Shopping & Services

Whether you get yours rimmed with muscle-bound hunks or Vargas girls; trimmed in granite or wood; garnished with leaf reliefs or rhinestone studs; Near and Far has the frames that will make your snapshots pop.

Taking a high school hockey team into the Players Bench is asking for trouble. As their eyes go wide and they take in their surroundings, it’s likely that a few might begin to drool, and after a few seconds, all pretense of decorum is abandoned. Players race through the store trying on every piece of equipment that isn’t stapled to a display dummy, and that’s a lot of equipment to get thrown around. Players Bench, one of the largest hockey-equipment retailers in the Dallas area, can outfit entire teams in helmets, gloves, pants, jock straps…well, maybe not those, but the point is they have a plethora of equipment in different colors, sizes and brands. You want the new Easton Synergy? Forget the expensive rink pro shops and take a trip to Richardson to get the best equipment on the market for a great price.

We have a friend who has tried out all the dating services. She is professional, mid-30s and has had a varied degree of success with each. Most of the time the dates turn out OK, sometimes not so much. But she and others we’ve talked to have nothing but good things to say about the hard-asses at It’s Just Lunch. The service, which helps set up professionals on low-risk dates (lunch or early drinks after work, never dinner), does a lot of prescreening, which helps them know who needs to be matched up with whom. When you’re payin’ to find a mate, the least you can ask of the folks is to thoroughly grill the meat you might eat.

Don’t want to take our word on it? Fine, then take Allure magazine’s, which recently named colorist J.T. Osgood one of the best colorists around. This is no surprise, as this tony, ‘spensive (but worth it) salon in Snider Plaza has long been known as one of the best of its kind in town. As well, The Dallas Morning News‘ Alan Peppard recently named Bruce Osgood one of the 10 best-dressed men in Dallas. So you get to see that, too.

Not sure how so many brand-new, still-shrinkwrapped, kick-ass discs end up in the “used” bin at CD Source. And guess what? We don’t really care. Even with Universal’s recent decision to drop CD prices, you can’t beat getting a $9 copy of the latest, say, Mary J. Blige disc the same week it’s out. You can’t. Seriously. Don’t even try. Wait, what’re you doing? What’d we just say? Don’t make us get out of this chair. It won’t be pretty.

In college, we’d lock ourselves in the journalism department’s darkroom, crank up the classic rock station and print black-and-white photos until the wee hours of the morning. While the other students were doing beer bongs, we were inhaling the sweet aroma of developer, toner and Photo-Flo. Nowadays, the cost of setting up a personal darkroom–and the recurring nightmare of our dog plundering the boxes of photo papers–is prohibitive. That’s why we were glad to hear about Dallas Darkroom, a photo studio and darkroom that’s open to the public. You can drop by to print some photos or develop a roll of B&W, or you can call to reserve the photo studio and lighting equipment (all at hourly rates). The staff also offers classes for beginners and advanced photography students.

Nothing’s too good for our newborn, which is why we’re willing to spend a small fortune on small clothes that’ll be good for a short amount of time–a few weeks, maybe a couple of months if we’re lucky. This Lakewood store is the place to shop for those who want to pamper their Pampers-wearer: The racks are lined with beautiful import clothing (Petit Bateau, especially, which costs a fortune but lasts forever, or until Junior can hold his head up unassisted), the shelves are stacked with blankets so soft and sumptuous you’ll fight the kiddo for ’em and the walls are decorated with the kinds of accessories and knickknacks you read about in those British baby magazines in which Damon Albarn and David Beckham are always pictured looking like the coolest dads that side of the Atlantic. Mostly we shop here so one day we can tell our boy, “We bought all your clothes at Bebe Grand, and look at the thanks we got.” Guilt, it’s priceless.

This little puppy has survived the Petco invasion and is doing just fine, thank you, mostly because of the array of treats and specialty foods, combined with good service and other benefits (like top-notch dog grooming), you can find here. If you’re not in East Dallas, it’s a bit of a jaunt, but your widdle puppy wuppy is worf it, ain’t he, ain’t he now, good boy, good boy, yes you are, yes you are…

Whether you were born a woman or paid thousands of dollars to become one, Electrique Boutique has shoes in your size. Likewise, whether you need new kicks for dancing to jazz at the Samba Room or to Kid Rock tunes onstage at Baby Dolls, this store can hook you up. You’ll find SMU girls trying on platform sandals with beaded straps sitting next to drag queens squishing their tootsies into thigh-high, five-inch, red patent leather boots. At Electrique Boutique, you can break a new trend or pick up some heels that would break a lesser woman’s ankles. Just know that if you ask for thongs, you’re not going to be handed a pair of rubber flip-flops.

We never walk out of Lula B’s without something. We may find it in a booth near the doors; we may find it in the back corner with all the farmhouse-looking kitchen gadgets. It could be a 1950s aluminum pitcher with a Bakelite handle, or it could be an E.T. night-light. But it’s there, and only many, many minutes of walking slowly and craning your neck into the cramped booths will find it. Sure, you could save some time on eBay or by shopping at a department store for stuff you actually need. But this is like a safari, and a safari without effort is just a zoo.

It’s pretty much guaranteed that when you first visit “the Pig,” you’ll immediately make a plan to introduce the shop to someone else. The sign says “Home, Garden, Gifts, Stationery,” and while all those things are there, what it really should say is, “We have a gift for most anyone.” Co-owners (and sisters) Mona Kanther and Laura Robbins have stocked their store with an impressive variety. They offer bath goodies such as the Bella line; garden statues, arches, fencing embellishments and planters; a room full of very sweet baby things; our favorite Circle E candles that burn forever; and handcrafted jewelry, some of which is made by local artists. Stationery? Got it. Unusual bird feeders? Got ’em. Outlandish prices? Nope, don’t got ’em. So the lowdown is basically this: Their stuff is awesome, there’s something for every style and we’ve never seen better prices.

Industrial designer Raymond Loewy believed that “good design keeps the user happy, the manufacturer in the black and the aesthete unoffended.” We believe Design Within Reach must have embraced this same maxim when it gathered together some of the best modern home décor and started opening studio locations on both coasts. Known to many fans only by its catalog, DWR’s Dallas studio, which opened in February, is the first location in flyover country. We’ve gone through life dreaming about the Le Corbusier chaise longue, and now we can recline on it. We’ve seen a million Eames knockoffs, but now we can smell and caress the real deal. Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Jean Prouvé, George Nelson–if these names are sweet on your tongue, Design Within Reach will be your candy store.

We always coveted the clothing machine on The Jetsons. You know, the one they could step into and it would put clothes on them that fit, and they could even change the color and design. Here’s something that comes close. At Casa Loco, you can make your own T-shirts. Go to the store, choose a color, choose the correct size and then choose an iron-on design, and a staff member will press it right then and there. So, if you ever wanted a yellow Mr. T shirt or a lavender one with the Planet of the Apes logo, here’s your chance. Or just go with Elvis Costello or David Bowie. They look good with every color.

