Best Of Dallas® 2007 Winners
Shopping & Services
So, are you a grazer or a hunter? Would you rather meet a best-selling author or save some money? Too tired at night to read for pleasure and want books on tape? These are the questions that make the pick for Best Bookstore a crapshoot. If you're the kind who likes to browse blindly and hope to stumble across an interesting book, and you want to save money, you have last year's Best Bookstore, Half Price Books. Truth be told, we're really the shallow sort who loves the latest best seller and freshest celeb mags, so it's really down to Borders or Barnes & Noble, and the nod goes to the Borders in West Village. Why? It's Uptown, which is next door to Downtown, where we really would like to see a new bookstore thrive. We also dig the tucked-away feel upstairs, the reasonable selection of books on CD (more please) and the fact that there are actual homes, restaurants, shops, bars and a movie theater in close walking distance. You know, sort of what we want in the heart of the city. Just sayin'.
Dogs are like toddlers except when you go on vacation. It's not nice to leave the baby at the kennel, but if you know the right place, it's OK to leave the pooch there. And when you have multiple dogs with varying needs—a senior golden retriever that must pee every two hours, a spaniel that won't poop while on a leash and a mutt who's a four-legged shredding machine—finding a versatile kennel is a must. Toothacres, in business since 1967, has almost 400 runs in different sizes and styles, and most include both indoor and outdoor access (important for the weak-bladdered pups). There are even available "fun run" areas that include splash pools and outdoor toys. The staff is also obliging regarding feeding (they offer Science Diet and Bil-Jac foods, or you can bring your own), plus medication and treats. Prices are comparable to other area kennels, though they also offer more pricey furnished "suites" for the truly spoiled.
Washer eating socks? Dryer spewing tepid air? Ice machine stop making cubes? If a home appliance—anything from a toaster to central air-conditioning units—goes kerflooey, the folks at Adam the Answer Man are ready to help. They'll walk you through diagnosing the problem so you don't waste money on the wrong part. They'll tell you what parts you'll need and usually have them in stock. They also have consumer-friendly hours. Most appliance parts stores keep banker's hours and sell to the trade, but Adam the Answer Man is open after 5 p.m. and on Saturday. They'll even tell you what tools you need. Now if only marriage counseling were this easy.
There are other prosthetics stores in Dallas, but none have been around as long as Hedgecock, and there's a reason for that. From its beginning in 1910, the locally owned company has made its focus patients, not profits. They know what it's like to have to shop for a new foot or leg or arm. Several members of the staff have prosthetics themselves, so they understand the physical and psychological difficulties that go with losing a limb, and they will take the time to get things just right. Way to step up.
Dried squid, roasted green peas, spicy eel...right in the middle of the mind-numbing conformity of a northern Dallas suburb stands this delightful ethnic market where most everything is unexpected and exotic. The store, the size of your average Tom Thumb, is divided into sections: Korean, Chinese, Japanese. There's a butcher shop stocked with chicken feet, gizzards and pork tongues; an ice cream aisle where you can sample the mochi rolls (ice cream wrapped in rice); and a drink aisle that includes a soda with real grapes in it. Give your taste buds a trip to the Far East once in a while.
Sure, this chain store's in a mall located way up on LBJ, which means we have to pack a lunch and hire a sherpa for the long journey to sample its wares. But Steve & Barry's has Starburys, dawg (they are, in fact, the exclusive seller of the Starbury brand). If you don't know what that means, hip yourself to the revolution: In September of last year, New York Knick Stephon Marbury, who'd grown tired of watching poor inner-city kids spend way too much on expensive sneakers, decided to start his own clothing company and sell sneakers for the righteous price of $14.98. He even wears them in NBA games. And though they're not the prettiest shoes in the world—the word "fugly" comes to mind—they certainly serve their purpose, and more important, they serve it for a price we can all get behind. For example, the last time we went to Steve & Barry's, we walked out with a pair of basketball shorts, a stylish T-shirt and a fresh pair of Starbury II's (in Phoenix Suns colors, unfortunately), all for less than $40 (!). Just remember—your hang time could suffer from all the change left in your pocket.
Back when we had more hair, going into a unisex salon wasn't that big of a deal. If we were lucky, a hot woman would wash our hair—so nice—and if we were super-duper lucky she'd throw in a temple massage. Ah, but that was then and this is now. To be honest, these days adding water to what remains of our locks exposes more skin than we want to show off to any woman not solidly bound to us in marriage. Misogynistic? No way. We love women. That's why we wish to spare them the sight of our ever-enlarging scalp. Luckily for us, Mustang offers us a manly man tonsorial experience—red barber chairs, plenty of mags to catch us up on sports, a TV in the corner, a shoe-shine stand and those random bottles of smelly stuff to help stretch out what little hair we have left. If we could just get them to cover up those big windows, it'd be perfect.
The humongous garden centers are always tempting, especially for small bedding plants and other things you need bunches of. Those nice supermarket prices help a gardener stay on budget. The problem, of course, is that the big box stores don't hire many garden-savvy staffers and their greenery sometimes turns brown a bit too soon. The Home Depot on Skillman seems to be the exception. Their plants are lush and healthy, and their garden department workers know a cactus from a philodendron. You'll leave here with nice plants that still have leaves weeks, maybe even months, later.
Actually, we had hoped there would never be a "best big box" category. We had hoped these multi-acre stores one day would all disappear and yield their sprawling asphalt parking lots to clever, Frenchy little shops with leaded glass windows and geraniums on the sill. But then we found out you could buy stuff cheap in a big box. Très bien. Sam's Club is where you get your toilet tissue by the case and your frozen pizzas in wagon wheel sizes. You can also pick up discounted best-selling books and other luxuries. For parties, get that seven-layer dip in a tub and those chips in sacks as big as pillowcases. You can also get pillowcases. Save a bunch, spend a lot. It's the big box that rox.
Yes, we know. Buying a swimsuit is akin to torture for all but women born to be Victoria's Secret models. But Everything But Water, which recently acquired the Just Add Water stores, makes it less painful and even kind of fun. Because they have so many different kinds of suits, you can hold out hope of finding one that makes your legs look longer, tummy look flatter, breasts look more voluptuous and back-end look less like two watermelons in a gunnysack. Are you a bikini girl, a racerback athlete, a tankini mom, a Brazilian thong kind of babe or just an ordinary woman looking for a one-piece that flatters? Do you need one size for the bottom and another for the top? Would a little "power netting" (a girdle-type fabric) come in handy? Everything But Water has dozens of designers, and suits are in stock no matter what the season. (Ever tried to find the perfect swimsuit in January for that long-awaited cruise?) They've also got little helpers, like removable waterproof bra boosters. Just because you're not a lingerie model doesn't mean your cleavage has to hide its glory in a dumpy swimsuit.
We're almost embarrassed to call it a CD store. That's because Good Records harks back to the days of yore for which every hipster yearns (even if said hipster was born five years after those days were over): the halcyon days when independently owned record shops served as gathering spots for geeks, freaks, cool people, old hippies and all those in between who had one thing in common. They. Loved. Music. Unlike some of those old-school vinyl spots, however, Good Records is no dusty, low-ceiling basement; rather, it's a comfy, well-lit affair stocked with everything from the hard-to-find to the everybody-wants. Plus, GR hosts a stunning lineup of lauded bands, local and national, at its always packed in-stores. The store might as well be a nightclub. Add to that a staff that knows their stuff, a location right in the heart of things and clientele that doesn't just zip in looking for the latest Fergie single—hell, they'll stay there all day, just shooting the shit about everything from local music to Jimi Hendrix—and you got not just a Best of Dallas, but a best in the country.
