Shopping & Services

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.

Screw foreplay, these places are downright orgasmic. If, that is, you get aroused milling around a former old Plano Home Depot warehouse filled with sports memorabilia, a gazillion Izods, two bajillion clubs, a tennis court, a putting green, a chipping area complete with sand trap and countless driving range stalls equipped with computer analysis, simulated courses and a daily $50 closest-to-the-pin contest. Go in for a casual Sunday afternoon look-see and by the time you leave it'll be Tuesday. You'll get the usual golf gabfest about two-downs, three-putts, snowmen and worn-out impressions of Carl Spackler. But if you need anything to improve your game or at least a gadget to distract you from how seriously you suck, this is the place. Out front of the Accent Drive location is a Hummer golf cart selling for a cool $12,435. Like the sign says, "This is big."

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.

Though already known for all the gig-poster framing he's done for the All Good Cafe, Tom Battles still fights the good fight to keep his mom-and-pop a contender against big chains that are way expensive and may handle old photos and hard-to-frame items with less care. Part of Battles' battle plan was this year's relocation from the Design District to Oak Cliff's Tyler-Davis District. It was a resurrection of sorts as now his shop is nestled in with galleries, studios, gift shops and more, and the walk-up/street traffic factor makes the frame shop a more convenient destination. One of Battles' biggest talents is his ability to turn anything into an art piece. Clothes, keepsakes, fragile papers, and, of course, art are all fair game, and with Battles' keen eye, he can offer matte and wood suggestions that are far from boring. For a well-executed frame job you simply shouldn't go anywhere else.

The Junius Heights storefront Little Bean is already stocked with plenty of too-cute wares from various lines of clothing to toys, but designer/owner Christine Visneau also keeps her sewing machine at the ready for special requests and sudden inspiration. Visneau's styles, also dubbed Little Bean, are fashion with function paying respect to both the wearers and the washers of the pieces. Pieces are kid-chic but come in comfy textiles and tastefully bright patterns. Onesies to dresses are all made with diaper-changing in mind but feature adorable details like handmade accents (rosettes, for example) or spaghetti straps with bows. We think some of Visneau's success originates in having her own brood — moms just know what works — but also in her incredibly youthful spirit, evident even before she greets you. Little Bean, as a line and as a shop that carries multiple designers and products, reflects that energy and happiness. To show that Visneau's thought of everything, Little Bean features eye-level unbreakable merch for shorties to browse and a coloring table for when boredom sets in. When baby's busy, shopping is bliss.

Toward the top of the line, the $289.99 Egyptian copper and brass single-hose hookah with handmade clay bowl and ice cup. At the bottom, a $40 model that is nevertheless nice and totally without plastic parts. Hookah District, which has a sister store at 11532 Harry Hines Blvd., sells to the discriminating nargilist, offering a line of top hookah tobaccos including Starbuzz, Sex on the Beach and Fuzzy Lemonade. These gooey concoctions don't burn, you know: They vaporize beneath specially fabricated hookah charcoal sticks, which you can also get here. In fact, you could drop some serious dough in this joint. Or not.

When you have uninvited creepy crawlies, the best advice on getting rid of them comes from people in your own 'hood. After all, they know the same critters. East Dallas couple Douglas and Chrissy Fairweather developed all-natural Papa Richter's Roach Ridder and eventually manufactured it in sticky-backed bottle caps to mount in strategic spots. The boric acid-based formula is green and safe for use around inquisitive toddlers and the like. Without reliving any nightmares, we'll just say that it works quickly even during the humid spring and demanding summer. Oh, you could make a similar pest-prohibitive paste yourself, but you won't, so buy theirs. Available at the Green Spot, Walton's and other locations, as well as online.

After checking out photo booth after photo booth, we found that Premiere truly lived up to its name. The Frisco-based company provides Dallas-area events with a booth to entertain guests and spit out personalized photo strips that hearken back to those of the old days ... if the old days came with custom logos, a box of crazy props and a kick-ass, accommodating attendant. While your hired photographers are snapping your friends' "cheese," the booth documents the real hams, and you get all the copies. With their competitively priced, freebie-packed packages, Premiere's photo strips are fun and inexpensive party favors that won't get regifted, lost or tossed on the drive home. They're keepsakes from a wedding, bar mitzvah or corporate event that you'll actually want to keep.

