Shopping & Services

So you want your ride to shine but you don't have the time or energy to do it yourself. Don't bother with one of those gas station assembly-line washes when, for a few bucks more, you could not only get a hand-polished gleam on the outside, but have the interior vacuumed as well—without having one of those automated brush wheels snap off your antenna. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, this Oak Cliff and West Dallas franchise offers $11.99 inside-and-outside washes. Not only that, but most days it offers oil changes for less than $20. Combine that with the discount wash and you can get out for just over $30—which would only get you one or the other almost anywhere else.

You'll take credit for the good taste when your giftee thanks you for the gift, but deep down in your heart, you'll know it was all Vynsie, Jully and Derek Law making you look good. Sifting through the latest design trends from New York to San Francisco to Tokyo, but always most enthused about handmade local stuff, the folks at We Are 1976 keep their shop turning over with a fresh stock of sleek, useful things for the kitchen or office, books and zines, toy cameras and miniature creations for the sophisticated man or woman of the world who still likes to get down and play with little toy guys on their desk. From J-Pop to steampunk, the stock's always in small batches so you can bet on uncovering something new on each visit. It's also home to great craft classes and workshops from local designers, plus the best stock of Japanese sodas this side of Garland.

Always on the lookout for a way to improve on what's already the best place to get your hair cut, colored and styled, Johnny Rodriguez now has a blow-dry bar at his award-winning salon. So what's a blow-dry bar? Glad you asked. It's actually pretty simple. You drop by the Inwood Village Shopping Center. You get your hair washed. And then you choose one of four blowouts with names like "The Drop-Dead Gorgeous" and "The Big & Beautiful." Of course, this pampering comes at a price: anywhere from $35 to $55 "and up." Then again, Rodriguez has never been confused for Pro-Cuts.

At first glance, Gratitude Vintage looks like any number of vintage shops around town with each of its many rooms filled with racks of clothes, baskets of belts, stacks of vinyl records and display cases teeming with knickknacks, baubles and trinkets. But as you make your way from room to room, soon you'll notice the hats. They're all over. In every room. Some are hung on display racks, but the majority are hanging from the walls–taking up nearly every square—well, round—inch of space. Known for its hat selection, the Oak Lawn-area shop typically boasts a revolving cast of 300 to 400, ranging in price from a few bucks to as high as $300 for some rare designer domes. But, luckily, the vast majority of the hats are tagged at under $40. This year marked Gratitude's 20th anniversary, though in 2008 owner Marion Weger moved the shop to a larger, swankier spot a few blocks away from the original location.

It was so traumatic for Old East Dallas—the whole closing of Dallas' first Whole Foods on Lower Greenville Avenue. Sort of like what the closing of the Metropolitan Museum might be for Manhattan. Then they opened the new store on Abrams and called it "Lakewood"—a knife in the heart for Bohemians. Might as well have called it "Country Club Whole Foods." But at least Whole Foods has honored its East Dallas origins by maintaining what has to be the city's finest selection of granolas. We counted 79 varieties of packaged granola on a recent visit, and that didn't even include the bulk bins where you can mix up your own. In that sense it's still an East Dallas store, even if you do have fend your way past a lot of sweaty 9-year-olds in golf cleats to get to the granola section.

Designing home interiors is only one aspect of 25-year-old SMU grad Doniphan Moore's many talents. He's more of a life stylist, working with design-challenged clients at all budget levels to unify their aesthetic senses, from furnishings to wardrobe to personal style. His own taste fits somewhere between clean traditionalist and soft modern, with a touch of the eccentric. "I embrace the human element of a home," he says, "and don't steer away from the messiness of everyday life. If a bed has to be made up to look good, it's a shame." He's done high-end interiors, low-end home offices, magazine shoots, weddings, floral designs and head-to-toe makeovers. Moore does it all with a keen eye for bargains and it doesn't hurt that he is even funnier and cuter than Oprah's design guru, Nate Berkus. Our crystal ball (which Moore helped us find in a consignment store) predicts that he'll be a major design star too, sooner than later.

