Best Of :: Shopping & Services
We all have an a-hole in our life — that one dickbag who doesn't have any discernible needs. And it's not necessarily that they have it all, it's just that they have nothing for me to give them. For them, there is We Are 1976. It's a random store where everything is super well-designed, cute, artsy, awesome, bone-able, etc. They have porcelain feathers, abacus necklaces, gigantic papier-mâché cat heads, designer toys, bamboo place settings and on and on. Truly something for everyone. Even jerk-offs.
f. is for frank, but we're inclined to say f. is for freaking awesome fashion. Shannah Frank and Casey Melton create hand-cast pewter jewelry, decorative hardware and more in their Design District studio. Jewelry designs are tough but incredibly elegant and often inspired by nature — hickory nuts, sea sponges, peacocks, horse teeth, rubber, wood and more in pewter and gold- and rose gold-plate. Perhaps the most exciting aspect of f. is for frank's jewelry is the attention to scale: from oversized cocktail rings and collar necklaces to teensy, delicate charms and simple bands. Though dramatic, the pieces are executed flawlessly thanks to the duo's experience in architectural elements and design. Housewares and hospitality offerings venture into more literal territory, but are still beautifully crafted, providing new life to drawers and doors, place settings and even Christmas trees. f. also provides custom services ranging from furniture to lighting to sculptural pieces. Frank and Melton share the love by hosting DIY workshops and parties and by proving a constant presence in the local Etsy and artisan fair community.
The Wald Front Wire Basket, for about 20 bucks, has been the classic American bicycle basket for almost a century — big and sturdy enough for a load of groceries, a small dog or a very frightened cat. Don Johles Bike World has the Wald front and back steel baskets along with 10 pages of other cool baskets on its web page, from techno to retro, including the Sunlite Quick Release Rattan Basket, which looks a lot like the basket Miss Gulch used when she took Toto away from Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Good selection in the brick-and-mortar store too.
This is an easy place to miss, so you need to slow down and really look for it. In an old yellow house tucked way back on a long gravel driveway between the Taco Bell and Goody Goody Liquor, Sunshine Trees is a longtime survivor from the semi-rural hippie days of Upper Greenville. Founded in 1965, Sunshine's main specialty is bonsai — the tiny Japanese miniatures grown in bowls — but they also carry a line of exotic citrus, miniature lime, orange and lemon, that can survive well, if properly tended, on apartment balconies in Texas. Some of the plants at Sunshine are imported from Central America and Asia, but more are grown from seed in a 7,400-foot greenhouse that is open to the public. Even if you're not in the market for a tree, this is a cool place to visit on a slow weekend.
In Dallas we have no shortage of antique stores/old-skin-flake collectors. But we only have one Junkadoodle. Bettyann and Jimbo's Junkadoodle is a collection of the unusual — furniture, art, lamps, knickknacks, tiny floppy hats, oversized stiff hats, etc. — but it's a special collection. Seriously. Their shit is good. In other stores you'll pick up the nude-y ashtray, touch its nipples, giggle and put it back. But in Bettyann and Jimbo's you'll pick up a far more sophisticated version and realize you need to own it. Like now. That's the difference. B&J's is well-curated, easy to navigate and on the way to Love Field. Every now and then they even hold a flea market out front. And in his spare time, Jimbo will teach you to dance. Formal dance only. None of that booty bumpin'.
Still mourning the demise of Ahab Bowen? Rejoice, for Michael Longcrier is risen and has taken his baubles, bangles and bow ties to Dolly Python, which is owned by his protégé Gretchen Bell. This is value-added for a longtime favorite among vintage shoppers and now there's another treasure to hunt for in racks full of fabulousness — look for tags with "AB." Dolly Python is a vortex of vintage, full-immersion shopping. The clothing racks pull you in — perhaps a circa 1970s hostess skirt, a vintage Elvis Costello T-shirt or a pair of gem-encrusted white plastic sandals. Then, an irresistible magnetic pull draws you through the cluttered aisles. Pause to flip through the vinyl at Big Bucks Burnett's booth, fondle a ceramic cowboy, consider some bad art, peer at photos of someone's dour long-forgotten ancestors. Bet you can't leave empty-handed.