Walking in the 64,000-square-foot Whole Foods for the first time can be intimidating. Why is there a large cosmetics section? Did I accidentally go to Dillard's? But once you make your way through the expansive produce and meat sections, you realize this is foodstuff heaven. Allergic to gluten? You'll find a large selection of gluten-free foods here. Like to get buzzed while perusing baked goods? There's a wine bar with a well-priced and versatile selection of wines by the glass. Oh, and did we mention the frozen yogurt bar, expansive chef's case and covered parking? That last part sure makes this Whole Foods our favorite shopping haven in the summer heat.

Whenever anyone starts talking to us about organic this, sustainable that and how buying local food can reduce our carbon footprint, we tend to zone out and assume that the conversation doesn't apply to us. Because we eat meat. A lot. Especially when we cook. A meal just isn't a meal unless we're eating something that once had a face, as far as we're concerned. So we assumed that a store that serves as the hub for a co-op style produce market had nothing to offer us other than some of the green stuff that goes on the plate as sort of an afterthought next to the T-bone steak, drumstick, pork chop or fillet of fish. And yet, the first time we walked into Urban Acres, fully expecting to find a bunch of bean patties and tofu and other bullshit meat substitutes, we instead saw a cooler full of flesh. Grass-fed, hormone-free beef. Free-range, stimulant-free chicken. Milk from cattle that weren't pumped full of antibiotics. Eating like a caveman never felt so natural.

We're not so nimble with a sewing needle, but Margaret of Margaret Custom Alterations is so talented that she puts those crafty wannabes on Project Runway to shame. Whether you need a designer gown to be shortened or sequins replaced on your tacky Christmas sweater, Margaret can do it just right and in a reasonable amount of time. She can shorten those fancy designer jeans you just got and replicate the fancy stitching on the hem, and her steady hand can repair even the most intricate of beadwork. Now you don't have to worry when you get a snag in your Rudolph sweater at the holiday office party.

We all know that old cliché about our furry friends being family members is true, and it's as much of a bummer when man's best friend gets sick as when your better half does. Sometimes veterinarian costs can run higher than human healthcare costs, but the folks at Katy Trail Animal Hospital aren't in the business of helping animals just for the money, and that certainly shows not only when you're paying the bill, but also when you see the staff interact with the four-legged clients. The doctors and staff are certified animal lovers, the hospital features a state-of-the-art surgical facility and the kitty boarding area has plenty of windows for our cat to stare at her favorite birds.

There's no better feeling than stepping out of the hair salon with a shiny, swishy new 'do, especially if that new cut, color and/or blow-out hasn't made you break the bank. In a city full of fancy (read: expensive) hair salons, Avalon has consistently been our go-to spot for reasonably priced hair styling and up-to-the-second trends. Those feathers you see all the young, hot things sporting in their manes? You could have been the first to have those red and yellow streaks in your hair and made all the kids envious. We give Avalon bonus points for the West Village location extending weekday hours and being open on Sundays and Mondays, a rarity in the salon world.

As much as massages have been touted as the ultimate way to melt away stress, there's another stress reliever that puts the standard massage to shame. Adrift Float Spa specializes in floating treatments coupled with anti-gravity massage. First, you spend 15 minutes or so in the anti-gravity massage chair, which loosens up your muscles and surprisingly feels as good as a massage from a real, live person. Afterward you're whisked away to a private room that contains a giant saltwater tank with enough salt to allow you to be blissfully buoyant for an hour. With the dim lighting and soothing music, your stress immediately melts away as you enjoy the feeling of being almost weightless. After an hour of floating, you'll forget about those Swedish massages. It's like having The Dead Sea all to yourself.

In a purple cottage tucked away in a mysterious corner of Old East Dallas, this ... store? ... venue? ... spooky little hideaway offers a variety of merchandise associated with Wicca and other forms of magic. At the front in a glass cabinet is the best selection of tarot cards you're going to find in the city, certainly better than Walmart, ranging all the way from Aleister Crowley's Thoth deck to the more common and less infamous Rider deck. Lessons in tarot reading are offered here as well. But be polite, or you may get out to your car and find you've become a newt.