The Fiesta grocery store on Ross Avenue in East Dallas bursts at its Hispanic-targeted seams at all hours of the day and night, a taqueria-and-carniceria wonderland of everything needed to make a spicy, south o' the border meal. (Or, you know, it's also a good place to buy toilet paper and cat litter.) But what many don't know is that it's not just a fine place to pick up taco makin's—Fiesta also has the best selection of British, European and Asian imported foods in town, and yes we are looking at you, Certain Giant And Pricey Grocery Store On Lovers Lane. Three kinds of Weetabix? Check. Spaetzle out the wazoo? Yes, please. Looking to fashion a homemade saag paneer? Party on at...Fiesta.

Every bathroom in every workplace, in every restaurant, in every home, needs a spray bottle of Poo-Pourri. The magical potion is to be sprayed on top of the toilet water (as opposed to around you in the air) to provide an aromatic barrier of essential oils and natural fresheners...and, apparently, magic. As in, the stank goes in the water and never comes back out. As in, everything smells nice and fresh before you even bust a move. As in, if you have one bathroom, this will help sustain that teeny shred of romance left in your relationship. Based in Dallas, and run by CEO and founder Suzy Batiz, the company launched its first product in 2007, after a long R&D process. These days there are many varieties of the before-you-go bathroom spray (we like the bergamot, lemongrass and grapefruit of the original), as well as auto aromatherapies and Pooch-Pourri Pet Odor Remover.

A little hard to find (take Walnut Hill east from Stemmons, turn north on Ables, back west on Merrill) but well worth the search. A respected custom sail maker since 1976, Mariner now offers a spacious showroom full of really neat kayaks by a variety of makers. The staff brings deep expertise on the boats but also on bodies of water in the region and beyond. Mariner is also sort of a neat place just to visit, with the big sail-making room in the back. Very nautical. They do boat demonstrations every Thursday evening at White Rock so you can try a boat before buying. It's free, but you do have to call ahead for a reservation. Open 9 a.m.-6 p.m. Monday-Friday, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday.

Ladies, this Best Of award is for you. Not to sound like a corny late-night infomercial, but are you tired of always adjusting your bra or having the four boobs problem because your brassiere doesn't quite cover the top part? Well, the bra fit stylists at Intimacy can help you with your undergarment-related problems. The women's store offers a free bra fit makeover with an expert to see what bra size fits your body best. The bra experts will teach you how to properly wear a bra (yes, there is a proper way to wear a bra other than just strapping the thing on) while still being comfortable. Intimacy also offers more than 90 sizes to choose from in all different styles and colors like sexy red lace or plain Jane white. Who even knew bras came in 90 sizes? Intimacy did.

We should probably just throw in the towel and call this one Best Used Bookstore of All Time on Northwest Highway East of Central and be done with it. If you purchase more than one book a year, you already know about this heavenly, musty smelling place with shelf after shelf of half-priced (or less) paperbacks and hardbacks. You know it's the biggest and best-stocked bookstore, used or new, and includes a good choice of vinyl records and cheap software. If you're like us and read two or three books a week, you also know that Half Price might not have exactly the volume you want, but will certainly offer something you didn't know you wanted. Book-wise, even the consolation prizes are gems, so there's no losing at Half Price. (Unless, perhaps, you use the men's room. Seriously, Half Price, fix that.) Consider this fact: Between reselling what we had read and careful shopping, we were able to stretch a $50 Christmas gift card through almost three months of reading this winter. That's a hint, by the way.

You can stock the Italian kitchen of your dreams from the imported pastas, wines and cheeses lining the racks at Jimmy's, but the real show's in back, under the bright industrial lighting over the meat counter. This is where Jimmy's works its magic, manned by a crew that knows and appreciates the edible animal. Take a bite of the Italian Stallion, a sandwich fat with seven kinds of meat and two cheeses, and there'll be no doubting this 50-year-old family joint's credentials as a meat-lover's paradise. How else do you explain the pig's head in the display case sculpted entirely of ground meat?

When we've already blown our budget on furniture groups, window treatments or limited-edition prints by local artists, then the first place we start our hunt for reasonably priced accents to properly round out a room is The Consignment Solution. The shop's large showroom always seems to be filled with new treasures. On its website is the boast: "We sell 85 percent of our pieces within 60 days." But, other than the fantastic deals we've found on mirrors, lamps and vases, the main reason we frequent the Lakewood spot is that it isn't nearly as cluttered as most consignment shops. They've left plenty of room between the bars, chairs, chests and desks, so that you're not falling over a couch just to get a peek at the price tag on a table lamp.