Ever wonder what happened to those rockin’ concert T-shirts your older brother/cool uncle/baby sitter wore? We’re talking Styx, Journey, KISS, Foreigner, Pink Floyd. Well, they’re at Pandemonium in near-mint condition. Hell, even your little sister’s New Kids on the Block and Tommy Page shirts are here, though it would take some balls–or a very refined sense of irony–to walk out the door with those. One day there will be a Nelson concert T-shirt circa After the Rain. That is, just as soon as we give up hope on marrying Gunnar. Or was it Matthew?

The Labyrinth, located appropriately on Bell Street, is also next to Shake-Rag, the highest-priced musical junk store that exists in the South. So when you pull up to the quaint purple house decked out in wind chimes, don’t hold the eyesore next door against them. You may enter to buy incense for your, um, extracurricular activities, or maybe you need some homemade bath salts for a Sunday soak. Regardless, Mary Jane will greet you with an honest smile when she asks your name. Come around enough times, and she won’t allow your departure without a hug. OK, you’re not the “getting hugged” type, or “being spiritual” type, or “connecting to the higher planes” type. For those readers who are into the hokey-pokey hocus pocus (we know you’re out there), this is the place to get all kinds of goods, including books, candles, stones, herbs, salts and, of course, the best darn incense.

Whatever your video needs, Premiere will, 99 times out of 100, be able to fill them. Want something vintage and foreign, something out-of-print, something not even available yet? Call Premiere. Want something brand-new with Ashton Kutcher? Call Premiere. (But why would you even want to watch such a thing?) Want something from Europe or Asia that hasn’t even been released in the States yet or only hit theaters recently–like, oh, 28 Days Later with that alternate ending? Really, call Premiere. Premiere has everything and then some, including those multiregion DVD players, for rent or purchase, that allow you to watch copies of BBC shows you’ve never heard of and Thai movies you’ll never know about unless you ask the staff to suggest something new and cool. So let there be no misunderstanding: Call Premiere.

When faced with finding a new hairstylist, panic undoubtedly ensues. The hair is, after all, a key detail in one’s look and personal style. More than a year ago, Roman filled in when our regular stylist was out. He fashioned a seductive, flirty ‘do that we coveted. But when our pocketbook was padded enough to allow for a little pampering, we couldn’t find him at the old salon. We called everyone we knew who could have information, searched the Web and finally resorted to driving in the general area where one tip placed him. Yes, he’s that good. After years of botched haircuts, there were only two people we allowed to come within feet of our hair, and with one now retired, Roman’s our guy. Get a cut and color (say goodbye to irritating multiple appointments) in a comfy space from a stylist who makes each customer feel like the only customer. His credentials include photo shoots with Kristin Davis and models of the highest caliber…and we feel like one after he’s worked his magic. Guys: One male staffer said Roman worked wonders on his unruly hair, too.

The rule is don’t go to a stylist with bad hair. We say don’t trust a piercer who doesn’t have any piercings. That’s definitely not a problem at Skin & Bones, but that’s not the only reason to choose this place. It’s clean. The prices are fair. And even if the piercing artists aren’t sporting the style you want, they can tell you about it or possibly even show you on the gray foam rubber models of body parts. Never seen a female genital piercing? Well, here’s the place to see one without having to tip a dancer or feeling (too) embarrassed. It’s right there in the case near the candy-colored navel rings and large-gauge ear jewelry.

Truth is, the term “belly dancing” is a bit of a misnomer. The traditional dance moves actually give the knees and lower back a workout, not the abdominals. Just ask the lovely ladies you’ll find at Egypt World, which houses a diverse supply of belly-dancing gear. In addition to the rookie purchases of silky veils and hip sashes covered in bells or small metal coins, there are also dresses, pants (think I Dream of Jeannie), skirts, bra tops and a wide range of things that go jingle-jingle-jingle when you go shake-shake-shake, including belts, bracelets, anklets and headpieces.

Big, bright, sparkly clean, lots of pumps, with beautiful cashiers and friendly service, yada yada–that’s not why this is the best pit stop. It’s the best for one simple reason: The owner is oddly obsessed with selling the coldest, cheapest beer in Dallas. The beer is already chilled to 36 degrees. As Best of Dallas was going to press, Lakewood Mobil was undergoing major reconstruction to create a special “ice-cave” at the back, where the beer will be chilled to 26 degrees–still liquid, but the bottles might freeze to your fingers. They sell all the hard-to-get cigarettes–Esmir Stingers, Kents, Dunhills–and they have a pretty decent wine selection, too. Not bad for a Mobil, eh?

Pair O’Dice is our best because we trust them with our own bodies. It’s almost the official tattoo parlor of the Observer staff. We go here; we bring our friends. We tell strangers to come here when we find them gawking at us in line at the grocery store. Get the hint? Come here. To us, trust is a key element in tattooing. You’re paying someone to permanently scar your body. And the folks at Pair O’Dice can do that. Lots of other people can, too. But here you’ll feel at home, always have a say in what they’re doing and never feel intimidated. If you look nervous, you’ll get teased…and possibly placed in a headlock. No, really, it helps. In addition to the artistry of Richard Stell, Deb Brody, Josh Robinson, J.P. Morin and Casey Cokrlic, there is also plenty of wacky stuff on the walls and loud tunes on the stereo to keep you distracted.

Hang out in the metro music-scene nightlife long enough, and you’ll realize one thing. It feels like there’s just as many struggling musicians in the city as there are peeps in China’s army. “Feel” is the key word, word. Where is the coolest place shaggy-haired melody makers can find some cash flow to go along with sudden inspiration? We’re assuming a gig at Guitar Center. There’s nowhere else drummers get a head at cost and guitarists may play with more bodies than fingers know what to do with. For musicians cool enough to embrace a setting full of instruments as a way to maintain a lifestyle, Guitar Center is a home away from home. Guess that applies to those other musicians, too, plucking away in offices full of every instrument known to mankind besides the musical ones. Or for people new to instruments who just have an urge to play one. OK, we admit it, Guitar Center is for everyone. “Stairway to Heaven” riffs or unknown musical masterpieces, they’ll let you play; maybe you’ll like it enough to pay, and since the folks answering your questions know a thing or two about the craft, you’re in good hands.

When we visited Junkadoodle for the first time, it was not on purpose. We were searching for another address and in the process saw what we are now lauding for Best Junk. We have to admit that it was the name that sucked us in–and the fact that the sign out front was designed with bubbly purple letters. In case you were wondering, we are also the kind of people who buy books based simply on their covers. Shallow, maybe, but sometimes you pick a winner–as was the case with Junkadoodle. This shop is filled with all sorts of goodies, from antique furniture to artwork to a bowl filled with buttons. And despite the name, “junk” is not really apropos of the store’s contents. Maybe it’s that whole “another man’s trash” thing, or maybe we’re just incredibly cheap, but we think Junkadoodle is more treasure than anything else.

You spend a lot of money on a suit, wear it a few times, have it dry-cleaned and suddenly it just doesn’t look, or even fit, like new. It’s all in the pressing. Sam Cox knows a lot about pressing; his establishment has been doing it superbly since 1961. “First, we use no air-operated equipment that smashes clothes and actually creates wrinkles and shows seam impressions. Unlike most, our presses have cloth heads on both sides to prevent shine.” According to Cox, it’s all in the details. “If you set the collar properly, the lapels will fall properly, and there will never be a wrinkle between the shoulders in the back. And we never press with the pocket flap down, which can make an indentation that ruins the look of the whole jacket. We take the time to press the flap separately.” You pay for what you get: Cleaning and pressing run $13.60 for a suit, $9.25 for a jacket and $6.60 for a pair of pants. Pressing alone costs 25 percent less. Cox’s clients, including Neiman Marcus and the clientele of several of Dallas’ leading custom tailors, agree that it’s worth it.