If you're having a medical emergency, the best facility isn't usually the one that shows up on U.S. News & World Report's hospital rankings year after year or the one that landed 14 consecutive Consumer Choice Awards. It's the closest. Fortunately for an East Dallas-dwelling friend who had a recent health crisis in which seconds counted, his nearest medical center was Baylor, which has won all of those honors along with many others. His experience with a top-notch medical team was just as positive as those of other friends and family members who've been patients there recently. And it doesn't hurt that the cafeteria food options are surprisingly good, including a Chik-fil-A stand instead of the dreaded McDonald's outpost. Baylor, while not always the closest, is the best choice when you have a choice.

Just like the literature summaries that inspired the bookstore's name, Cliff Notes is small. Before its move a couple doors down from 1222 W. Davis St. to its just slightly bigger current space, you could reach the register from the opposite wall in a couple of steps. But Carlos and Opalina Salas' shop is all the better for its diminutive size, with a selection (used and new) that shows an inclination toward Beat writers such as Ginsburg, Kerouac and Burroughs but also includes music history books and biographies, cannabis growing guides, biographies of revolutionaries and other edgy literature. Further, if they don't have what you're looking for, they're happy to order it for you. There are also a couple crates of vinyl if you're interested in a new 180-gram reissue or a used Kraftwerk LP. A shelf full of art and literary zines is the only place in town to find works from some up-and-coming writers and poets. But perhaps its biggest contribution to the community is the programming, ranging from poetry readings to an author signing by Dirty South hip-hop chronicler Ben Westhoff to weekly children's enrichment activities. And yes, for the students undertaking a last-minute cram session, they also sell CliffsNotes study guides.

If you don't know about Centre, chances are you're old, hate rap music and have never been on a skateboard. Because everyone else in town knows well about this Mockingbird Station shop, the go-to retail spot for all things street wear and culturally up-to-date. Eye-catching graphic tees, hard-to-find sneakers, expressive ballcaps and even ceramic toys — Centre's got it all. Other things, too, like in-store appearances from musicians and artists rolling through town. Plus, it's just a cool spot to hang out in, a haven for those for which the "new" is too old and "new-new" can't come fast enough. The best part: Aside, even, from being Dallas' epicenter of all things cool, the people who work and shop here are proud of their Dallas roots. You need a shirt that says you proudly rep the D, but you're sick of wearing another sports team tee? Hit up Centre. They'll hook you up with a fresh look.

For one of the worst industries you can be in, Good Records seems to be doing quite well. With vinyl back in fashion, the Lower Greenville Avenue record store is staying afloat; more than half of their sales are LPs. But their success is probably because they sell more than just records. Their impressive in-store performances from national touring acts and local bands with new records to hawk take place on the covered stage on the store's back wall, which is pretty much unmatched by any other music venue on all of Lower Greenville Avenue. The shows, coupled with a weekly rock-and-roll movie night, make Good Records one of the coolest places to hang out on Lower Greenville.

There's a certain odd comfort that comes from wandering around the expansive grounds of Trader's Village in South Grand Prairie. It's like a giant flea market mixed with the State Fair of Texas, and it happens every weekend of the year. Hundreds of vendors open up shop in small garage units, selling anything imaginable from furniture to comic books and music. The merchandise is mostly fake (don't look too closely at the diamonds on those gold necklaces), but the tattoos you'll likely see are all too real. The only thing better than the people-watching is the price of beer in the food tents: $2 for a Pacifico.

If your idea of a great flower arrangement comes from 1-800-FLOWERS, you might be surprised by the sophisticated European-style offerings from Avant Garden. The Highland Park Village flower shop has been serving the surrounding affluent community for well more than a decade, but in 2010 it received a makeover thanks to new owner Todd Fiscus. While the shop's appearance changed, one thing that didn't was the style of the small, compact, hydrangea-heavy arrangements that the shop is known for, all of which come in artfully designed vases that you don't have to be filthy rich to appreciate.