There are plenty of computer stores in town. Say you're an I.T. geek and you like to build your computers from scratch. Then Fry's is the place for you. But if you're like the rest of us, you want your computers simple, like plug it in and hit the button simple. And, if possible, you want your computers cool. Unless you've been living on another planet, you know that Apple pretty much has the lock-down on both simple and cool when it comes to computers. And there is no cooler place to buy a computer, or an iPhone that just dropped in price by $200 (yes!), than the Apple Store on Knox Street. Frosted glass doors, hardwood shelving, a black-clad staff that looks straight out of Banana Republic. Plus, the service is excellent, and the gadgets are so very cool. Calling the technicians "geniuses," however? Not so cool.
Stores filled with faded jeans and worn T's are fine, but sometimes you need a quick stop-and-shop to score something you could actually wear to some snazzy function. Reventé is moderately sized and well-organized, which limits the swoon factor. And it's full of well-maintained clothes ranging from shirts and pants that fit into the business casual category to suits and skirts and hot little dresses you could wear on a night out. The salespeople are accommodating and know the merch. No digging through piles of thrift store threads. This boutique is an old-fashioned dress shop (with accessories too) full of gently worn outfits to fit any budget.
We are not wealthy people. We do not wear silk suits or tip barkeeps $100 bills. Neither are we drug addicts. We don't feel the compulsion that rules them. Unless, that is, the air conditioning goes out at home on a Sunday night in August, then by God, we whip out the wallet and call for service RIGHT NOW, because rather than face the night in Texas without refrigerated air, we'll spend like a Rockefeller with a snoot full of toot and no preset credit limit. Must...have...air...conditioning. Lucky for us, the folks at Total know our need and will actually send a technician when you call, nights and weekends. Better still, they don't show up wearing eye patches, carrying parrots and cutlasses. Twice this summer, Total was the first to show up, once on a Sunday and once at 11 p.m. They told us what they charged coming in and showed up with the parts needed to feed our chill jones. Cheap? Well, we're talkin' A/C repairmen here, but they're reasonable and honest, so we could sit comfortably afterward in that sweet, cool air.
There's something so very therapeutic about stringing beads. And satisfying too. When you're done, you have new jewelry. At this nook in Lakewood, they teach beading and jewelry-making classes that'll make you feel like you've gone away to summer camp again. Make necklaces, bracelets or earrings using the glass, ceramic and gemstone beads they carry. Mix onyx with turquoise or pearls with wood. Be bold, be creative. Be still for a minute. That's what it's really all about.
Our cats have eating issues. Our dog is fat (hey, we're working on it). As multiple pet owners, we suffer from a freakishly keen sense of smell that calls for a particular brand of cat litter. At Pet Supplies Plus we walk in, load a cart with both types of special cat foods, diet dog food, our perfect litter, kitty vomit stain remover (don't ask) and a few toys and treats for good measure, and we go home happy. The goods are priced for mutt budgets. And we've found things here no other pet commissary carries. Like, the calming spray for carsick kitties. Doggone fine store.
They don't make them like Darla Fulp anymore. She's old-school Neiman's, the kind of retail employee who would have made Stanley Marcus proud. At other stores, the help ignores you when you need another size and goes on break when you're stripped to the skin in that hot dressing room. Not Ms. Fulp, who will do whatever it takes to make you a happy customer, even if that means finding you a Diet Coke and a cookie to quell that late-afternoon shopping slump. Her specialties are ladies' lingerie and loungewear. She can find you the perfect bra, with a pretty slip and panties that match. She's a godsend for elderly customers who have problems with zips, buttons and hooks. And she's super-friendly, but not in that creepy overfamiliar way. Shop with her once and she'll remember you, your mom, your sister and your aunt and give you a hug next time you're in her department. Ms. Fulp, from the bottom of our cleavage, we salute you.
A month later, we're still trying to recover from the tragic fact our feet are too wide for the handmade lace-up cap-toe cordovan boots at Billy Reid's. Apparently, he thinks his male customers have feet the size of an 8-year-old ballerina's. But the fact we so hate that we can't fit into the shoes we love, love, love and are still pimping this pimpin' store only confirms our affection for Reid's sole Dallas outlet, one of only four in the entire country. We do love the clothes, chief among them the selection of leather boots, not to mention shirts that look and feel tailored just for you, most of which run well under $150 and even half of half that during the annual close-outs. But the joint also has a vibe you don't expect, in or out of a mall setting. Hardwood floors and comfy antique couches and cozy dressing rooms are part of what makes this place our home-away-from-home when we're out shopping. That, and the fact assistant manager Jeff Denton seems to recall everyone's name and size after one visit, be it you, us or Outkast's Andre Benjamin. Oh, and they do sell women's clothes too—and if we were a lady, we'd look amazing in that cream Camel cardigan.
Parked in the middle of the loudest, smelliest stretch of Lower Greenville, where overcrowded bar-slash-STD-troughs dominate the landscape, the Winedale Tavern is a sliver of a place with a long, long bar that's conducive to just one activity: drinking. No cozy booths inviting yuppie groups to get all Friends in the corner. No flashy neon lights draw crazed groups of girls who "just wanna dance" to overplayed '80s hits. Just four tiny tables are crammed against the walls, used for storing copies of yesterday's paper and empty ash trays. No, the Winedale wants you up at the bar, where you'll always find the same 10 people, an attentive bartender and a reliable game of Photo Hunt. All you need to bring is one friend, a good attitude and lots of quarters for the jukebox.
Betty and Cesare Nadalini raised a large family on Swiss Avenue for years. Then fate intervened and forced them to go live in a gorgeous villa in Tuscany. Boo-hoo, right? There they now produce a handmade "estate-bottled" extra virgin olive oil made only of olives from their own farm. You can read about it and order some at tuttatoscana.com, or for about 35 bucks a half-liter you can buy it at Flavors from Afar. The tastes of Tuscany don't come cheaply, but because of the Dallas connection at the source, every drop of this olive oil has some local flavor too.
In our early 20s, we loved high heels. We found no pump too spiked and no toe too pointy. But those evenings of sore feet soon were followed by ouchy ankle pain and stiff knees, which made us question our dedication to torturous fashion. Time to make the comfy shoe chic again. At Whole Earth Provision, they stock dozens of foot-loving brands including Earth, Dansko, Merrell, Wolky, Birkenstock, Keen and the expensive-but-amazing MBT. And if phrases like "anatomical footbed" or "orthotic compatible" rock you on your heels, be assured these kicks have a toehold on boho chic.
Cat o' Nine Tails wearing out? Leather Masters has a nice crop of whips, gags, sleep sacks, "puppy tails" and other paraphernalia geared to the bondage and S&M experience. Straps, strops, caps, pants, vests—if you want it in leather, chances are good they have it. This shop also offers get-togethers for like-minded kinksters. Community service, hey, you can't beat that.