Cool is hardly good enough to describe the 16th- to 19th-century antiquarian prints and rare maps you will find at Beaux Arts. The prints are of botanicals, natural history and architecture and can really class the place up (more so than the college posters). The gallery sells huge maps of Texas and elsewhere from the 18th and 19th centuries. Some of the maps show old borders and railroad routes. They will also frame the prints. Prices vary widely, but some prints are surprisingly affordable.

Don’t know about you, but discount liquor stores don’t mean a thing when cheapo Wild Turkey’s the best they can stuff in a bag. It’s all about selection, baby, and this warehouse-sized Deep Ellum liquor paradise has just about every brand of booze you can imagine–from the inexpensive hooch to the vintage Dom you can touch but never actually afford. And since the place buys in bulk–seems to, anyway–the prices remain lowlowlow, which means you can make your Maker’s Mark without emptying the wallet and even try some exotica titles without feeling like you went to Vegas and got busted on fifth street. The beer selection’s awfully chill as well–literally and otherwise–with an entire wall-sized fridge stocked with bottles and sixers and cases of brew from all across the state, country and world.

It’s tough to choose a chain over a mom-and-pop store, but for selection of children’s books, Barnes & Noble is tops. Any book the store doesn’t have on its shelf, it can get pretty darn quickly. They’ve got all the classic stories and even the latest favorites. When asked about a copy of a certain popular children’s book series, one independent bookstore operator said it could be several weeks or longer before any arrived. Barnes & Noble had several copies in stock, and its kids corner seemed to have as many titles as the specialty stores do.

Fair quotes. Nice, quick work. No false salesmanship. What more could you ask for in your vehicle’s time of need? They actually did a little repair on our jalopy–a bashed mirror and a dent–while we waited in a nearby Exposition Park coffee shop. An advice-giving relative once said you can judge an auto body shop by its cleanliness and the kinds of cars it services. Our Honda was one of the few cars on the lot retailing for less than 30 grand. And the shop is spotless. Owner Alex Gonzalez set up in this up-and-coming neighborhood back in the dark days of 1991. Chances are he’s the guy you’ll meet when you drive up.

We’re not certain what constitutes health food these days, but this growing national chain was here first, and some of us are eternally grateful. Good fresh produce, bins of raw grains, organic everything and one of the nicest selections of natural soaps–including a cheap and serviceable store brand–and scented candles mean we haven’t surrendered completely to last year’s winner: newcomer Central Market. As serial coffee drinkers, we’re always impressed with the bean selection, and at least one nonflavored variety is usually on sale. No doubt a little competition will make these guys a bit better.

These days, when animal rights are being elevated to the level of human rights, shouldn’t you take every step to ensure that your pets are treated with the dignity they deserve? If you don’t have the time to give them that dignity because you are out of town, too busy at work or otherwise engaged, the surrogate mom of Probable Claws, Betty Jo Hoxie, is there to meet all the emotional and physical needs of your pets. This “bonded pet-care specialist” will pet-sit little Fluffy at your home or hers; she will make a play date for a walk in the park, permit her a much-needed potty break or just give her some human face time in her own back yard. Besides dogs, Probable Claws also services the needs (including poop scooping) of cats, fish, fowl, rodents and snakes. And they do it in such a nonjudgmental way, you never feel guilty for not being there yourself.

DSW has various locations, but the Preston Road store is our fave, with its rock-star boots, clunky clogs, dainty sandals and even some Kenneth Cole dress shoes for the guys. Name brands abound, and with the self-serve setup, there’s no guilt from sending salespeople back and forth to the stock room. What’s more, the whole experience offers a sense of bonding with other shoe fanatics. Not once have we been to DSW and not asked a total stranger, or been asked by one, “What do you think of these?” The clearance section beats all (except maybe Nordstrom Rack) with an array of sizes and styles to satisfy every member of your shoe-shopping squadron. Shoppers swarm on weekends, so if you take sanity with your shopping, go on a weekday or weekend evening. The true shoe whore values the waist-high displays for quick scanning and the plethora of mirrors for the necessary one-legged examination. Don’t be surprised (the clerk won’t be) when you head to the checkout with four-plus pairs of kick-ass Sex and the City-worthy kicks.

There was a time–before most of us at the Observer were born–when it wasn’t enough for a gas station to sell gas. It needed a little something extra: a petting zoo, a reptile display or (a favorite from that trip to the Grand Canyon back in 1966) a full set of 20-foot-tall Flintstones characters complete with an oversized replica of Fred’s log car. Decades later, the spirit of the roadside attraction is alive and well downtown at Fuel City, where they’ve moved in a herd of genuine Texas longhorn cattle, a fake pump jack and some nice cactuses native to parts nowhere close to here. Country music on the loudspeakers and a Ponderosa-style store/taco stand only enhance the mood. For the big kids, there’s a handy drive-up beer window with a killer selection. Gas, beer and cows–now that’s some fine Lone Star living.

This must be hard times for independent retailers of high-end fashion, particularly when clothes can be marked down for next to nothing at chain stores such as the Gap, knockoffs make function secondary to form and folks just don’t have the bucks to shell out for designer labels. How Harry DeMarco (H.D. himself) weathers the economic storm is a testament to his good design sense, entrepreneurial instincts and indomitable personality, which makes shopping at H.D.’s feel more like schmoozing with a close friend. No uptown suits are sold here, just cutting-edge shirts, sweaters, shoes, pants and jeans. For decades, Harry and his true love, Vicky, who runs the nearly adjacent H.D.’s for women, have built up a devoted customer base and brought Europe back to Dallas for the hip and hip hopefuls. And they have done it with the kind of high style that will charm the pants right off you. Or right on you.

Walk into the white-on-white wonder that is The Apple Store, and be forewarned: You will buy something. It will be sleek. It will be silver or white. It will be so effin’ cool you’ll want to take pictures of it and hang them in your hallway. It will have an “i” in front of its name (iPod, iMac), but if you are trying to justify the expense to your spouse, best to change that up a bit. (“No, honey, I got it for both of us. It’s a wePod.”) Now, you can tell yourself that you’re too practical to pay top-of-the-line prices for computers and their accessories. Sure, you can. We did the same thing. Oh, have you seen our Titanium PowerBook?

Face it: You’ve been addicted to customizing every corner of your life ever since you installed aftermarket neon tire valve cap lights on your Olds Delta 88. Now you can customize your own body fluids, too, with body lotions, bath oils, massage creams, bath sprays and shower gels–among other toiletry oozes and goops–tailor-made to your specifications. Choose from more than 100 fragrances and virtually any color your eyes can detect–even neon green to match those spinning tire cap lights.