With more than 250 different seasonings, spices, herbs, sprinkles and blends from around the world, Penzeys Spices is the place to go if you're looking to spice things up, whether you're a professional chef or amateur in the kitchen. Penzeys offers traditional seasonings like cinnamons, black peppers and curry powders, as well as dozens of unique blends. Northwoods seasoning, a combination of Hungarian paprika, herbs, black pepper and garlic, spices up everything from chicken to fish and even homemade salad dressing. The tantalizing Sunny Paris seasoning is next to impossible to resist as the aroma entices the senses — actually your nose can guide you through the place — and Mural of Flavor can be sprinkled on anything. Penzeys opened its first storefront in '97 — the Dallas spot opened in 2005 — and has been selling its worldly selection of spices by mail order for more than 20 years.

What we said about Nick's Sports Cards goes triple for Titan Comics, the longtime Bachman Lake staple recently dispatched to Forest Lane to make way for a Walmart (much better location). We've said it countless times before: No toys, no action figures, no plush Green Lanterns for the baby dork, just comics, past and present, lining every wall and every shelf and stuffing every file cabinet in which the old issues are now pragmatically stored for each browsing. (The hand-painted, comics-artist-designed statues, also for sale, serve more as museum pieces behind glass cases.) We've taken countless collectors to Titan over the years, including hard-to-please out-of-towners, and all walk out with stacks of stories they remembered as kids and had to have again, as well as the new tales of suspense introduced to them by Jeremy Shorr and his staff of fanboys — and fangirls, no kidding. No geek locker room here, just the world's finest.

Maybe because other places have been selling decent tents for cheap in recent years, REI has found ways to offer its own store line of tents at pretty good prices — under two bills for a two-man — and still maintain the quality for which REI is so well known. Their tents can get pricey, of course, but they have smart salespeople on hand to tell you exactly what you're getting for your money. If you're in the market for a good tent but you have questions, REI is definitely the way to go.

As much as we want to like Forever 21 for its affordable style, it's too disorganized, loud and glittery (have you seen that floor?!) to get our business. That's why we're grateful for Pitaya. Not only can we find trendy dresses, tops and bottoms for $50 or less on average, we know that new stuff is guaranteed to be there on every visit because inventory is updated weekly. On a recent trip we snagged a Native American-inspired, one-shoulder dress for $30 and a pair of fringe-y sandals for $40. Not too shabby and nowhere near the mall.

Of all the hundreds of categories in Best of Dallas, this is one of those we write about with something bordering on absolute authority. For a long while this spring we scoured the city for a lone bottle of Old Fitzgerald, widely considered the finest of all cheap bourbons. (We are nothing if not penny-pinching aficionados of grown-up drink.) Two teases and one special order later, we would eventually find an endless supply at the Sigel's at Abrams Road and Skillman Street, for which we remain eternally grateful. (We hope they still have it. In summer we tend to drink rum, and the Bacardi Añejo is another pragmatic revelation. Anyway.) Among the countless stops on our quest, however, was a return to Spirits after many years away: It's a warehouse of booze where the supply's generous and the price is reasonable to the point of being low. Try finding Buffalo Trace White Dog cheaper. Then, try finding Buffalo Trace White Dog anywhere.

When it comes to wine and spirits, Goody Goody Oak Lawn's staff know their stuff. Don't be surprised if when you walk in the door you're warmly greeted by at least three or more alcohol aficionados — especially during peak hours. The staff is eager to guide you through the expansive wine and liquor selections. Not only is the service great, the prices aren't bad either. Despite an expansive selection, when you ask the staff for suggestions and recommendations they'll have an answer for you, and if they don't, they'll ask someone else, and if that fails they'll happily hop on the computer and find it. There's no hard sell here, just good old-fashioned customer service.

We've known proprietor Jason Cohen since his days running Forbidden Books in Expo Park; he's the man who introduced us to the joys of Naughty Dallas ... and Naughty Dallas, the movie, which is a whole other story. But then he morphed into a picker, an expert in discerning your trash from your treasures and then directing them to the attention of those of us who like to go to, let's say, curated garage sales. No, he doesn't specialize in Texas goodies, but he and the others sellers in the shop keep their searches close to home, which is why we spent one brutal Saturday afternoon agonizing over whether to take home original Norman Bell sketches done for Southwestern Bell Yellow Pages covers or a Tango opening-week poster or a State Fair panoramic dating back to the '20s. We panicked and left with a press photo of the Dallas Eagles baseball club of 1951, which we found buried beneath a pile of old magazines and newspapers. Pick your picker.