The husband-and-wife team of Luit and Jamie Huizenga specialize in European-style floral arrangements, meaning lush, colorful and presented in unique vases, luminaries and handmade pottery containers that go far beyond the containers offered by most florists. Jamie met Luit, a native of Holland, while both were budding floral designers and have been on the Dallas floral scene for several decades. They started Dr Delphinium Designs in 1989 and sold it after about a decade to run a ranch on Colorado's Cebolla River. They returned and started Cebolla, which also sells antiques, pottery, chocolates and candles. They had been back on the Dallas floral scene only a few years when Oprah dubbed Cebolla her favorite florist in Dallas. The Huizengas' signature designs contain blooms of wildly contrasting color palettes in a compact arrangement; there's nothing spare or minimalist here, unless you count their living orchid arrangements as minimalist.
Don't let its strip mall exterior fool you. For a small store, Boutique Pet Shop has a terrific selection of fish, including the common (tetras of several varieties) and the unusual (arowanas and bichirs). If you're simply looking to upgrade or downsize your fish collection, they always have a roomful of new and used tanks, even the large sizes that chain pet stores don't carry. Their display tanks (planted, coral, blood parrots and more) are inspiring, and kids of all ages will enjoy the indoor koi pond. And while you're stocking up for your finned friends, you can also get supplies for your two- and four-footed pets.
Remember Little Gus on Lower Greenville? Great little Greek café of yesteryear. Some of the same nice people who ran Gus' now are in the lawn and garden equipment business up by White Rock Lake just off Northwest Highway. Somehow there's something familiar about their set-up. Like the café, it's real modest on the outside with great service inside. You can't sink your teeth into a Little Gus burger anymore, but if the teeth on your chainsaw need fixing, this is the place.
Ignore the fancy spelling of "colour"—it's a British thing—and don't let the hoity-toity address scare you. What we like best about Richard Hayler is its perfect blend of poshness and professionalism minus the snootiness. This woman we know—definitely not our spouse, no way—swears that their prices match or beat other high-end salons, and their colorists expertly mix up just the right shades of 300 or so reds and blonds that she has carefully painted onto her hair every five weeks or so. (It's just coincidental that the missus has red hair. It's all natural! Swear it.)
Bad experiences, whether painful or unfriendly, can prevent those in need of dental care from keeping up with regular check-ups. Avoidance doesn't do a thing for your choppers. We suffered dental phobias for far too long before finding Dr. Blake Williamson. His good nature, gentle approach, positive reinforcement toward our lax flossing practices and his super-friendly support staff provide us with the best dentist office experience we've had in our history of tooth troubles. The most up-to-date technology means no aches afterward, and the How It's Made videos in the exam rooms are an entertaining distraction. Bonus: The office offers free tooth whitening for life, if you keep up with exams. Now that makes us smile.
Moms need sexy lingerie too, and this Lakewood boutique is the place to find some. The artfully arranged array of underwear made by Hanky Panky is surrounded by picture frames, candles, jewelry and cute T-shirts bearing sayings such as "Motherhood's not for sissies." Even if you're not a mom, this is a cute shop for gifts for all of the girlfriends, sisters, daughters and mothers you're constantly wondering how to please on birthdays, Valentine's and Christmas. Or just gift yourself with some sweet new undies that could invite a little hanky-panky (maybe spanky) back home.
We made the mistake once of giving this one to Home Depot, and man did we hear about that. You think Elliot's is just a hardware store? Listen, the fans of Widespread Panic (another group we've pissed off royally) aren't as noisy as Elliot's devoted shoppers, and we'll admit: They're right. If you want slightly cheaper hardware, sure, the big-box boys might be able to help you out, but God help you if you don't know exactly what you want and where to find it, because it's unlikely anyone else will. Not so at Elliot's. You say you need one of those thingies that screws onto one of those others thingies, and you can describe it, but just not very well. Someone at Elliot's not only knows what the hell you're talking about but will also take you to the aisle where it's located and help you find just the right size. We've made many, many trips to Home Depot, usually about half of them to return thingies we didn't mean to buy in the first place. At Elliot's, one trip gets it right.
Sprouts may not be as flashy as Central Market or as hippie-dippy as Whole Foods, but what they lack in pizzazz they more than make up for in price and convenience. Have you ever actually tried to shop at Whole Foods or Central Market at 7 p.m. on a weeknight? You'd be lucky to get out of there alive without being trampled by ravenous Uptowners. But at Sprouts you can pick up the same Kashi cereals, vegetarian chick'n patties and tofu cream cheeses, often for less money, and be out of there in no time. Their produce selection may not be as extensive as some of their hoity-toity competitors, but their fruits and vegetables are always fresh and cheap, and their meals-to-go and bulk departments aren't shabby either. And if you're running low on dough, check out their weekly ad at sprouts.com, where they let you in on all the best deals. Bartlett pears at 69 cents a pound?! Check and mate, Whole Foods.
Good fly fishing shops seem to have a hard time in Dallas. Could it have anything to do with a climate that's Trout Hell? Against the odds, TailWaters Fly Fishing has us hooked. This cool new store on the McKinney Avenue trolley line looks and feels like somebody plucked it out of Montana and dropped it here. A knowledgeable and friendly staff, good supply of flies, lots of angler tchotchkes, good range of rods, including ones by Dallas-based Temple Fork—this place has everything to help you forget where you really are. They'll also help you plan fly fishing trips and advise you where the big ones are biting. As a full-service fisherman's helper, they're very fly indeed.
We are including this for one very good reason: You're more or less paying for this anyway, what with the tax breaks and publicly subsidized dough Dallas poured into Ross Perot's piece of property years ago, so ya might as well give yourselves a pat on the big ol' back. For whatever reason—film fests, traveling friends, spa trips, dinner plans—we've found ourselves visiting the W often since its opening last year. And, yeah, hipsters love their Belmont in the Cliff and old-timers love their classy-charming Adolphus and the visionaries can't wait for their Mandarin Oriental, but the W offers just what we were expecting: sleek, cool, comfortable, the coolest swimming pool in town (even if it overlooks the minimum-security jail, ugh), the blissful Bliss spa and one of the best restaurants in town (Tom Colicchio's Craft). And we've heard about issues with hotel security being a tad over-eager on occasion, but that's how we like our fancy-schmancy hotels—well-protected to keep out the riff-raff that really oughta be staying at the Ritz-Carlton or ZaZa. Move along now. But next year, this goes to the Stoneleigh, assuming they don't screw up that multimillion-dollar renovation. They won't. Fingers crossed.
That drive down to Brownsville can be a real hassle, and they're shooting people in Nuevo Laredo a little too often to make shopping there worthwhile. Best to let La Mariposa handle the Mexican importing for you. No, they don't carry cheap prescription drugs, but they do have a lovely selection of Mexican folk art, jewelry, embroidered clothing and home décor items imported from and inspired by our neighbors to the south. Dig their Day of the Dead trinkets and sculptures, which make great gifts for those who deserve little skeletons.
Visit this fruteria for a taste of one of the best parts of Mexico. Down there colorful fruit stands dot every busy corner selling fresh-squeezed juice and smoothies. This little store in Oak Cliff is packed with boxes overflowing with fruit from Mexico, and depending on the season, from all over Latin America too. There's papaya, coconut and pineapple, mangos and even a fridge full of edible cacti. The glass counter is abloom with freshly cut fruit, including chocolate-dipped strawberries. And you can order fresh-squeezed juice and any fruit (we recommend mango) served with lime and red chili. That'll put a skip in your sip.