Cotton Island offers enough glitz, goof and glam to make up for the ferocious Snider Plaza parking. It’s a fun store, and at first glance, one might think it’s all too young and flirty. The boutique is young and flirty, but it also offers a great selection of wardrobe staples such as Michael Stars shells, Mavi jeans and Baked Beads earrings. It’s one of those places where customers should try on before they write off the look as too immature. Some of the pieces (mesh tops by Just in Time, for instance) look fantastic coupled with a power suit and heels, and a vintage-wash denim skirt could replace that suit skirt and liven up a sales meeting without going too Carrie Bradshaw. The shop also offers dorm-room décor, an expanse of seasonal shoes (brands such as Rocket Dog, Puma and more) and some seriously fabulous gaudy-chic jewelry. Moms: Take your daughters–and we want to see both of you in the dressing room.

At what point did the scourge of childhood–being forced to wear clothing already used by someone else, usually a sibling–become so cool that people will pay $30 for a thrift store-quality, ironic T-shirt? No, really, we need a date. We’ll go back in time and open a chain of stores like Counter Culture. The stylists–“cashiers” or “clerks” doesn’t do them justice–pick only the best to put on hangers and affix with pretty little price tags. It’s like the best of Goodwill, color-coded for your convenience.

Rent generally is not the happiest check to leave our tight wallets, but there is one leasing company that makes us glad each month. Since their signs have been cropping up more and more in Dallas neighborhoods, rental units owned by the family business have seen improvements in façades, tenants and amenities. Maintenance calls are returned almost immediately (which, in our experience, is unheard of), and the owners themselves follow up on the work. Shady characters are few and far between in the complexes, and the single girl can reside in a Turner property feeling as safe as one can near Lower Greenville and the like.

The workers behind the counter don’t throw the fish around, and you can’t see any blue water, except in snapshots on the wall, but the tidy little market has an excellent selection and outstanding customer service. While grocery-store fish-counter personnel always seem to say everything is fresh and never frozen and then recommend the stiff trout with milk-covered eyes, the workers at TJ’s educate you on how to tell if fish is fresh and offer good recommendations. The goods are flown in daily. The Maine lobster was as tasty as the owner promised, and the store’s smoked salmon could go up against any found in an American Indian gift shop in the Pacific Northwest.

For three years, we were this close to buying patio furniture from Target; the stuff was cheap but not cheap-looking, good enough. But not quite good enough: We stalled long enough to wind up at Sunnyland, which we heard was expensive but worth the price–and not so exorbitant if you scoured the discounted section hidden away in the back, where prices are slashed like tires in a bad neighborhood. The selection is pretty impressive, and so are the prices; these guys are proud of their patio furniture. We almost walked out and cursed ourselves for not shopping at Target after all, which has since ditched the furniture for its back-to-school section, till we stumbled across the oddball stuff kept on the side–the cedar swings and gliders, say, and the other handmade wooden products that look more at home on a rancher’s front porch than a suburban back porch. Our salesman added it up, and after giving us 15 percent off (not an irregular custom here), we realized we could deck out our deck at a not-unreasonable price and make it look a little different from the usual four-chairs-and-a-table–more Giant than Queer Eye for the Straight Guy in the end, but we’re still giddy as schoolboys.

Your house is going to hell and you can’t even find your handbasket, whatever that is. The gate to the fence won’t close, the garbage disposal won’t dispose of anything and your back bedroom could use a serious coat of paint. George Miller is without doubt the guy for you. He is a pest-exterminating, ceiling-fan-installing, door-jamb-adjusting, light-fixture-replacing, house-paint-applying, gizmo/gadget-fixing jack-of-all-trades. A kind-hearted soul, he will attempt to fit you into his busy schedule if he possibly can. If you must be at work when he is scheduled to arrive, rest assured you will be able to trust him with your home and your possessions. If only you felt the same way about the cable guy.

Retro sportswear is what the fashionable are sporting these days, but it can be expensive keeping up with what NBA lottery picks and bling-blinging rappers are wearing. Not everyone can drop a few hundred on a 1970s-era Dr. J replica jersey. If you’ve got a spare $20, however, you can jump on the bandwagon, thanks to Classic Sports Logos, the 3-year-old brainchild of SMU alum Chris Anderson. Through its Web site, the local company sells T-shirts bearing the logos of defunct teams from defunct leagues (American Basketball Association, United States Football League, World Team Tennis and more), each one sweeter than the next. Just browsing the site, we salivated over at least a dozen tees, so maybe you’ll end up breaking the bank anyway. Consider yourself warned and possibly better-dressed.

Most doctors rush through the obligatory two-minute head-nodding, note-scribbling, no-eye-contact exam before turning patients over to a nurse practitioner for treatment. And then they berate you for the few little things that bring meaning and substance to an otherwise miserable existence. You know, drinking, smoking, sexual escapades and big hunks of nearly raw red meat. Well, Dr. Lyla Blake-Gumbs won’t let you off the hook for life-threatening habits either. She does, however, spend time with each patient, listening to their stories, making eye contact, asking questions and the like. It’s the kind of thing that makes other doctors look ineffective, and if her unique approach to health-care delivery ever reaches the American Medical Association, they’ll likely send goons out to lean on her a little, help her see the error of her ways. Until then, she’s the closest thing in the Dallas area to a good old-fashioned country doctor.

Not only does Plano Cycling & Fitness have the brands–Felt, Trek, Specialized, Cannondale–it’s equipped with a knowledgeable staff dedicated to a perfect marriage between body and spoked wheel. Plus the service staff is trained and certified to work on all makes and models, not just the ones the shop hawks. And Plano Cycling supports the sport, sponsoring the Plano Athletic Cycling Club as well as various races and events throughout North Texas.

You don’t actually get charged for the dust. It comes free, a gift with purchase, you could say. We like to think it makes our finds even more authentic. Not only did some kid transport his bologna sandwiches in this Fall Guy lunch box, someone else’s dust is still on it. It’s history, man. But to look inside Millennium is to understand. It’s one big room on a corner in Expo Park, and it’s crammed with stuff. Paintings of butterflies and kids with huge eyes are stacked against couches covered with serving trays holding ashtrays, snow globes and other knickknacks. It’s a pack rat’s heaven and an obsessive-compulsive’s nightmare. We bet Antiques Roadshow would love it as much as we do.

Whenever the runway fashions turn back to the looks of Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn, while the others are running to NorthPark for reproductions created with rayon and machine-made lace, go instead to Ahab Bowen. This is where the originals come to live again. The small rooms in the old house where the store is located have vintage dresses in a variety of colors and sizes, and beneath them are shoes of the same era. Everything is of high quality. No ripped seams or moth holes here. Hats, jackets, cardigans, purses, earrings and necklaces can be found (though some of the accessories are repros). There’s even men’s clothing, but it’s more James Dean than Cary Grant.

Following another marathon of TLC’s essential Trading Spaces, we’ve continually found ourselves full of enthusiasm and…not much else while nursing a grand homeowner “vision.” It’s the kind of scheme that works perfectly within the old gray matter, but if it were to be realistically applied, a catastrophe of Fawlty Towers proportions inevitably would occur. Quality programming or no, Lesson No. 1 is “Don’t get delusions of grandeur from a reality show.” Still, if While You Were Out has you as wrapped-up as it does us, then proceed directly to our best of choice at hand and visit the kind employees of Lakewood Hardware. To the casual eye, this store looks just like any other of its ilk: Well-lit, adequate room and efficient displays rule the day. Still, it’s the expert knowledge and advice from the staff that make a trip somewhat off the beaten path worthwhile. Yes, we know that homemade gazebo complete with Francis Bacon-inspired gargoyles will look fabulous in your back yard, but please, talk logistics with the folks at Lakewood Hardware first.