We admit calling Mike's best "hobby shop" might be limiting the definition of hobby a bit. Maybe your hobby is knitting, or pottery or viewing online porn. Fine, there are plenty of yarn stores, craft shops and the Internet out there for you. Our hobby — the non-Internet one, anyway — involves things with electric motors that go high and fast and, sadly, break fairly regularly under our unskilled hands. If radio-controlled airplanes, cars or boats are your thing, Mike's is the best place for kits, servos, motors, radios and any other part you can send on a death spiral into the ground. The joint is huge, with dozens of models of scale planes dangling from the roof, plus indoor and outdoor tracks in an adjacent warehouse space featuring a competition schedule for RC car hobbyists who prefer to keep things mostly on the ground. (Watch out for the jumps. In fact, just watch these guys go. There's some amazing miniature driving on display nearly every day.) The employees know their gear and will even take the time to explain it to rookies, and prices are comparable to online shops. Best of all, there's not a dried flower, ball of yarn or gnome in the joint.

This is a head shop? Where are the shelves lined with vibrators and dildos? How nice it is to venture into a store catering to fans of the herb that doesn't treat tokers like they're one skeevy step away from being a perv. Browse through the collection of retro-style clothing, art, jewelry, tchotchkes and incense and you may forget why you're there — to blow bucks on an original, artfully blown, hand-crafted "water pipe." (Of course, "water pipe" fans are liable to forget lots of things.) No worries though, Retro has a vast array of pipes, extractors, papers, jars, grinders and all the other accoutrements needed to keep the hippie in you happy. Well, all but one. This ain't California.

We're men. That's spelled M, E-child, N. Buh-DUH-buh-bump. What we want from clothes is fairly straightforward: Not much ironing, durable, fit for wearing almost anywhere without requiring that we think about it too much. Oh, and cheap. Cheap is good because it leaves us more money to spend on things we really care about, like beer and toys and more beer. We're not saying all the men are fashion idiots here at the Observer. It's just that many of us — particularly in the seedier parts of the editorial department — are the sort who think savoir faire is a fancy kind of wine. That's why we are grateful for Kohl's, where we can sort through a massive stock of shirts and pants and in 10 minutes (that's about all the clothes shopping we're good for) walk away with a half-dozen items that will see us through a season and not make us look like we should be hustling for spare change. Nordstrom, Jos A. Bank, etc. are fine for fancy duds and there are tons of consignment shops if you want to try to pull off a hipster look. For some of us, though, clothes are a utility, something to be worn to avoid giving offense, something that shouldn't cost more than a fine bottle of bourbon. We shop at Kohl's.

Remember those awful, dated glasses your mom and dad used to wear? Remember when you thought a giant pair of aviators or a set of Euro-styled teeny-weeny specs flattered your face? We hate to break it to you, but the fruit doesn't fall far from the tree. By that we mean those glasses on your face would make Mom and Dad proud. Seriously, tiny half frames are not a good fit on a American-sized melon head. You need help, and American Eyewear is there for you. With hundreds of styles to choose from by designers like Oliver Peoples, Gucci, Prada, Armani and Paul Frank, the staff at this 30-plus-year-old independent shop can guide you to something stylish that fits properly. Located on Preston near Northwest Highway, it's not the cheapest eyewear shop in town, but really, Waldo, you wear these things on your face every day. Maybe it's time to splurge.

Have you seen the camping plates, cups and even cooking implements that unsnap and fold down flat like a piece of paper? What about the thing that's a compass and a waterproof matchbox all in one? Do you have one of those little metal things that's flat and fits in a shirt pocket, but it unfolds into a mini pellet stove that can boil a cup of water? But not in the paper folding cup. That could be bad. Most camping departments in bigger stores have a shelf of these partially useful eccentric outdoor gewgaws, but Whole Earth has the complete collection in its back room. Just looking at this stuff is the next best thing to actually camping.