We counted 'em—11 different styles of boys' blue jeans, plus numerous khakis, cargo pants and camouflage jeans. Faded, un-faded; dark blue, light blue or charcoal; with or without reinforced knee patches—they come in all kinds, and the best thing is sizes. Unlike a lot of discount purveyors, Old Navy always has the slim and husky sizes you need in stock. And these clothes will have your kid looking sharp at great prices, including frequent buy-two-or-more-for-a-special-price deals. We probably don't need to sell you on Old Navy's girls' selection, because chances are your daughter is already shopping there.
Sure, you can spend all weekend prowling the local gardening stores, picking out the perfect annuals and organic herbs and filling up the back of your SUV with bags of mulch and fertilizer. But when Sunday night rolls around and all the stores have closed, how do you sate your gardening jones? Click on over to Clean Air Gardening online. Their selection of products for environmentally friendly gardening is vast: rain barrels, compost bins, organic fertilizers and additives. The big item is the garden tool that jump-started site founder Lars Hundley's passion for online retailing: the push reel mower. Our order (an upside-down tomato planter, if you're curious) arrived quickly and was well-packaged. While Clean Air Gardening is online only, now that the seeds of retail success have been planted, they plan to plant a showroom in the Dallas Design District soon.
It's time to lighten up. We mean environmentally, as in lightening your energy consumption. An easy place to start is by changing all the old light bulbs in your bat cave to the new long-lasting, Energy Star-certified, low-wattage variety. They have a bounty of bulbs at Current Energy, the Knox Street boutique for all things energy-wise. Besides lights, they also can enlighten you on everything from switching to cost-cutting electric suppliers (takes 10 minutes at one of their computers) to the best way to insulate your attic with recycled materials. They'll even do a "house audit" (for a fee) to let you know everything you could do to save as much as 50 percent on air-conditioning, electricity and appliances in your new (or old) place. And they'll give you a fresh-baked cookie while you browse. Best to keep up your own energy, right?
Quick quiz: Would you rather have to choose a good, reasonably priced bottle of wine, or overhaul the engine in your car? Yeah, we'd go with the engine overhaul too, and we know precisely dick about motors. Why, oh why, does buying a bottle of fermented grape juice have to be such a royal pain? We just want to bring a nice gift to a dinner party without breaking the bank or facing those awkward, wooden smiles when we hand our more knowledgeable hosts something they wouldn't wash their feet with. We don't have an effin' enology degree. We don't want to know the DNA sequence of the variety of grape we're drinking. We just want to get out of the store without spending a fortune or having the clerk laughing behind our backs. That's why we shop Sigel's—not the huge variety of wines and spirits in every price range, and not the huge cases of cold beer. We go there because they have very nice people who will guide wine idiots to a reasonable bottle, without leaving you feeling like you've just been pantsed.
Suits? What do we know about suits? A week's worth of work clothes around this joint consists of two pairs of jeans, five T-shirts and a pair of flip-flops. Sometimes, though, the missus insists we look less like the reprobate we are. For funereal and wedding gear (same diff), you got your mall. For casual (read: everything else), we shop REI's racks of Columbia Sportswear, North Face and their own comfortable, cottony house brand. Natural and high-tech fibers, plenty of cargo pants and shirts with big, big pockets, fit for casual Friday at the office or hitting the trail—because we're men, dammit, and you just never know when you might have to tear off and answer the call of the wild, all while hauling your BlackBerry, encased in sweat-wicking synthetic linen. Our fave? The REI Adventure Pants, because there's always an adventure in our pants.
About two years ago, those of us who dug the mid-century décor of Eames, Stow Davis, Miller and Dunbar had a place to go for a much-needed chair, side table or console record player. The place was Metro Retro in Lakewood, with Andrea Jennings on hand and on the lookout for anything Eisenhower-era. Then she closed up shop, and we somehow found ourselves stranded styleless with a futon and a cinderblock bookshelf. Well, Jennings is back, this time in a smaller storefront on Lower Greenville. She's got a fresh stock of vintage pieces (selling quickly) and goofy gift items that are technically modern but with a wink at the past: Forbidden Planet journals, B-movie DVDs, pet-related funnies and cocktail accessories pepper the 1950s to 1970s furniture and wearables. Jennings is still settling into the new locale, unloading more and more every time we've visited, but the old Metro Retro popcorn machine has made an appearance—a sign that all is well in this '50s haven.
Are you contributing what you should to your 401K? Are you a good candidate for investing in a mutual fund, or should you have a Roth IRA? What goals do you have in terms of retirement income? All of these questions can be mind-boggling. Hell, on what we make, they may not even make sense, but James Lehman can help put it all into perspective. One meeting with the man (you'll be coached on what info to bring beforehand, fret not) puts your mind at ease when it comes to planning for that small business, college fund for the kids, a home in the country or whatever you have your heart set on years, or even decades, down the road. Lehman is a master at explaining in layman's terms what a few dollars squirreled away now can do for you later. This guy is money, man.
If chintz makes you cringe and fringe makes you break out in a sweat, the clean lines of affordable furniture at West Elm will make you jump with joy. The first West Elm in the Dallas area—and only the second in Texas—the airy Mockingbird Station store makes furniture shops offering the overstuffed and multipillowed sofas that are so popular in Dallas seem fusty and old-fashioned. West Elm's upholstered furniture comes in leather and solid fabrics to provide a backdrop for sculptural tables, bookshelves and storage pieces in wood, steel and laminate. The look is mid-century modern meets second-millennium luxury. Sofas and modular seating range from $749 to $2,000. West Elm also specializes in practical but cool home office furniture—never easy to find. Then there's that behind-the-scene stuff: closet organization, office storage and "spa storage" in solid teak. Spa storage...who knew that was a category of case goods? The translation: "a place to keep your towels and soap in the bathroom." All that simplicity can get a tad boring, so West Elm also has a spattering of what might be called '50s Follies, such as cascading capiz shell lamps, sunburst wall mirrors and clocks, and hanging squares of stainless steel which can be linked as a room divider. Even though she might have looked prim and proper, June Cleaver wasn't boring.
We're complete birding novices, but on a recent splurge we bought a couple of feeders, hoping to attract the little dinosaurs (read your science books, kids) to liven up the backyard. At Wild Birds Unlimited, they'll sell you bird-friendly feeders on poles that don't lean and hummingbird feeders that don't also summon every ant, bee and wasp in the county. The staff here doesn't just wing it—they know their merchandise and have tons of useful information about the feathered friends that live in our backyards. Got a pesky squirrel problem? Tired of invasive house sparrows taking over all your birdhouses? Bluejays not digging your nuts? You'll find your solutions here. Happy birding.
It's the store where Lucy Ricardo's furniture went for recycling. The 1950s and '60s couches, chairs and dinettes are just the beginning of the retro-coolness at this Lower Greenville shop. Lula B's also stocks antique and vintage dishes, knickknacks, toys, purses, paintings and costume jewelry. That big round blue velvet bed has David Lynch flair (with a dash of Hef). The bone-shaped coffee tables and oversized plastic sunglasses are way groovy in an Austin Powers-y way. Old high school jackets, funky uniforms and way-gone LPs can play to the kinkiest fantasy. Think you look cute in those white vinyl go-go boots? Live the dream, kitten.
