But if there was, it would have something to do with those big dangly things.
I can just image living in a place like this. Cold and dusty concrete floors, musty smelling vintage cases, creepy wedding photos of people I don't know, draughty windows, smacking my head on horrifically low hanging chandeliers, and plaster hitting me as it falls of the walls in the middle of the night.
It would be romantic.
One might even say, romantically rustic.