This August, Dallas mourned the passing of its oldest and most iconic health food store with the closing of Roy's Nutrition Center in Preston Royal Village, caused by the retirement of founding guru Roy Beard, who put terms like wheat germ and bean sprouts in the vocabulary of folks in these here parts. So what does that leave? Whole Foods, the mega-giant health food store whose bigness in size, number and price, seems to defy human scale. Whole Foods does have the Whole enchilada, from organic produce to grass-fed beef to vitamins and nutritional supplements. But it's in this last category that we must defer to a David facing this Goliath. Remember Sundrops on Oak Lawn? You've probably been there at some time or another over the last 35 years. Owner Mark Herrin has kept the thing going since its infancy, and along with other nutritionists and a dietician, will dispense vitamins, supplements and advice for the ills that haunt modern man and woman. Sans café for the last 10 years, there is no produce and no overabundant salad bar, just a high-quality array of substances as well as counseling from those officially versed in the complexities of nutrition. They can recommend stuff to get your diet supplemented, your bones moving and your metabolism off slow burn. Sundrops offers a "30 Minute Free Nutrition Consult" with a professional nutritionist. And in an era where personal service means do-it-yourself, the small, intimate store is a rarity and a gift.

The shop in Lakewood takes eclectic to a whole different level. Run by Forbidden Books and Video founder Jason Cohen and his antique-dealer mom Terry, this quaint repository of collectible treasures mixes antiques, folk art and delicious finds they've culled from flea markets and estate sales. We've wasted—make that invested—hours investigating what's between the walls here. You can find Mad Men-era chairs and lamps or marvel at the weirdness of the found art, tramp art and bizarre religious items (think Jesus framed in bottle caps). When you're craving a strange objet, this place is the answer to your prayers.

Our critics—i.e. people who read us regularly—often talk as though the Observer staff was composed entirely of weed-smoking, band T-shirt wearing, consignment-store-shopping hippie hipsters. In reality, that description is only true for about 85 percent of our staff. The rest of us are Pottery Barn-catalog-reading, overpriced-shoe-wearing, shiny-bauble-loving consumerists just like most of Dallas. Frankly, we don't want to pay good money for that scuffed-up, rump-sprung couch that your Uncle Fred farted into for years, even if it does resemble something from the set of Mad Men. That's one reason we furniture shop at Z Gallerie (the other reason being that we're married to a grown-up). Sure, it's a chain, but it's a chain that offers modern designs in cool, calm, tasteful colors and materials. No cheesy plaids, no ridiculously overstuffed chairs with handles sticking out the sides. Just sleek, comfortable furniture and a wide variety of accessories to dress up your grown-up home at prices that won't make you pass out—much. The hipsters may snicker, but a least we're not stealing postal crates to build bookshelves anymore.

There's no helpless feeling quite like bubble-wrapping your $3,000 SLR camera, dropping it in a mailbox and hoping for the best. With any luck, the package won't be lost, soaked through in the rain or smashed to pieces when some pill-popping long-haul driver bites it careening downhill through the Rockies. Easier, then, to drive yourself to Garland, explain what's wrong and get your camera back in one piece the next day. You'll have to lean over the counter and crane your neck for a look at the mysterious repairman in the back—the man works with machines, not people—but the staff up front will be friendly enough, chatting about their latest photo exploits or one of the antique cameras in the glass case, so it'll hardly even hurt to hand over your camera.

For that funny super-sticky clear tape you need to fix a tear in a tent ("Tenacious tape"), for tubes of seam sealer or replacement buckles for your webbing, that spare hank of no-see-um netting—all those little niggling emergency camping items you really wish you had when you don't have them—REI has the best selection. Of course, you have to be careful you don't fall prey to REI disease and accidentally buy a tent or something when you go in there. The store is in a spot on LBJ that just seems harder to get to the more construction they do in the vicinity. Best plan is to get off LBJ at Dallas North Tollway and try to find your way westbound on the LBJ service drive. REI is between the Guitar Center and Haverty's. But stay off that cell phone or you'll wind up in Coppell, and somebody might sell you a whole house.