Best Oral Surgeon
Craig Williams, DDS, Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery
Say you find a dentist that you really dig (see above). Then said dentist says, "I'm going to refer you to an oral surgeon to have that removed." Panic attack? Not if the surgeon is Dr. Craig Williams. The docile gent carries on a family practice that's been around since 1897...and that's not a misprint. This family believes in teeth. Williams is swift, calming and, dare we say, paternal. He'll chat you up about Sorta's latest (giving full disclosure that his son's in the band) or he'll just ask about the book you have in your lap while he readies his saws and pliers (or something...we couldn't look). Pain management is a high priority to Williams and his staff. Since mouth surgery is a pain to start with, any additional anesthetics are welcomed.
Dallas District Clerk Gary Fitzsimmons runs three passport offices, but we like the one downtown. If you have to run the gantlet of passport-getting, you get to see the rebuilt George L. Allen Courts Building, which is pretty nice for a gummint building. And this downtown office is staffed by senior employees who know what they're doing and are pleasant to deal with. We suspect that might be true at the other locations too; in East Dallas at 3443 St. Francis Ave. (214-321-3183) and in North Dallas at 10056 Marsh Lane, Suite 137 (214-904-3030). But downtown, Fitzsimmons tends to run a smart shop. And given the boondoggles travelers are having with securing passports right now (don't plan that honeymoon abroad till you have the blue booklet in hand, my friends), dealing with nice, smart people paid by our tax dollars is somehow reassuring.
After a bad auto accident, the last thing anyone wants is to worry about the insurance hounds, the medical records and anything else but healing. That's where personal injury law guru Joe Smith comes in. The jovial family man has a naturally comforting nature that instantly eases in stressful times. And here's something that proves he's a trustworthy soul: He'll tell you honestly if you don't need his services. Hand over your worries and concentrate on getting over that whiplash while Smith and his team tackle the bureaucracies and get you the settlement to pay the bills.
In its 36th year, Afterimage is one of the oldest art galleries anywhere devoted exclusively to photography. Yep, in our backyard. You can find prints of classic black-and-white pictures by Henri Cartier-Bresson and Ansel Adams and colorful surreal photographs by William Lesch. Jazz greats, documentary work, nudes, landscapes and aerial photographs that look like abstract paintings—the subject matter is endless and the powerful images can be showstoppers in the right room. Afterimage also offers collectible pieces such as the black-and-white print by Imogen Cunningham called "The Unmade Bed," listed for $28,000. If that's out of reach, use the photos here as artistic inspiration. Now where's that camera?
Best Place for Tricks and Treats
Queen of Hearts Costume and Magic Shop
Don't be that guy at Halloween parties who staples condoms to his T-shirt and calls himself a condom tree. Get a real costume this year, and there's no better place to buy or rent your getup than Queen of Hearts in downtown Plano. The shop's been around since 1982, and it's still the best spot in town to find unique, high-quality costumes, as well as all the accessories you'll need to complete your look. Already got your Halloween costume this year? Queen of Hearts has you covered for the rest of the year, too, with Santa and Easter bunny suits, Mardi Gras gear and the perfect duds for the Renaissance Festival, if that's your thing. They also have a complete magic shop and offer lessons for all ages with their staff of professional magicians. But please, for everyone's sake, keep your new "vanishing lit torch" trick away from the office break room.
The first things you see when you walk in Napa Home are Napoleon and Little Bean, two white French bulldogs whose sweet faces and ovoid bodies at complete and utter rest fit with the "simple pleasures for the home and palate" theme of the shop. Napa Home specializes in home accents of natural objects like seashells, fossils, strange pods, odd pinecones and vessels made of turned wood or tortoise-colored glass. The sensual shapes make you want to run your hands over everything. The look is comfortable but also very modern and sleek. It's a great place to shop for gifts for newlyweds who appreciate the out-of-the-ordinary salad bowls, salt and pepper shakers and servers such as Bandeja Laurel trays, shaped like palm leaves and made of shiny alpaca metal and cow horn (naturally shed, of course). Napa Home is also a great place for inspiration. You start to see possibilities in your own backyard. Those giant green bois d'arc "horse apples" (artificial ones are sold at Napa Home) would look good in a large Chinese bowl. The river rocks down by the creek could fill a glass cylinder. Line up a simple display of pomegranates on a fireplace mantel. It's nice to be reminded that some of the most beautiful things in the world don't cost more than $1.98 a pound.
Buying Levi's is a no-brainer. But if you want hip denim hugging your hips—the kind you could wear to the Ghostbar atop the nearby W Hotel—the place to go is LFT (Lifestyle Fashion Terminal), a "concept" shop at Victory Park: 30,000 cavernous square feet with areas dedicated to edgy fashion lines by various designers and a "jeans carousel" similar to the legendary Fred Segal store in Los Angeles. The premium-priced jeans like Hudson, Ksubi and J Brand spin around and around on a contraption you'd find at the dry cleaners, so there's no digging through piles for the perfect pair. Chip and Pepper, one of the featured design lines, has its own space filled with cool jeans. Check out the plastic bins with vintage-look Ts. But don't stop with the jeans. LFT is a great place to scout for a new LBD, that other kind of Ghostbar wear: a tragically hip little black dress. (Anyone who says you need just one LBD is a liar.) Serious fashionistas—you know who you are—should rethink those plans to make a binge shopping trip to New York and drop the airfare on a spree at LFT. It's the perfect cure for the North Dallas mall blues.
Not every woman can afford a Marc Jacobs bag or red-soled Christian Louboutins. (Especially not women who write for the local alt-weekly. But we can dream, right?) What most of us can scrape together the cash for is a favorite spa service. For us, it's a pedicure. And we love the ones at Hollywood Nails & Spa. The actual pedicure part is great, but what we truly adore are the extras such as the foot and calf massage, salt scrub, hot towel wrap and cushy massage chairs. Oh, and did we mention the bar? Have a glass of wine or a beer while you're being massaged, exfoliated, buffed and polished. And this isn't just girly-girl time. Plenty of suits take off their wingtips to let their toesies be pampered here. Hoof it here immediately.
Best Place to Go Before You See Iron Man Next Year
Titan Comics
Not so long ago we were talking to an out-of-town friend who's way into comics, by which we mean he writes and draws a pretty well-known title, so he's actually in comics. We got to talking about comic shops when we mentioned to our friend, "Actually, we're going to Titan today to pick it up." Wait, said our friend. "That's right, you're in Dallas you lucky bastard. I hear that place is amazing." Turns out, as much as we love the all-comics comic store—no action figures, only new titles and back issues lovingly displayed in bagged-and-boarded sleeves placed in long white cardboard boxes—it's got quite the national rep to go along with its copious Best of Dallas awards. Three times, in fact, Jeremy Shorr's Titan Comics near Bachman Lake has been a national finalist for the Will Eisner Spirit of Retailing award presented to the best comics shop in all the land—an honor presented each year at the freaks and geeks' spectacular-spectacular, the San Diego Comic-Con. And, technically, the place does sell more than comics. If you need a Batman sculpture or a cool painted reproduction of a 1940s cover, Shorr also has you covered. Fact is, the place is a cross between a retailer and an art gallery. Yeah, we know—dorks, right?
