks I considered checking as extra baggage.