I wouldn't call it a haunt exactly, but one of the places I pop my head into of an occasional lunch-break is the second-hand music store, Lawsons. (On Pitt St behind World Square, snuggled in comfortably between porn & liquor outlets - highly likely in that neighbourhood)
The clientele is pretty well exclusively 50-something guys - thickening waistlines, thinning hair - trying to look nonchalant as they click at impressive speed with practiced fingers through hundreds of CD's in minutes. They can assess in microseconds whether that row of 70's psychobilly has that lost treasure which has been their quest - their El Dorado - that will send the rush of recognition through their synapses, resurrecting their youth if only for a fleeting breath.
I mostly like to go to the back where they store the vinyl, and indulge in the 12" artwork.
Of course, the demographic means that, I have to admit, I fit right in.
Which makes this picture so remarkable - never seen a woman in there ever - and when one appears, it's the chick from Ghostworld! Maybe it all makes sense.