Giving birth is a bitch. Pain, screaming, pushing, crying—and that's just what the fathers go through. Try being a new mom getting that fat little human being out of you-know-where in something even close to a peaceful environment. It's surprising what a difference little things make in this high-stress situation. Centennial Medical Center goes the distance to turn the birthing process into a pleasant, calm experience. Chances are, if you're giving birth here, you'll get your own room, but that's not even the best part. Parents of newborns are treated to a gourmet meal during their stay, courtesy of the hospital's chef. It's a delicious way to celebrate the family's newest mouth to feed.
Nestled in a narrow nook at Wynnewood Village Shopping Center is one of the hottest hairgoods happenings in the wild and woolly wig scene of Dallas. Didn't think there was a wig scene? Dallas is home to more than 30 specialized wig stores. Add beauty supply businesses that sell wigs and the number rises into the hundreds. What sets Wig Paradise apart? Customer service. Patrons who walk through the doors are immediately greeted by a friendly and attentive staff that make it their mission to help you choose the wig best suited to your needs. Experienced technicians are on hand to cut, trim, thin and style your wig right there, right then. The stock is not limited to full cap wigs, but also includes falls, pieces, braids, wiglets, puffs, clip-in hair extensions and other creative hair solutions available in both synthetic fibers and human hair. Look for staffers Linda or Shannon to give you advice and a true analysis of what looks best on you. It could be the difference between looking like a million bucks—and looking like you've got a wig on your head.
Among environment-conscious gardeners, "locally grown" is the hot trend. Buying local products supports nearby growers and manufacturers, boosts the local economy and, for the consumer, means fresher items that have spent less time in a truck and endured fewer preservative processes. For many backyard gardeners, locally grown means your very own veg patch outside the back door. Rabbit Hill Farm, whose products are sold in a number of gardening stores hereabouts, is based in Corsicana, where they give a crap about organic gardening—rabbit crap, to be specific, which is rich in nitrogen and doesn't need composting like other manures. They also sell worm castings, called "black gold" and highly valued as a soil amendment. Rabbit Hill Farm uses both to blend special gardening products such as Bunny Trails and Native Texas Plant Food. If you want to try your own hand at vermicomposting (using a bin of worms to break down kitchen and yard waste), order some of their red wrigglers. Appropriate somehow to receive a wriggly ball of worms by snail mail.
A place as esoteric and edgy as the House of Dang really shouldn't be quite so reliable, but there's just no denying it. Whether it's Mom's birthday, your nephew's bar mitzvah or a just-for-the-hell-of-it present for a down-in-the-dumps friend, dang, this house has the perfect thing. For Mom, how about a one-of-a-kind coin purse made from vintage fabric? And that nephew would be down for a big red pillow with a screen-printed monster face, right? The list goes on, from cuddly onesies for babies to funky-fun handmade jewelry. The House of Dang features affordable, high-quality everything for anyone. Best of all, most of their merch is locally made, so you know you're giving one of your neighbors the gift of steady employment.
Best Saltwater Swap
Dallas/Fort Worth Marine Aquarium Society
Bubble, bubble, there's toil and trouble setting up a 200-gallon saltwater aquarium on your own. If you're determined to do it, pay a visit to the Buy and Sell forums on the Web site of the Dallas/Fort Worth Marine Aquarium Society. You'll meet fellow hobbyists who can outfit you with price-savvy used equipment and stock, from tank to Tonga branch and metal halides to Montipora, often at 50 percent (or less) of the cost of a new item. And considering aquarists' love of upgrading and the large membership of the forums, you're likely to find that the item you want (or someone who wants to buy your item) is just a short swimming distance away.
Dallas is a fine place to shop, but this city does an awful lot of importing chic looks from somewhere else. Like other stores, Accents Fashion Accessories in the West Village brings in a fair amount of imported baubles, but their in-house designers outshine them all. The store sparkles with color in the afternoons when the sun pours in, highlighting the displays of hundreds of pieces of wildly colored jewelry made by the Accents crafters. Luminescent beads and gems are an Accents specialty, and anyone who craves a little extra shimmer to glam up a cocktail dress or a favorite T-shirt will find it among the gleaming treasures here.
Only a real runner can help a runner find the right running shoe. Duncan Cragg, a Dallasite by way of South Africa, is not only a runner extraordinaire, he's an expert on kinesiology and stride and all of that high-tech study-of-movement blah-blah. He'll tell you which styles and brands of shoes you'd need depending on what distances and speeds you're running, then have you put them on and take a jog around the in-store track. He'll analyze your gait and pronation and produce the perfect shoe to further your fleet-footed dreams. Ready, set, go!
Almost everybody has feet—and if you don't we're sad for you—but there's only one place to go to dress them up for both men and women, and that's Nordstrom. More than $500 to spend on footwear? Come on over and sit next to us, Richie Rich, and we'll tell you all about the Santoni and Ferragamo men's loafers that would look just peachy on you. But don't worry, they have comfortable, stylish pairs for less than $100 or so. Need a pair of strappy, tiger-print pumps? Well, they may not have your size, fella, but for women there are enough brands and styles, in prices ranging from less than $100 to more than you even want to think about, to waste an entire weekend afternoon. Don't let the cheesy piano player fool you: Nordstrom may look intimidating if your idea of fancy shoes is spelled p-a-y-l-e-s-s, but if you look carefully and shop the sales, you can walk out with happy feet wrapped in a pair of super-comfy ECCOs that will last four times as long as those cheap honkers, and that's a bargain.
Over the years, Elm Street Tattoo has earned random bits of publicity—on TV, blogs and in rags like this one. But it's not that they needed any, really. Good word of mouth is the biggest prop anyone can give a tattoo shop, and they get plenty from thousands of blissfully inked customers. The shop is home to celebrated Big D tat gun-slinger Oliver Peck (winner of the 2001 Guinness World Record Challenge for most tattoos in 24 hours, mind you), along with skin-prickers Dean Williams, Adam Stewart and Mark Galvan. Peck and company offer tattoos ranging from traditional sailor themes to Dia de los Muertos designs, pin-up art and complex original designs. The crew offers fine detail, topnotch healing advice and a super-clean environment in which to undergo the needle.
Hey, one man's trash is another's treasure and pleasure—or so we tell ourselves when that hoarding obsession kicks in at Dolly Python. Old toys such as 1950s Erector Sets in the original boxes or Lincoln Logs! Wooden Fisher-Price Little People! Retro tapestry and leather suitcases! Vintage shoes and old books! It's a perfect storm of nostalgia and avarice—or old crap, if you're not the sentimental kind. Among our favorites are the not-quite-perfect paintings of people we don't know, items we truly covet and will, when we have a place larger than a one-bedroom apartment, display in places of honor.
One day there are live football players posing in the shop's windows. On another, Olympic gold-medal gymnast Carly Patterson practically flies through the doors. We know, combining games and gladiolas is about as transcendent as Slice evolving into Sierra Mist. But it sure beats buying roses by the bushel at Sam's. This florist boasts unique arrangements, custom silk designs, wide delivery areas, those popular Wik candles, handmade jewelry and paintings from local artists that say "boutique" more than "strip mall." Their loyalty to local athletes is shown in their promotions. To tie into last year's Allen High School homecoming, shop owner Kim Lee hired team members to pose for a few hours wearing exotic mums in her display window. As for Ms. Patterson, the tumbler apparently craves petals like medals, and she gets her posies here.