We know someone–the name begins with “M” and rhymes with “brother”–who still doesn’t own a DVD player. She claims she never will but defends her right to complain that no one carries videocassettes anymore. Lucky for her (and her technophobe brethren), there is one last sanctuary. Movie Trading Company still carries VHS tapes, and used ones are only $5.99. But if you buy four–say, Dirty Dancing, Memphis Belle, Road House and Autumn in New York–then they’re five bucks apiece. There are rows upon rows, because, really, what 15 people don’t need an almost-new copy of Teen Wolf? Let’s just hope this oasis in the desert of DVDs doesn’t dry up. Mom might have to learn to work another scary small appliance.

Because cigar smoking right now is about as hip as official Beanie Baby Club membership, you can actually get your hands on the best smokes from Don Diego, H. Upmann, Romeo y Julieta, Macanudo, Partagas, Hoyo de Monterrey and Punch without suffering from sticker shock. Montfort Cigars has a massive 600-square-foot walk-in humidor stocked with the best brands at terrific prices plus domestic and imported cigarettes and name-brand perfumes and colognes to stamp out the residual stogie stench pervading your clothes and hairpiece.

Like those outlet stores that sell overstocked shoes and underwear, only this store sells groceries. They offer great deals on name-brand food, from breakfast cereal to hot sauce. The store is still new and finding its way, so the stock is a little unpredictable. You probably couldn’t do an entire grocery run here, but you can really save money on what you do find, all well within the expiration dates. Whole-bean coffee is half what it costs in regular supermarkets, for example.

We love Good Records, with its yellow racks with colored light bulbs, in-store performances, magazine selection and barbecues, and we shop there a lot. But we’re cheap bastards, and CD World appeals to this side of us. There are rows and rows of new and used–from Turbonegro to Justin Timberlake–and all the local music that’s fit to print (and sometimes not) with cheap prices all around. Also, CD World is more likely to have something for those gotta-hear-it-now moments, and the knowledgeable staff will be happy–all right, maybe a little surly–to special-order it if you think the fever will stick. But don’t expect live music, unless you count that guy who’s singing along at one of the listening stations.

Take it from someone who recently had a very fruitless search for cool jeans: It’s worth a trip to Jean Connection. Somehow, this shop on Northwest Highway manages to get the sweetest designer jeans before even the hipper-than-thou department stores. They know the trends before they reach the mainstream here, so if you’re the kind who is serious about your denim, make the trip.

Not only can you find every ointment, unguent, lotion, peel and organic skin- or hair-care concoction you’ll need here, but the prices are usually lower than you can find at swankier spots. The really great thing is that there always seems to be a special going on. Whether it’s a free this with your purchase or a free that done to you for coming in, we always feel pampered and prepared when we leave.

We’d walked past it an untold number of times, never once stopping to look inside what appeared to be just another one of those annoying hippie stores that sells incense and plays crap music by Enya. The front windows of downtown’s Musemart advertised “Organic Iced Lattes” and had some funky copper disc thing that obstructed the view of what we had originally thought to be either a 99-year-old yogi in downward dog or a gigantic rain stick. One day, though, while ignoring our duties back at the office, curiosity got the best of us, and we ventured inside. Our first impression of the place couldn’t have been more off. The tiny shop, nestled between greasy spoons and a Korean beauty salon, is an absolute treasure trove of imported and rare art and lifestyle magazines, 50 cent snacks and a collection of vinyl records ranging from bluegrass to trip-hop, new wave to classical. We even came across an original LP of Elvis Costello’s My Aim is True. Not bad for a presumed annoying hippie store. Not bad at all.

Truth is, it isn’t new–and most of the books aren’t. But for a new book-shopping experience, this is the place to try. “We’re a nostalgic place,” says Jim Parker, who owns the business with his wife, Dee. Remember reading Ernest Hemingway’s In Our Time or Jack London’s White Fang? You can find collectors’ first editions, many of them signed by the author, along with autographed copies of favorites by Stephen King, Anne Rice, etc. The prices are a bit steep ($350 for a copy of Mark Twain’s A Tramp Abroad), but browsing is encouraged and enjoyable.

The news was bad. Some faulty wiring had caused a fire that put Mister Tuxedo temporarily out of business in July. But nothing could stop the unflappable Harold Bell, owner, proprietor and grand master of the witty comeback, from reopening as soon as the smoke cleared. He secured a new space close to the old one and has plans of returning to the original storefront as soon as it can be repaired. What Mister Tuxedo offers are quality goods and dependable service. Unlike chain-store rentals, there is never any fear that you might come up a stud short, or that your cummerbund will reveal an unsightly guacamole stain from the previous renter. Whether it’s a wedding, bar mitzvah, high school prom or spring formal for the SMU Greek set, Mister Tuxedo will continue to be the black-tie specialist in town–just as it’s been for the past 40 years.

Metro Retro is like a flashback. A good one–typewriters, Formica tables, vintage rags, Centipede board games and the best in midcentury Christmas décor when the season’s right. Looking at something that may need a little cleanup? Owner Andrea Jennings can probably offer a few tips on re-covering or chrome polishing. She knows her stock better than any other owners specializing in Donna Reed-era collectibles (although Metro Retro does offer other selections from various decades). Walk in and ask. If they’ve got it, you’ll love it. If they don’t have it, don’t worry, because you’ll probably find something better waiting on the shelf. Want an example? We went trolling for a birthday present, looking for a specific action figure. What we got was something better, a figure that was indeed active: a Redd Foxx bobble-head doll. Oh, yeah.

Other stores are too bright, clean and well-kempt to look like Championship Vinyl, the record store John Cusack owned in High Fidelity. But AWOL has that slightly disheveled, dank, grungy feel of home…for music nerds, at least. It also has Cusack character Rob’s sense of categorization. How many genres of punk are there? We’re sure there’s more each time. There’s also usually more junk, too. AWOL is one of the few places where you can pick up that out-of-print Fugazi album and a vintage radio missing a knob and a plug. Ah, just like home.

No other place satisfies kids and the inner child in their parents quite the way Zeus does, with a wide-ranging inventory containing everything from mint-condition artifacts meant to be kept behind glass to newer, cheaper stuff meant to be banged around inside a toy box. Stuffed animals, action figures, Barbies, movie tie-ins, board games, bobbleheads, even the McDonaldland Gang–they’ve got it all and then some.

Vintage movie posters, placards and stills sit next to the latest-release materials in this quiet shop off Interstate 35. Stills and publicity shots are $4 for black-and-white and $5.50 for color, and poster prices run the gamut, offering an inexpensive way to build a shrine to the motion picture…or, in our case, the ultimate mystery man, Alfred Hitchcock. We found posters for Vertigo, Rear Window, The Birds and others for (gasp!) less than $20. We also found the very rare and slightly expensive poster for The Man Who Fell to Earth…totally worth some extra dollars for its pristine condition. The store offers some comics and a few collectibles, postcards and calendars and service from folks who know their film, and love it, too. They even helped us pick out Gary Cooper stuff to make into a scrapbook for our grandmother. They aren’t devoted to only the mainstream and popular pictures in movie history. Think of an obscure film and, most likely, Remember When has something related to it. Now, who’s the winner for Best Framing?

