How is that even possible? We're talking about an apartment in Paris. Did nobody ever drop by or, you know, break in? How could this apartment wind up frozen in time like this?
Well, imagine it's 1940 and the Nazis are coming. Not "There's a menacing wartime chill in the air and everyone wonders what Hitler's up to," but "Oh s**t, the Nazis are coming, like, right now!" If you're like one Ms. de Florian, you're getting the hell out of there. She packed her necessities, locked the door of her Paris flat, headed for the South of France, and never came back.
"Crap, I think I left the key in the- you know what, f**k it. Forgot about that whole Nazi thing."
Now, here's where things got interesting. Most of us would have eventually rented a U-Haul to come back for our stuff, even if our stuff was crappy. A handful of people might have given up on the apartment altogether. Not de Florian. She just kept paying the rent on her locked apartment ... for seven damn decades. While she was going to the Cannes Film Festival or sunbathing in the nude or doing whatever it is that people do in the South of France, de Florian's Paris apartment turned into a monument to dust and indifference. It wasn't until she died at age 91 and her heirs tried to sort out her finances that anyone remembered that the apartment was even there.
The manager of the estate found that everything was exactly as de Florian had left it, and this wasn't some run-of-the-mill Parisian studio apartment, either. De Florian was a wealthy collector, but a weird one, as evidenced by her Mickey Mouse toy and stuffed ostrich.
Yeah, we said "weird," but not one of us here at Cracked would turn that baby down if it were offered to us.