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Who's there? Its a thrift store that sells the clothes of dead people (which, I realize, many already do).
However, this idea would work in one of both of the following ways:
1) Pricing by Method of Death: In this scenario, family members must provide an official certificate of death or obit clipping
that describes how the previous owner of the pants/shirt/etc went. Stroke pants may fetch $35 bucks at resale. Fatal familial insomnia? Man-o-man, we're talking $500-1000.
2) Celebration of Life Method: In this scenario, donors include a history of the decease's lifetime accomplishments, life lessons, philosophies, etc. The Market and Personal Psychology will set the prices for these as people will identify with similar personalities and/or the aspirations of the previous owners and see that as value in the pants.
*death/life info could be displayed on a collectible "toe tag" attached to the clothes*
[update 8/11: A more tame version of this would be to have the donors sign up voluntarily, while still living, to have their clothes donated to the store(like organ donors). They could fill out their own toe tags with all the info they want future random strangers to know about them.]
A Dirty Job
http://www.amazon.c...d=1187199010&sr=8-1
Say! That new jacket has soul, man! [Noexit, Aug 15 2007]
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'scuse me miss, are these pants R.I.P.-ed? |
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Very bad, creapy, evil idea, even for my taste. Not getting on this ride [-] |
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....but where would you go to get a
plaid suit ? A most excellent idea, and
welcome to the Bakery mr/ms [froso] + |
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A friend and I attended our University ball in Dead Men's Suits, where everyone else was in rented tuxedos and the like. I think we had about 12% more fun than everyone else. |
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Actually, with the rise of fashions based on the clothing of criminals and gangs, I'm surprised not to have seen clothing with pre-made bullet holes and bloodstains to give the impression, for example, that the shirt you're wearing is a memento from a close friend's violent gang-related death. |
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Maybe you are not old enough to remember the Punk Era, but at all the clubs everyone wore ripped up and stained clothes to look like they came out of a fight. |
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This is the Murder/Suicide House Real Estate idea, but with beltloops. |
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Just stopping by to feed the autoboner[+] |
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Would they have any pants from a guy who'd beaten his cancer only to be hit by a bus on the way home from the hospital? They'd be self-irony. |
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<looking through discount bin when approached by salesman "Yes, sir. These pants are half off because their original owner was run over by a train..." > |
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For some reason, I can't help imagining this store next to a shady restaurant with a palm-greasing relationship with the health inspection and a daily special on "mystery meat burgers". |
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What would be creepy is, if the same pants kept showing up again and again and again... |
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ooh, kind of like the website where you can register a dollar bill and see where it's been? interesting... |
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[evilpenguin521, Beep] Check the update and maybe your hatin' might be quelled a bit. The point of this is 1) to have people (customers of the store) look at dead people's lives with curiosity and also hopefully gain more empathy for people who are still living. 2) we're all gonna die. humor is a great way to cope with tragedy.
[Canuck] those irony pants would be wicked valuable. [2 fries shy of happy meal] Nice! |
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You could have it next to a psychic / fortune teller shop and see whether different items change your destiny.... |
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this idea feels nasty, like moldering clothing falling off a cadavre. i don't like it. sorry, [frosticles]. |
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Pretty cool idea. I might like to know that my new, utterly tacky polyester suit was formerly owned by a university physics professor. |
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In the second house to the right at the entrance
to the small village of Yishii, where I used to live,
an old man was very sick and his son called the
doctor from the nearby town of Bet Shemesh. |
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It was 11:30 when the doctor arrived, and stayed
till 2:30am, checking the patient and seeing that
he has only an hour or two more to live. |
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"Listen" said the doctor, "I'm giving you this signed
death certificate with the name, date and
everything filled in, except the time. You can fill
that in yourself, there's no need for me to stay." |
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The next morning, the old man woke up and went
out to work in his field, knowing nothing about
the past night. And for the next 7 years, proudly
lived with his death certificate hanging on the
wall. |
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