Didn’t you ever want to dig a hole in the back yard, put some water lilies in it, put some fish in it, sit around and look at it? Well, you should, man. What’s the matter with you? Nowadays everybody sells the basic equipment, even Home Depot, but most of the people who sell it have no idea how to do it. The people at Water Gardens Galore originally got into the business by servicing existing ponds. They really know their stuff, and they can tell you how to avoid the pitfalls, such as mosquitoes. (You buy little mosquito-eaters, and it’s no sweat after that.) There’s a little bit of an art to it, and they can tell you what it is. Live in an apartment? You can do a balcony pond. Really. Time to move? Heave-ho over the edge. It’s part of the natural cycle.

Whether you’re a pro or just a weekend hobbyist who loves the eau de toilette of freshly cut grass blended with two-cycle engine emissions, Casey’s has the goods–even those heavy-duty back-mounted leaf blowers that look like flamethrowers (Die, leaf pile! Die!). Casey’s has all the brands that draw lawn grunts–Toro, Honda, Echo, Snapper, Stihl, Shindaiwa, Lawn Boy–and offers pickup and delivery service. Plus the staff is polite, knowledgeable and accommodating, which isn’t easy when your head is humming with a two-cycle weed whacker buzz all day.

Sure, you can buy one of those hardware-store chain saws that are light and dainty and easy to start. But what’s the point? Would you buy a hybrid-electric Harley? You need a big damn chain saw. Loud! You need one of them orange helmets with a visor. You need chain saw chaps. In fact, if you get the orange helmet and the chaps, you might not even need the saw! So don’t go to the hardware store. Go to Gassett, where the real lumberjacks and lumberjills go. They got Stihl (pronounced “Steel,” by the way). They got Echo. The real stuff. Don’t be a chain saw wannabe. Be real! Get Stihl!

So we needed some leather cleaner. Nearly $100 later, we left Elliott’s with things we needed and things we didn’t and were once again assured that this is probably the best hardware store on the planet. Not to be sexist, but the male buying impulse is so well identified and satisfied here that even the cookware looks good. Of course, the formula is simple. High-quality goods are well displayed and backed up by a knowledgeable sales staff. Sure, this is the perennial pick. But to send you anywhere else for the sake of novelty would be untrue to the double-blind-test, peer-review standards we employ in these matters.

Dial-up service is fast becoming antique, but Texas.Net’s $20-a-month home service is the best cheap and reliable Internet access we know of. The 9-year-old Austin-based outfit is a boutique among giants, but the big guys could learn a thing or two from them about service. In five years we’ve never had access or billing problems, and the e-mail is as reliable as it comes. Perhaps the best part is the e-mail address you get on their system: yourstrulytexas.net. Nobody will think you hail from Philadelphia with an address like that. It’s Lone Star all the way.

Comic-book auctions have become quite a lucrative market in recent years, and the king of this particular hill is Dallas’ Heritage Comics Auctions. For example: Last year, when Nicolas Cage decided to sell off his entire comic-book collection–which contained such prize books as Action Comics No. 1 (the first appearance of Superman) and All-Star Comics No. 3 (the debut of the Justice Society of America, the first superhero team)–he went with Heritage. Spider-Man/X-Men/Fantastic Four co-creator Stan Lee also tapped the auction house when he wanted to sell off a sizable chunk of his (obviously) extensive assortment of books. Though Heritage still deals primarily in rare coins, the comic trade made the company more than $10 million since it began dealing in funny books in 2001–and that was before they helped Cage sell his collection. If you’ve got a big wallet rubbing up against a set of Incredible Hulk Underoos, look no further. Oh, and the second-best place? Mark Cuban’s house.

It may be time to retire this category for one simple reason: No one comes close to matching GameStop’s selection of new and used video games and hardware. That’s why this Grapevine-based company, with more than 1,300 stores nationally, is a perennial winner in Best of Dallas. The clerks know their merchandise; the prices, while not greatly discounted, are reasonable; and we doubt that it’s possible to drive more than a few miles in Dallas without being near one of the chain’s locations. But why do we love it so? Here’s why: We wandered in looking for a copy of the coveted Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic on the day it was released. “Have you preordered a copy?” the clerk asked. “No,” we said, lip trembling, tears welling in our childlike, 41-year-old eyes. No problem. He felt our pain and reached under the counter to find us a reserve copy. The guys at GameStop? They know your joneses, fellow gamers, and they sympathize.

At some point, almost all of the big mall computer stores decided they couldn’t afford to hire salespeople who actually know anything. Micro Center is the exception: Prices are competitive, but Micro Center also puts smart salespeople on the floor. Their own line of computers is usually a good buy, and the shelves almost always offer a fuller line of choices, from peripherals to software, than what you will find anywhere else. Another miracle: When the salespeople don’t know the difference, they say, “I don’t know the difference.”

Yes, get a pet…and love it, and care for it, and KEEP it! In doing the research for this tender category, we were privy to far too many animals abandoned in moves or given away because they cost too much to feed (what?). And, of course, there’s the unfortunate “he was cute when he was young, but now he’s grown and, well, not so much.” We advise never to utter those words near us. That’s why we adopted our little babe (turned over for no apparent reason) at the Animal Adoption Center. It’s a nonprofit, no-kill shelter, and it’s in dire straits. For providing such amazing service and surviving for years on donations and the aid of volunteers, they’ve been “awarded” the daunting task of raising $50,000 or being forced to close. That sucks, because they care. For the adoption fee, the center has arrangements with vets in the area for complimentary spaying and neutering, and all animals are up-to-date on shots. Five years later, we’re still grateful to the center for providing us with such an amazing companion, and he’s grateful to them for making sure he lived to see adoption.

If you’re looking for a way to get on Bowser’s good side, this is the place to call. Co-owners Braden Tripp, a former chef, and Jonathan Pickens have a list of freshly made goodies that will have your pet slobbering more than usual. The menu has everything from Bow Wow Bagels ($4 a dozen) to Paw Paw’s Old Fashioned Oat Meal Cookies ($5 per dozen) to Canine Cheese Sticks ($6 per dozen). None of the treats contains preservatives, artificial flavoring or color, and they’re not all hot out of the oven. They’ll even deliver frosty Pupsicles (with peanut butter and bananas) for the pooch who’s been in the sun all day.

Handbooks, mouth books, bum books. Crossroads Market and Bookstore has sex manuals of every type. And they’re just there on the shelf, not behind a counter or hidden beyond a velvet curtain. Just there by the cookbooks and romance novels and magazines and various knickknacks and greeting cards. But accessibility is only part of the issue. No one will look at you funny if you browse. Sure, you may giggle and blush to the shade of red found on the rainbow flags all around Cedar Springs, but no one will care. Not even the cashier, the woman standing in line to buy pie at the cafe or the guy using the Internet. Not that we would know, of course.

