The other day I walked through a library stack containing some century-old books. And they smelled nice, "very nize." There I stood, surrounded by books about early airships, dirigibles, and aeroplanes. The scent of leather bound covers and the yellowed pages brought back the time Mark and I were in the Egyptian Wing of the British Museum with all those exquisite stone specimens of Ozymandian might. Thank goodness temptation in the form of a hot scholar did not grace the stacks. (Yes, I did start humming "Sexy Nerd" to myself....)
And Mark doesn't like the bookshelf in our bedroom.
(On a side note, apparently, old books smell nice because... sometimes they smell nice. Very nice.)