Dallas potter David Day throws traditional terra cotta flower pots, whitewashed and stamped with their weight and city of origin (Dallas), ranging from one and a half to 12 pounds per pot in a variety of classical shapes. The whitewash gives them an especially timeless aura. Day learned his craft as a demonstration potter at Old City Park, then moved to the Cedars and set up his own full-scale studio. He works now at what he calls a "real job" during the week but continues to throw pots in his spare time. The management at Redenta's says the supply of David Day pots is sometimes a little spotty, but the pots are so special that people are happy to get on a list to wait for them.

Didn't say cheapest, did we? Micro Center usually has very competitive prices for computers and peripherals of all kinds, but the big thing here is "knowledgeable." That's important if you're trying to find a computer store where the employees know one single thing about the stuff they're selling. Or what day it is. Micro Center has the kind of sales people you have to wait in line to talk to sometimes because they're so busy solving everybody's problems. The point is, they know how, so it's well worth the wait. You can save money at this place just by not buying the wrong stuff and burning gas taking it all back six times. They also have a major service department.

If you ever frequented the old location in the Victorian houses on Fairmount where Uncommon Market did business for 40 years, you're in for a big surprise. The new location, in a vast airy warehouse on the edge of the Design District, is open and accessible but still manages to preserve that wonderful sense of discovery and surprise as you maneuver from room to room. The core attraction is the same — one of the region's most exhaustive stocks of antique decoration, hardware, furniture and props gathered from all over this country and Europe. Where else could you go and choose from four dozen different antique leather suitcases? Where else is there an entire warehouse space full of antique lighting fixtures? Or multiple retired 12-man rowing shells? It's so uncommon.

Surrounded now by the medical research community and a sea of apartments, Southland Farm Store survives from a much earlier era when people nearby still kept small animals and even horses and cattle. For decades the store did well by converting to birding and pet supplies and organic gardening supplements. Now with the rise of urban backyard chickens, community gardens and other types of big-city DIY agriculture, Southland may be in sort of a sweet spot. They still have big animal gear, especially for horses, and there are still people behind a counter right up front who know what they're talking about, just like in feed stores out in the country. But at Southland it's a little different spin: how to be a farmer in the city. That's what you call a specialized niche, and they're in the middle of it.

With a tire shop on seemingly every block, West Davis Street in North Oak Cliff is the place to be if you have a knack for predicting a blowout. Chances are you'll be close enough to a garage that you won't even have to mess with a spare. Some of them are cash-only, but as long as you can fish $20 from your wallet you'll probably be good if you don't mind settling for a used tire. Yeah, there may not be a 60,000-mile warranty, but you've got the peace of mind that comes from knowing you could replace the tire four or more times before you reach the price of one new tire at a national chain. We've heard some of the white yuppies new to the area gripe about the preponderance of such garages — which are mostly Hispanic-owned — as "eyesores," which strikes us as nauseatingly classist, if not downright racist. We think they're vital neighborhood employers serving those who can't drop a couple Benjamins every time a tire starts to go bald.

When a couple of teens walked into Oak Cliff Bicycle Co. hoping to sell a bike they claimed had belonged to their grandfather, Ean Parsons (no longer with the company) and Jeremy Ordaz could have made a quick buck by lowballing the sellers then turning around and selling it out of their shop. Problem was, they recognized the bike and knew it belonged to a young neighborhood boy, not anyone's grandpa. Rather than back down from a couple of rustlers, one grabbed the bike and the other followed them outside, snapping pictures that were later posted online. In fact, the publicity led to a customer recognizing one of the culprits as a neighbor, whereupon he gave the boy the opportunity to make it right. If we truly are on the verge of apocalypse, we'll need more brave citizens like these to help maintain order in the ensuing anarchy. If not, well, they're just good examples of how small-business owners can shape the character of their neighborhoods for the better.

With doom on the horizon, there are a few things that most any red-blooded American will want to do before curtain call (if they havent already). One of those always wanted to list items floating in peoples buckets is to get a tat, dammit. Most seasoned doomsayers probably already have some permanent markings upon their flesh, but for those who havent made the commitment yet (its never too late for your first ink), high-tail it down to Deep Ellum and allow one of the many talents on staff at Elm Street Tattoo to style a commemorative doomsday piece, while you still have a mortal coil to bear it. Artists and co-owners Dean Williams and world-record holder (for most tattoos given in 24 hours) Oliver Peck will insure that youll never forget your first time under the needle ... or your last.