Usually, in Best of Dallas, we tell you where to find the good deals. But sometimes we just gotta tell you, look, these folks are the best, but it’s gonna cost you. Pay it. It’s worth it. That’s the case with Silks Abloom. They’re not the cheapest in town–far from it. But if you want a distinctive, stunning faux flower arrangement or greenery for your house, it’s hard to do better than these folks. So don’t blame us when you get the credit card bill, but do give us credit when your purchase earns you ooohs and aaahs.

This bookstore on the first floor of the main Dallas public library is like a perpetual yard sale. You never can tell what books you might find, but they’re guaranteed to be cheap. You can walk out the door with an audiotape, a couple of hardcover books and some paperbacks for less than 10 bucks. At these prices, the time spent looking for something interesting is worth it.

This West Village shop is hip for all the right reasons: It combines simple, classic styles with fun images and quality construction. If only other trendy boutiques could do this. We’re partial to the T-shirts, everything from the cabin boy line to the ones featuring our favorite monkey, Julius. Because if you can’t buy a T-shirt with a grinning monkey, why are you even shopping? It’s essential to any good wardrobe.

Gentlemen, when our old lady was pregnant with the Little Genius, as we’ve taken to calling our firstborn son, we discovered that nothing soothed flared hormones and other things starting with “h” better than an unexpected purchase from a happening maternity store. None of that Liz Lange “fashion” they’re selling at Target, none of that bargain-rack nonsense from Motherhood in the mall, but swanky silks from the likes of Pickles & Ice Cream, where the tops are tops in good-lookin’ and the bottoms don’t make Mama’s bottom look twice the size. Pea in the Pod has a few things Pickles doesn’t–including the awesome Nicole Miller over-the-shoulder diaper bag Dad bought after watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, and don’t ask–but Pickles seems to have a cooler shade of clothing, including a better selection of Japanese Weekend apparel than the JW Plano store, which is in one of the 32 malls along the Dallas North Tollway.

Buying bras can be a tricky task, since off-the-rack doesn’t work for every, um, rack. But Nordstrom simplifies the process with in-store alterations and an extremely helpful and (heh) supportive staff. It can be pricey (three bras will run you about $200), but it’s worth every cent.

Founder Harry Coley isn’t about to give up the secret ingredients passed down by his mother. Suffice it to say he’s been whipping up his rich, creamy and mouth-watering custards since 1996, using more egg yolks than any recipe you’ve ever heard of. On the rotating menu are 48 flavors with eight specialties of the day, from the standard vanilla and chocolate to peanut butter, peppermint, green tea and Kahlua. Don’t be surprised if you have to stand in a line that stretches outside the door; the wait’s worth it.

We’ll admit we went overboard when furnishing our kid’s nursery, especially considering he won’t be using it for, oh, the next six months to a year and won’t even be able to see it clearly for the next little while. But, let’s admit it, we deck out babies’ rooms not for the post-fetal, but for the parents, who like to spend time in the prettiest, coziest room in the house. So, yeah, we could have gone to Babies “R” Us and got us one of them functional cribs and economical changing tables, but nothing was too good for our boy–and for his parents, who were tired of looking at that spare room and figured what the hell. We drove to Plano, damn near to Frisco, because we heard Be-Dazzled has a lovely assortment of furniture (we wanted a Bratt décor crib, and this is among the few stores in the area to carry them) and a great selection of fabrics from which we could design everything from blankets to bumpers to rocking chairs; our handiwork’s now on display in the Louvre, by which we mean our house.

Say you and your pals have decided to go out for a night on the town. Say you’ve decided to drink responsibly and have opted to utilize one of the city’s cab services. Then say that particular cab company proceeds to stand you up–twice. What do you do? Well, first you delete the company’s number from your cell’s phone book, then you check out Revolution Bike Taxi, a free-of-charge service offered in areas such as Deep Ellum, the West End and Lower Greenville. You’ll get a free ride (tipping, of course, is encouraged) to the next watering hole, and you’ll see parts of the city you never knew existed. Consisting, basically, of a bicycle with a cart attached to the back, Revolution taxis take the roads less traveled, the back alleys and the routes you couldn’t find again if you tried. They’re quick, economical and environmentally friendly, and their hospitable drivers help put the “joy” in joyride. (We love you, Bryan K.! And thanks for not splashing us in that puddle…)

We know you think of it as a women’s shoe store, but hear us out. We recently held a garage sale. One couple made $300-plus. We saw this couple the next day. We asked them what they were going to do with their money. “We’ve already been to DSW Show Warehouse!” they exclaimed. Now, women who know their designer labels and who frequent this foot haven already know how great the place is, but they have super deals for men, too. Sure, you can go get your Kenneth Coles at department-store prices, but DSW is legendary for its top-name brands at below-reasonable prices. If you’ve got some found money, or even if you’ve got some cash you should spend on the water bill, consider making the trip to Lewisville. You’ll go head over heels.

We heard about one mom who was so desperate to cut her 2-year-old’s hair that she took the scissors to him while he was asleep. Given that she wasn’t a trained professional, and it was dark, and half the kid’s hair was under his head pressed against the mattress, the result wasn’t so great. We’re not sure what happened after that, but someone saw a woman with a hair-impaired toddler buying knit caps at Baby Gap. Too bad she hadn’t heard of Kids Kutz, started by two single moms who knew a thing or two about desperation themselves. Jackie Ricks, a licensed cosmetologist, and Martha Rehfeldt, a licensed barber/stylist, found themselves out of work in 1998 when Dallas’ Little Things went out of business and their children’s hair gig there was gone forever. Necessity being the mother of invention, Ricks and Rehfeldt opened their own place. Even if your kiddo isn’t afraid of the haircut experience, there is still the “wriggle” factor to consider. Ricks and Rehfeldt put their moms’ ingenuity to work with their scissors skills, providing elephant and tiger chairs for their small clients, and movies. “We instinctively feel the kids out,” Rehfeldt says, “and decide how best to approach each one. We see the brave and boisterous, and the shy and scared. We’ve never had a bad experience yet.” Word-of-mouth gets Kids Kutz most of its clients, and even some of PBS’ Barney kids get coiffed there. Rehfeldt says the trend among 6- to 10-year-olds is the Harry Potter cut for boys, and the Olsen twins for girls. Kids Kutz has a regular chair for harried moms and dads who make the trip to Euless for the kids but need a quick trim while they’re there.

This one is as easy as it gets, since it appeals to the smallest subgroup out there: gays and lesbians who read comic books. Not too many people cater to that particular market. But Richard and the rest of the crew at Zeus not only do just that, they do it in style, with regular get-togethers at neighboring Mexican restaurant Ciudad for rainbow-flag readers. Both places work fine on their own (Zeus is one of the best comics shops in town, especially for people just getting into reading them; Ciudad’s food is flip-out fantastic), but they’re even better together.

Gotta love the work shirt. More specifically, we love the random name patches that adorn the work shirt. Vintage or new, the shirt should fit, but that’s all we really require of it. It is, after all, all in the name. Petey, Mike, Renaldo, Tito, Leroy, Jessie, Martha. We found all of those and more at the little hole in the wall called Hollywood Five & Dime, located a few doors down from Bar of Soap on Parry Avenue. We’ve used them for place settings, party favors, gag gifts and on our clothing. While there, check out the teen pulp memorabilia, vintage-style sundresses and creeper shoes. The store holds enticements for those into tiki, rockabilly and punk (we still want those Sex Pistols magnets). But back to the patch. If you were born with a name you’ve struggled to hide for years, stop by Hollywood and pick out a new one to test out. After all, a seam ripper is a lot cheaper than a legal fee for the mutation of your moniker.