If you're looking for a gift for your girlfriend and have no idea what she wants—or for that matter, what any woman wants—Accents is your store. Located in the West Village, the surprisingly affordable boutique sells an array of stylish jewelry that looks artsy but not too artsy, kind of like Scarlett Johansson. The necklaces, which start as low as $19, are striking, including handmade varieties with stones of different colors and shapes. Perhaps best of all, the salespeople can tell you what's in without sounding condescending, which in the boundaries of the haughty West Village ranks as the greatest coup of all.
One of Uptown's pitfalls is that it's easy to feel like a poorly dressed pauper amid the shiny happy people and high-priced merchandise. The great thing about Pitaya is that it looks just as nice as the surrounding stores but doesn't share their inflated prices. There are funky purses, necklaces and earrings and a decent selection of stylish basics that won't have you walking out with nauseating, nail-biting, after-purchase guilt. And while most of the tanks, skirts and T's are in bold, basic colors, there are also some uniquely patterned dresses that remind us of the world's favorite hip discount warehouse: H&M. Hmmm, with Pitaya so nearby, there's no excuse not to spend on trends.
We've been fans of the funky chic duds in Armhole for a long while. When they moved from Lakewood to Uptown we worried, "Oh, no! No more neighborhood friendly!" But we were mistaken. Since the shift in May 2006, the shop has developed an even better, laid-back, customer-friendly vibe. The boutique's casual seduction of our paycheck is sweetened by siblings Ryan and Matt Abbott's ability to remember our names and recommend must-haves, but the solid gold draw for us lies at the T-shirt bar. Armhole offers the fab-fitting American Apparel and Alternative Apparel tees, plus they're always getting new decals to select from. Choose from hair band logos or cursing cartoons, from Dia de los Muertos and glam graphics. They have it all to heat-press while you wait (custom designs are also available for pick up in a few days)...and many in sizes for doggy tees too. Bonus: Hip 'rents will dig the decals perfectly sized for the shop's selection of onesies and infant tees.
Smelly, cavernous and always too hot or too cold, depending on what'll make you most uncomfortable for the season, Garland Road Thrift is everything a real thrift store ought to be: Kind of a dump and full of great finds. Garland Road Thrift is where tony Lakewood folk and fed-up packrat grandmas get rid of their excess goodies. The prices are clutch-the-pearls low. We found a barely used alligator handbag for $10 and a mink stole for $20. Go through the racks for gems like a strapless velvet cocktail dress or pin-striped blazer. And do not miss the wall-to-wall housewares section, perfect for anyone seeking to complete their beer stein, gold-plated animal statue or hand-painted teacup collections. If it floats your boat or came over from the Old Country in one, it's probably for sale at Garland Road Thrift.
Throughout this Best of Dallas issue you'll no doubt find a dozen or so entries for NorthPark Center retailers, and why not, as the recent addition has turned the swell into the swellegant. But our kiddo has but two great loves in the new wing: Teavana, because he inexplicably loves him a hot MattéVana, and Puzzle Zoo, the California-based toy store with four locations, ours being the sole spot outside of the Golden State, lucky us. The place seems small, but it's packed with everything imaginable for the kid or the kid within: hundreds of Star Wars action figures and toys (some of which came from old Target and Wal-Mart racks, upping their rare factor), educational doodads for those more inclined toward the learnin', up-to-the-second movie tie-ins, PixelBlocks and puzzles, remote-controlled extravaganzas and penny-ante whatchamacallits your parents played with when they were kids. And the rich geek can walk back to the glass cases lining the back walls to gaze at the really expensive toys. Speaking of, how much is Dr. McCoy's tricorder again? Oh, that much.
A grocery store can be as much a status symbol as designer shoes. Manolo fans clip-clop to Central Market. Birkenstocks hike to Whole Foods. Sensible Nike wearers sprint to Tom Thumb with loyalty card in hand. But what about workboot people and flip-flop people and generic sneaker people? They shop Fiesta, where you'll find only a few Lean Cuisines but dozens of brands of tortillas, salsas and ethnic spices. The international foods aisle is well-stocked with imports. When's the last time you made a pan of spaetzle anyway? This store shows international flair and shopping here is a good show too. It's hopping at every hour of the day. On Saturdays and before holidays, Fiesta actually feels like a party.
Face it: Antique stores are just resale shops, offering stuff that has managed to outlive the abuse dished out by a series of households where real people ate, slept and kept up with the Joneses. In most antique stores or malls, merchandise is wide but not deep—in other words, a little bit from various eras, countries and styles. Specializing in antiques and collectibles from France, The Whimsey Shoppe gives shoppers a unique window into French history, culture and style (with a dollop of cheek) in two huge stores: 12,000 square feet on Henderson Avenue and 11,000 square feet on Oak Lawn Avenue. The owners, Suzie and Wendell Patterson, scour the French countryside, traveling more than 2,500 miles on each shopping trip, so you don't have to. (And really, who'd want to do all that French traveling, with the culture and fine food and wine and whatnot?) The Pattersons suck it up for you, God love 'em, coming home several times a year with containers of French antiques that range from rustic farm tables to beds that would be perfect in Marie Antoinette's boudoir. Then they send customers The Whimsey Report, a pamphlet of black-and-white drawings of unique items and an account of their adventures in antiquing through Normandy, Burgundy, Champagne and Provence that touches on politics, food and fashion. (Really, we don't envy them. Rubbing our noses in it? No, not at all.) Specialties include French farm tables, armoires and copper. It only takes a few pieces to make it appear as if you found them on your last trip to the Languedoc. Like you'd ever want to go there, what with Oklahoma so close.
Best Vet for Overprotective Pet Parents
East Lake Veterinary Hospital
If you refer to your pets as your "babies" and always make sure they get their dinner before scrounging up something for yourself, then chances are you know how hard it is to find a good veterinarian. We've seen them all: the unprepared recent graduate who keeps leaving the room to flip through medical journals; the good ol' country boy who's better suited to working on horses and cows; the overly cautious vet who can't take your pet's temperature for fear they'll feel a little discomfort...it's far too easy to end up at an office with one of those. But at East Lake, you can finally relax and leave your cat or pup in the capable hands of friendly experts in a comfortable, clean environment. And sure, there are cheaper places out there, but when it comes to our precious little fur-covered children, why settle for anything less than the best?
Best Video Store (Especially If You Want to Meet Jim Schutze)
Premiere Video
That last part there's not really a tease: Mr. Dallas Observer is a regular customer, always in line with a copy of Chinatown, Deadline U.S.A. or All the President's Men—or A River Runs Through It, hawhawhaw. Because, see, Premiere has all those movies—and pretty much everything else ever released on home video, in this country or any other. They also stock every British TV series not yet on BBC America. Put it another way: Go to Premiere right now with a list of your 10 favorite movies, and if Premiere doesn't have, oh, eight of them in stock right now, Jim Schutze will give you his copy of Red Shoe Diaries Vol. 12.