Your kid just turned 13 going on 16, and he or she walks 20 feet in front of you in the mall, if still willing to be with you at all. The Xbox will keep them down on the farm for a while, but once the hormones begin to rage—and they do younger than ever before—your Max or Grant or Peyton or Mia will want to go one place and only one place: the mall. It's a silly suburban rite of passage, allowing your kids to go to the mall by themselves, and nowhere do parents seem to trust that transition more than at NorthPark Center, the oldest and best-kempt mall in town. You kid yourself by thinking there is security in numbers; there are certainly plenty of Paul Blarts roaming the majestic corridors of this place. And the AMC movie theater can keep them occupied if the food court doesn't, or they may actually want to shop, but mostly they want to be away from you and with their friends. NorthPark may not welcome this kind of clientele, but it certainly makes itself accessible to them. And where would you rather have your teenager learn about the interplay of consumerism and sex–on the streets or in some fancy-schmancy mall, against the beckoning backdrop of Neiman Marcus, the Apple Store and Journey's?

Well into what might be fall in other parts of the country, Texas remains searing hot, making weekend day trips less than comfortable for those who take issue with sweating straight through their jeans. Strolling with an armful of shopping bags from one end of Deep Ellum to another is decidedly unpleasant when your sneakers are a pool of saltwater, which is why the Deep Ellum Outdoor Market, which brings together Deep Ellum's best shops under one outdoor awning for one Saturday a month, is such a welcome addition to the neighborhood. And hey, they even let folks in from out of the neighborhood to vend musical instruments, crafts and jewelry. How kind of 'em—but diversity's what's gonna keep Deep Ellum on the rise, anyway, and the Deep Ellum Urban Market is a fine example of what happens when people stop wondering when someone else will start up something good, and instead pursue a great idea on their own.

Fiber artist Katie Toohil exudes positive energy from head to toe. Fortunately for her customers, so do her crafts. For years, Toohil has been working with fibers of human, plant and animal varieties. In the more traditional vein, she hand-dyes fibers (from wool to vegan varieties), spins them into yarn and either sells the yarn or creates crocheted scarves, headbands and such. She also uses tie-dye and low-water emersion processes to dye handmade clothing items. (She buys articles now, but is working to sew her own.) But it's the human fiber area where Two Hills Designs finds its most dedicated customers. The nimble-fingered lady not only uses human hair to create custom dreadlock extensions but also offers dread extension dying, styling and installation services that make growing longer dreadlocks take all of several hours. But whatever you order from Toohil and Two Hills, it's sure to come from the fiber of her energetic being.

We consider ourselves pretty savvy, open-minded beer consumers, with tastes that run from tart, brisk witbiers to decadently rich imperial stouts to Belgian ales so complex that mentally processing all the flavors is almost a psychedelic experience. In short, we thought we had a pretty good handle on trying the best beers available in this less-than-beer-friendly state, where geographic distance from coastal breweries, senseless legislation against homegrown breweries and a distributor stranglehold on the industry limit the number of brews consumers can choose from. Then we visited the beer aisle at Whole Foods' Park Lane location. Surrounded on both sides by more than 600 varieties of beer, we felt like the chimps in 2001 when they see the monolith. Except there were two of them, turned on their sides, chilled and filled with beers whose names we'd only heard whispered amidst furtive glances, even beers whose names we'd never heard spoken aloud.

With its sign boasting "ATM Lotto Money Order Cigars" and rack of spank mags near the front door, it looks like just another crummy, run-down convenience store where you're more likely to find Steel Reserve malt liquor and thinly veiled drug paraphernalia than a decent beer. But check out the back cooler and you'll be surprised by the selection of microbrews and imports, including a few we've never seen elsewhere. Even better, the store keeps a list of customer stocking requests. In one memorable visit, we inked in an appeal for Ten FIDY, an expensive and difficult-to-find imperial stout, just below where a shaky hand had scrawled "Strawberry Banana MD 20/20." It was heartwarming to see that the place is willing to take care of you whether you want expensive craft beer or rotgut wine—or Steel Reserve, for that matter.

Take the blade itself in here, and they'll sharpen it while you wait for $8.50. Take the whole mower in, and it's $18.50 and might take a little longer. This is where a lot of pros go. Casey's sells good equipment, too, Stihl and Echo. It's worth nosing around, if you happen to be in the market. Actually finding the place is not so easy, however, especially with the construction on Northwest Highway. It's really on West Lawther Drive on the north side of Northwest Highway, so you have to find your way through the construction mess and get on Lawther going away from the lake.