You won’t find price tags on the Nikons and Minoltas at this mom-and-pop shop. All the prices are in the head of its colorful owner, Ramsey Jabbour, who knows precisely what each item is worth. Just ask him. Some might call it haggling, but he calls it offering the most competitive prices around. His no-nonsense business style makes comparisons to Seinfeld‘s soup Nazi seem appropriate, but Jabbour knows his business like few others. His full range of camera equipment and supplies, both traditional and digital, makes his store the most important photographic resource in this area for the professional as well as the hobbyist, for large corporations as well as individuals. His no-frills store, located in an industrial area and piled high with boxes, makes little investment in marketing gimmicks. And why should it? And why do you question him about it?

Put those hands up for the team of experts that can mend them like no one else. Doctors David Zehr, Arnold DiBella and Paul Rosco Ellis III compose said team, and it seems there’s nothing they can’t hand-le (sorry about that, but we just had to). These talented doctors/surgeons tackle trauma, sports injuries, pinched nerves, wrist injuries, vascular and nerve injuries, amputations, tumors and arthritis. And we thought we did a lot in a day. The special thing about these guys (Dr. DiBella is truly outstanding in this area) is that they explain things to patients until they understand. There’s no quick diagnosis and exit, leaving the nurse to take over. The doctors take the time to show models, diagrams and demonstrations of injuries and are completely up front about what it will take to fix the problem. With parts as important to daily life as hands, that frankness and understanding are invaluable.

During a serious costume crisis, we visited the Dallas Costume Shoppe. We got great help and quite a bit of kitty lovin’. Skutr, a beautiful mix who looks part siamese and part short-haired Himalayan, greeted us at the door with a meow and a stretch. He accompanied us on our wig hunt, cutting figure eights through our legs and pawing for a scratch of the ears. The human assistance was quick and thorough, solving our costume woes, but it was Skutr who made us wish we had 10 more characters to dress, just so we could spend the day with the soft little affection-giver. Skutr is a master of promotions, making us determined to call again on the feline-friendly costume shop.

To call David Broussard an artist in no way overstates the obvious. Just look around his shop high atop Central Expressway, adjoining the Premier Club. He is a sculptor who prefers working in steel, and his artwork–much of it encompassing religious themes–adorns the shop walls. He plays a spirited bass guitar and writes his own songs, the latest of which can be heard on the headsets he will gladly apply before or after shampooing. His haircuts are as skilled as his art: precise, well-designed and well-executed. Although he works on men, women flock to his scissors, and he will trim the children of his customers for the asking. They sense they are safe in his hands, although they are not quite sure what large metallic crosses and stars of David are doing in a hair salon.

The price of fashion takes its toll in many ways other than the slimming of that designer pocketbook of yours. “Chic” eternally revolves and recycles in a vicious, cannibalistic circle, and the constant struggle to remain in The Now seems all but insurmountable when everything ends up being (or actually strives to be) so five-minutes-ago. Short of taking a not-so-scenic thrift-store tour of North Texas–one that’s decidedly more famine than feast–the options for the frugal fashionista have been limited, but the chain known as Buffalo Exchange succeeds in both remaking and remodeling even the most discriminating wardrobes. Set up in much the same way as a used record or book shop, BE specializes in the buy/sell/trade of threads that have worn out their welcome, without the hassle of sifting through shop-class ashtrays and incomplete Sesame Street puzzles. Be it the latest trends in street wear, a reinforcement of the tried and true or the funkiest of vintage statements, the clean Greenville Avenue outlet has a consistently organized and shifting stock, and it’s quickly become an essential weekend stop.

When you hit your early to mid-30s, there are constant reminders that you’re not 21 anymore. These include, but are not limited to, your waistline, your hairline, your preference for talk radio, your tendency to be offended by behavior you used to find hysterical and your reluctance to order more than six tacos at Taco Bell. But if you really want to feel AARP-ed out, creaky-kneed and cantankerously old, try shopping at Urban Outfitters. First of all, the sizes are all wrong. If you wear a medium, buy an XL there, because the kids are way skinny these days and like their clothes form-fitting. Also, be prepared to be mocked if you try to update your wardrobe and, say, you buy the male Capri pants because they look hip to you. Your poker buddies will not understand. Third, just take a look around. Not one of the girls and boys you see plunking down platinum cards looks older than 14, yet every one of them could buy and sell your ass.

Run by two Italian-American guys, third-generation owners; their mama makes the meatballs in the back. They make their own Italian sausage–hot, mild or how you like it. The wine selection is all Italian, all good and two bucks cheaper per bottle than the high-rent places. Every Italian condiment you can think of. People don’t just come here from Plano. They don’t just come here from Tyler. They come from as far away as Oklahoma City! You know why? Because they’re New Yorkers, from Brooklyn and the Bronx, in particular, and they are starved for a grubby little joint with worn-out fixtures, homeless people out front and really, really great Italian groceries.

Our favorite Emeralds to Coconuts find is a dainty beaded bracelet. We liked it so much we went back for more to rebead into other objects. Each bead has a face painted on it, and, as in real life, each face is different and is supposed to reflect a different personality and emotion. Unlike real life, all of them are really pretty. Stupid superficial bracelets. But if you like your faces not so perfect, Emeralds to Coconuts also carries masks to hang on your wall. Next time you’re accused of being two-faced, just say, “If you only knew.”

The ladies know how important a good eyebrow waxing is and that some people are better at it than others. But after the first episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy ran, the hetero dudes realized that it’s a good idea to get rid of the monobrow look. For $10, the good people at CSSS will give you a top-notch waxing without making you feel as though you’re in some stuck-up Uptown spa. If you’re raising an eyebrow at us, stop it. We know what’s good for you. Go and have your hair ripped off and tell us how good it feels, how good you look.

The doctor has the cure for your symptoms. Whether you’re in the doghouse or just wanna be someone’s dog, Dr. Delphinium has a prescription for you. And, seriously, if you drop $150 on one of the larger designs, you’d better get some action either way. From fresh red roses in classic vases to contemporary exotic blends in tall glass cylinders and every space in between, this floral-design studio can fit any occasion. There are even dried flower arrangements, door wreaths and plant baskets. Just don’t ask for the fern, carnation and baby’s breath combo. Trust us. That’s like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. Spring for the Birds of Paradise instead.

Two dozen roses for 20 bucks is a helluva deal these days, but somehow this no-frills operation manages it. Most of the time. Prices go up on Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day and other occasions, but bargains are still available for most birthdays and anniversaries as well as those crucial “apology occasions” that often precede makeup sex. Your Florist opened in 1995 in a converted garage two blocks from its new expanded location. According to staffer Lisa Hill, the store is open 365 days a year and imports most of its stock daily from Holland, South America and California. Hill says the clientele for the bargain roses includes a cross section of the public, “from kids and blue-collar workers to some of the richest, cheapest people in Highland Park.” For some crazy reason, the shop is also a mainstay for scavenger hunts. Hill reports that “about twice a month, people show up in limos to pick up a rose and a clue to their next destination.”