Salon Pompeo

Lisa Nguyen is a small woman of Native American and Asian descent obsessed with hair removal. She waxes her entire face because peach fuzz "is not cute," she says. Not that she's going to judge you if you decide to keep those tiny hairs that maybe serve a kind of evolutionary purpose. But if you want passion, then you should meet Lisa. She's not a subtle waxer, however. Expect people to notice that your eyebrows look "professionally done." Most women don't have a problem with that. If you do, try someplace else. Also there is a second Salon Pompeo location on McKinney Avenue.

Bettyann and Jimbo's Junkadoodle

Discovering something uniquely cool or fun is exactly what the spirit of shopping at flea markets is all about, and the place with the hippest junk in town is easily Junkadoodle. Owners Bettyann Nugent and her brother Jimmy Henley are dedicated to cramming as many funky items under one roof as possible, with the overflow such as patio furniture pouring into the side yard. Everything from restored chairs, offbeat art, curtains, religious items, light fixtures and guitars can be found among the décor highlighted by pink flamingos. And if they don't have it, Nugent and Henley will hunt it down for you. It's a cool and quirky place to save some dough and have a ball.

Again & Again

We don't have to always buy new new things. We don't have to throw out perfectly good furniture just because it has a stain on it or some ugly piping. We can appreciate the good bones of an old sofa; see the potential in a ripped vinyl chair. Together with Leslie Pritchard, proprietor of Again & Again, we can do it. Stop wasting money and perfectly good furniture, people. Visit the little house on Bonita and Henderson Avenues and take a gamble on a vintage gem. Buy it for less than a new piece, take it home as-is and get creative, or pay a bit more and arrange with Pritchard and her crew to have it stripped of past indiscretions, restuffed, recovered and reborn. Pritchard is known among regular patrons and the city's designers for searching out quality pieces from the past...quality pieces that will, no doubt, last much longer than something flat-packed that assembles with an Allen wrench.

Central Market

Central Market is a Texas conceit. It's huge and has a personality all its own. A regular grocery store is organized by aisles (dry pasta in aisle 10, anyone?) But here you have to wind around corners and mosey from the produce section to probably the best beer selection in Dallas. From the bulk sale of granola to coffee beans, this is a store that's all about you. You choose what you want. Central Market also dresses up the usually terrible experience of shopping by highlighting the week's "foodie finds," which are like staff picks at a local bookstore.

Lakewood Hardware

If there were a sliding scale for store clerk helpfulness, big-box stores would be at the bottom, of course. ("What? Me a sales person? Nah. I just wear this uniform because it's cool-looking.") And Lakewood Hardware would be at the top. The owner/proprietor, Khandoo Nagar, and his two top sales people, Scott and Kevin, have a century of hardware experience between them. But that's maybe the least of it. You walk in this place holding a whatchamacallit before you in one hand like a talisman. A salesperson drifts forward wordlessly, takes it from your fingers, studies it closely, then leads you to exactly the thing you need to fix your problem. It's a good place to visit even when you don't need anything, just to remind yourself how the basic retail customer service model was supposed to work.

The allure of the dollhouse is apparent: A place where the dollhouse owner can carefully control the environment and actions of each doll, building an entire fantasy world with no outside influences or real-life repercussions. Also, tiny stuff just looks cool. Whether you're staging a complicated sociological drama with your dolls or simply creating your dream house, a visit to Through the Keyhole is a necessity. The shop is crammed full of miniatures in every category: food, bedding, decor, furniture, textiles, lighting and more. If you're starting from scratch, Through the Keyhole can also outfit you with an empty dollhouse or a dollhouse kit. You may feel like a powerful giant as you hold a ceramic plate on your fingertip or squint at a small-scale newspaper, but just be a benevolent dictator to your dolls, OK?

Fleetwood's Kit Kat

When owner Fleetwood Hicks and operations director Harvey Herr opened Fleetwood's Kit Kat across the street from SMU in February, business was expectedly slow. But as spring came and word-of-mouth spread, the two knew the beginning of something special was afoot. Specializing only in cruiser bikes, which Herr calls "the ultimate urban bike," Fleetwood's made a breakthrough when they started mixing parts, allowing customers to fully customize their bikes. And for those looking to rent a bike for a day on the Katy Trail, they offer rentals at only $15 for the first hour and $5 for each additional hour. Hicks claims he's already one of the largest cruiser dealers in the Southwest, and with a new Web site on the way, he'll be selling bikes nationwide by the end of the year.

The Stewpot

Don't take our word for it. Go to www.dannahscolors.com/Dannahscolors/Stewpot_Artists/Stewpot_Artists.html and take a look at some of the work being offered by artists in the Stewpot mission's Open Art Studio program for homeless artists. Some of the artists at the Stewpot, a feeding mission for the homeless downtown, produce very "outside" paintings and sculpture—primitive untrained work—but you will also find more sophisticated pieces, well worth the asking prices. The program is a form of art therapy for the three dozen or so street people who take part. Their work offers a powerful window on their world for the rest of us—sometimes beautiful, sometimes painful, always intriguing. To see it, call Cynthia Brannum at the number above or look for upcoming events in the Bishop Arts District or at the downtown Central Library.

Vespa Dallas

If we die and go to heaven—hey, it could happen—we don't want a harp, wings or an angelic choir singing hallelujah. Nope, our idea of bliss is a never-ending summer's day and us, 40 pounds lighter in tailored clothes. We're forever zipping about on a scooter around a gushing fountain with a gorgeous, black-haired, olive-skinned girl riding sidesaddle behind, the wind whipping the hem of her designer dress. "Ciao," we'd say to all the picturesque children splashing in the fountain, giving them that cool Italian backhanded wave. We may never make it to heaven, but we can at least get one step closer with a stop at Vespa Dallas, purveyor of all things smart, stylish and scooter-ish. Their showroom floor, lined with a complete variety of imported Vespa, Piaggio, Genuine and Aprilia bikes is as colorful as a box of jellybeans and just as mouthwatering. (Plus, they finance.) There's a full line of accessories, from helmets and racks to leathers to custom Louis Vuitton seats, plus clothing and caps. Their repair shop around the corner on University Boulevard can add all the special touches you need to trick out your ride and begin living the la dolce vita—with the possible exception of Sophia Loren. Her, you'll have to find on your own.

This store is strictly for men, though we recommend it highly to any woman who has tired of her man's old, threadbare boxer briefs that, having been washed thousands of times, scream for a spicier set of replacements. There's everything from your basic navy and white briefs and boxers to Speedo-style designs covered in hotdogs, roosters or superheroes. You can also opt for a risqué lace-up swimsuit or briefs covered with the American flag. And of course, there's the underwear with the requisite flamethrower front and center. A friend, while showering praise on the shop, says he has only one complaint. "It's clearly the best place to buy underwear," he said. "Now, if I could just stop leaving them at people's houses."

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