What is it with you people in North Oak Cliff and all your slow-living, community-gardening, bike-friendly, pet-friendly, do-it-yourself selves? Don't you want to buy Chinese like the rest of us? Don't you want the instant gratification that comes with going over your credit card limit? No, these Bishop Arts types are looking for actual meaning in their lives, and they are turning to places like Make Shop & Studio to find it. Here, they can create in Make's modern craft lounge, taking classes in sewing, screen printing, glass etching, stamp making, silk painting, felt rug design or anything the right side of their brain can conjure up. And much like eating only what you kill, you can sell what you make in Make's boutique, where dozens of "designers and crafters and makers" are featured. It's all just so damn, how can we say this...Austin.

If your roommate leaves one more—just one more—nasty dish in the sink for days on end, you are outta there. And the neighbor's yippy, persnickity dog? Yeah, he could take a night off every once in a while, and you wouldn't complain. But let's be real: The process of finding a new apartment often seems as bad as putting up with whatever's wrong with your current pad. Craigslist is a slog, and who has time to spend a Saturday getting mostly ignored by bored apartment managers? The easy solution: Wendy Lacy at Classic Lofts and Spaces. With nary a hint of smarmy salesmanship, Lacy listens to her clients' needs and finds three or four fitting properties that can be viewed in just a couple of hours—over lunch, maybe, or before a dinner date. She'll whisk you away from properties that don't promptly deliver on their promises and only takes a cut when you rent something she's shown you. Lacy wants her clients to find homes, not just places to crash until something better comes along, and her no-nonsense candor shows it.

Froggie's 5 and 10 has managed to capture the essence of what it means to be young in its small store on Knox, making it the perfect stop for folks of all ages. Whether it's greeting cards, a Slinky, candy or a vintage lunchbox, you'll find it crammed into the shelves at Froggie's, and somehow the employees know exactly where to track down anything your heart desires. You might fancy a magic trick for the kiddo, a retro toy for yourself or maybe a gag gift for your buddy, but you'll buy something. Just be careful. Even though the prices are fair, you'll end up draining your bank account in no time.

First things first, Voodoo Chile is not actually a voodoo shop. Though, we're sure many a late-night shopper has been fooled by the shop's name and the red glow of its lights that are clearly visible from nearby Lowest Lower Greenville Avenue sidewalks. The eclectic vintage shop is open only from 7 p.m. until midnight most nights of the week, and that unpredictability is part of the shop's fun–especially after having dinner and drinks (or, yeah, just drinks) at one of the nearby restaurants or taverns. We never know what secret treasure we'll find while buzz-browsing through the vintage threads, amazing ashtrays, primo eight-tracks and LPs, old Halloween masks, movie flats and original art. Some say Voodoo Chile's mysterious curator is actually named Jimi Hendrix, and we prefer to maintain the mystery. Clearly the guy's a fan, having named his shop after the 15-minute Electric Ladyland track, but Voodoo Chile's speakers are just as likely to be blaring Édith Piaf or '60s surf tunes as psychedelic blues-rock. Don't even bother asking how much those Piaf records are, though—they're not for sale.

For sheer variety and selection, the water bottle section at the back of Whole Earth Provision is hard to beat. Klean Kanteen, Thinksport, Lifefactory, Steelworks, SIGG, Camelbak, Nalgene BPA-free: They have them all, along with some nice water bottle accessories like Neoprene sleeves and web holsters. Every time we see another story about that entire new continent of trashed disposable water bottles forming in the ocean—The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, as Wikipedia calls it—good reusable bottles look better and better. Then we cross our fingers and hope we don't read one day about an island of reusable steel water bottles somewhere. That would be worse.

Don't kiss behind the garden gate, love is blind but the neighbors ain't. Don't know if Garden Gate owners Junior and Maria Villanueva had this childhood rhyme in mind when they named their Uptown floral shop and located it in a charming two-story Victorian house behind a white picket fence. But the warning seems apt. It's a very short fence, and the house offers lovers and other strangers a beautiful assortment of arranged and stemmed flowers, as well as knickknacks, stuffed animals, glassware and other gift items. Garden Gate does big-ticket arrangements for special events, weddings, Sunday church, the opera and charitable brouhahas. But it never seems to lose its feel for the little guy—the husband who pissed off his wife right before he left for work or the boss who wants to get his administrative assistant something special for her special day (Administrative Professionals Day: April 27, 2011, in case you missed it this year). Garden Gate is made even more hospitable by shop dog Peddles, who greets all visitors with the same wag of the tail.