What really makes a good vintage clothing store is variety. Of price, style, era and finery. We want to peruse chiffon formals from the 1950s and rock tees from the 1970s. We want a lot to choose from but not so much that we can't push back the racks to see what's there. Pandemonium's retro fashionistas Leslie Daum and Debbie Cardenas stock their charming pink house on Henderson Avenue with gently used clothing and accessories they've painstakingly inspected and deemed worthy of new owners. Need a patent leather handbag or a pair of Jackie O sunglasses? A sequined ball gown? A vintage leather jacket? Pandemonium probably has them. And these ladies keep prices so reasonable, you can shop early and often every season. Daum and Cardenas also have their own Pandemonium line of separates made from recycled tees and other vintage fabrics. Check out the Our Lady of Guadalupe circle skirts and just pray they have your size.
IKEA just can't be beaten in this category because of the sheer breadth and wow factor of its (cheap) inventory. Start with (cheap) kitchen cabinets and appliances. Add the (cheap) bathroom sink, cabinets and towels. Move on to the bedroom for everything from mattresses to wardrobes, comforters to chests of drawers. Did we mention they're cheap? Outfit the media room, the home office, the dining nook. Yeah, some IKEA merchandise might fall apart after the first party, but it's possible to find everything you need to build a comfortable nest from the studs out without going broke. By the time you need to replace it, your taste will have changed anyway. And maybe you won't be so damned broke.
Five or 10 times a day at Froggie's 5 & 10 on Knox, the phone rings and high tiny voices ask if the new Webkinz are in. If you're not a child or you don't know one, Webkinz are the stuffed toys that come with secret codes tying in to a Web site full of stuff to do with your new "pet." But no toy, no entry to the Web world. So Webkinz, which some kids collect by the dozens, tend to get grabbed up at toy stores as quickly as they arrive. The staff at Froggie's, however, love their little 'uns, so they limit the purchase numbers per buyer and they'll even hide a 'kinz or two under the counter for their best customers. While you're in the store, check out the massive collection of wind-up toys, old-fashioned yo-yos, board games, magic tricks, old-timey candy and booklets of temporary tattoos. And do pet Fric and Frac, the store's resident kitties, who like to catnap in the sunny front window.
This ain't no Western store for gringos, unless you're the sort who likes pink Mexican wedding shirts with scorpions stitched on the sleeves. Whatever your ethnicity or fashion bent, the folks at El Nuevo Estilo will welcome you like family. The store opened 16 years ago as a hat shop, and cowboy hats are still its specialty. Customers drive in from Amarillo and Midland to buy hats here that aren't sold anywhere else. Ask the owner to show you the lid with the hidden weed compartment (it's called El Dealer) or the style with the 18-karat gold "placa" on its brim (it's called El Mafioso). You may think it takes a touch of sunstroke to drop $500 on a straw cowboy hat. But for rancheros from Durango and Sinaloa, that makes perfect sense.
What do you wear when the vibe is casual but you don't want to look like car-pool mom? When you want to have a kicky style but not seem like you're masquerading as a 15-year-old cheerleader? At Cotton Island on the southeast corner of Snider Plaza, you can find colorful 100 percent cotton tops and skirts that not only are cool and flirty but feel that way too. Cotton breathes. As the swelter of summer's end makes a transition to the warm days of autumn, it's great to have clothes that don't stick to the sternum. The shop also carries trendy handbags and Bernardo sandals, de rigueur for a stop at the country club or a weekend at the lake house. And hey, go ahead and take your teenager too. She'll like Cotton Island's minis, T's and flippy skirts.
Neither Stefani McMurrey Watters nor Nicole LeBlanc are, as far as we know, mad. Milliners long ago gave up the nerve-damaging mercury compounds they used at the beginning of the Industrial Age to stiffen felt hats, so unlike Lewis Carroll's Mad Hatter, Watters and LeBlanc don't appear to be crazy—except that they make hats. In 2007.
But that's not necessarily madness. Hats are a home-based Internet business for Watters and a former career and art form for LeBlanc. And besides, they just like hats.
"The only place a lady doesn't wear a hat is in her own home, because then you look like you might have someplace to go," says LeBlanc, sitting with a wooden head-shaped block at her feet among boxes of vintage ribbons, feathers and bows in her home near Mockingbird Lane.
You might be going to a rodeo or a country-and-western-themed nightclub, for instance, and feel the urge to express your inner cowgirl princess. In that case, Watters has just the topper for you at SMartHats.com.
"My signature look is the tiara on the hat," Watters says, referring to the crystal bling she applies to colorful straw hats she imports from China along with most of the tiaras. A woman who might feel silly wearing a tiara, which would be just about any woman not named Queen Elizabeth, can mount her crown on a cowboy hat and look just fine. The garage shelves in Watters' home just north of LBJ are lined floor to ceiling with a rainbow of Chinese straw and silvery jewels, ready for Watters to mix and match and add a "rock-star roll" to the brims—two tight tubes on either side of the head.
There are no bubbling steamers to soften felt, no tiresome stretching of material over a wooden block, but like we said, it's 2007, and hat traditions aren't what they used to be. Today, unadorned hats are usually manufactured by cheap Chinese labor or in Europe. The milliner does the designs and adds the decorative touches. If you think about it, Watters' business, which she started in 2002, is the epitome of the new American economy—foreigners provide the manufacturing, we do the designs and selling, and the Internet and rapid shipping link the maker to her customers.
And if you can get a magazine to publish a photo of a celebrity like Jessica Simpson wearing one of your hats, the next thing you know, you have boxes of hats stacked in your yard awaiting shipping. That happened to Watters, who quickly found out that the combination of celebrities who like free stuff plus publicity can add a kick to your start-up, one-woman business.
But that was early on, when Watters was making hats full-time, hauling them in her car trunk to clubs, where customers would buy them off her head, and phoning up fashion editors to pitch her brand. Now a new mother, she runs the business part-time, mostly online, though her hats are also on sale in boutiques here and nationwide, as are some knockoffs made by people who cut corners with cheaper Chinese hats and plastic bling, she complains.
Even the sort of high-end traditional hats that were once LeBlanc's career at Fleur de Paris, a custom millinery and couture shop in New Orleans' French Quarter, rely on foreign labor. "Most everything I use comes from somewhere else," says LeBlanc, who made hats at the shop for 24 years, the last 15 spent commuting to her job via plane from Dallas.
She quit Fleur de Paris in May, but she still makes hats, either blocking them herself—a steamy, labor-intensive task she hates—or ordering them blocked and then completing them with ribbons, flowers, feathers, etc. Think of it like a painter buying a pre-stretched canvas rather than framing and stretching it herself. Do you care if Picasso tacked his own cloth?
Many of the hand-crafted cloth flowers, stitched ribbons and intricately shaped feathers LeBlanc uses are antiques she has recovered at sales. "Like every labor-intensive craft, it's just not done here anymore," LeBlanc says of her collection of cut feathers, but she might as well be talking about the entire craft. The demand for a stylish cloche hat isn't big enough to support more than the handful of remaining craftspeople who make the basic hat shapes she finishes.
Which is a shame, really, because LeBlanc can think of lots of good reasons to wear hats. "Nobody knows when I'm having a bad hair day," she says. "And people will hold the door open for you."
And if you're a lady wearing a hat—or at least a really stylish hat—"a smile will get you things" you might not otherwise get, like politeness.
And there's nothing crazy in wanting that. — Patrick Williams
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