The kind of person who can't stand it when a carefully chosen piece of flair goes unnoticed is precisely the kind of person you're likely to run into at Lula B's, the Lower Greenville-to-Deep Ellum consignment and vintage shop transplant. Upstairs, it's cowboy boots and vintage dresses. Downstairs, it's booth after booth of mid-century and antique furniture, housewares and...wait, what is that thing? Who knows? But the price is probably right, and once you put it on display in your living room, surely someone will happen by and christen it an ashtray/changing table/magazine rack. Whatever the case, Lula B's purchases are remarkable for their propensity for being remarked-upon, whether your taste tends toward old-school Scandinavian-style furniture pieces or another lederhosen-wearing ceramic goat for the collection.

Here's what we usually don't like about jewelers: They use jeweler lingo, and they make us feel like we've touched stuff we're not supposed to. Not so at Sergio's Jewelry. The mom-and-pop storefront nestled in Casa Linda Plaza is well-merchandised for browsing (like, actual shopping!) while you wait. And when we've talked to Sergio (just Sergio, according to employees), he was friendly, used layman's terms, showed us various ideas for a design change, consulted with us on the care of a prized heirloom (and made us swear never to sell it, unlike the last jeweler we saw who practically chased after us), and provided us with some repairs, which were done on a quick turnaround. And all these goods and services came at shockingly reasonable prices. We've never been back to the same jewelry shop twice. That is, until we found Sergio's.

Yes, we know it's the economy, stupid, and there is something downright ignorant about giving a high-dollar, high-fashion men's boutique recognition when jobless claims are up, home prices are down and unemployment hovers just under 10 percent. Sure, there's always the Men's Wearhouse or Jos. A. Banks to keep us mediocre. But with Pockets Menswear, albeit at their tony Highland Park digs, there are fine Italian threads (Ermenegildo Zegna) and personal service from owner David Smith and devoted salesman Doug Duckworth, and aren't we supposed to be promoting the small business owners of the United States to keep this country strong and good looking? So in the interest of America, we recognize Pockets, as we have in less troubled times, for its quality, its friendliness and yes, its $2,000 suits. A man's got to dream, doesn't he?

Dallas-based Compostmania is quickly becoming a national source, maybe international, for state-of-the-art composting know-how and technology. Where else could you find more than 15 types of composting bins, including a spherical composting bin that looks like something that just landed from Mars? Proprietors Robert L. Olivier and Karl Warkomski are serious and diligent in keeping up with the state of the art in compost, but their site is also welcoming and intuitive for newcomers. Their page includes the following promise, probably not available anywhere else on the Internet: "Whatever your worm bin problem—from foul odor, to excess moisture, to the dreaded 'worm crawl'—these troubleshooting tips will help." When you need guys like this, you really need them.

Oliver Peck, the man behind this Deep Ellum tattoo shop, does a lot for this city—far more than he probably gets credit for. The guy throws some of the best parties around, gladly dresses up in drag to perform in some of the city's best tribute bands and earlier this year, he helped California's MusInk Festival, which combines a rock 'n' roll festival with a tattoo convention into one awesome blowout, expand to Fair Park. But the man who kicked Kat Von D to the curb also does something else pretty rad: Every Friday the 13th, he opens up his shop for a 24-hour period and, with his team of artists, bangs out tattoo after tattoo—all with the number 13 contained somewhere within—to a never-ending line of ink junkies looking to score their fixes. And he does so cheaply, too: The tats cost just 20 bucks ($13 plus tax and tip). Wearing one of these designs is like a badge of honor for the customer. And for Peck, it's yet one more chance to break a Guinness Book of World Records mark for most tattoos applied in 24 hours—a mark he already owns, by the way.

Tired of your designer exercise-wear looking ragged and droopy after a long Sunday of fighting the crowds at Whole Foods with your Adorable Spouse and Gifted and Talented Children just so you can pick up the week's whey protein and spinach supply? Make the move from the overrun organic megastore to the underdog, Henderson Street's Newflower Market. The Colorado-based chain's (we know, we know) Dallas outpost has plentiful parking, knowledgeable staff and the affordable high-quality organic goods that help you and your middle-class guilt sleep at night. The good sushi's still there after 5 p.m., and like the Newflower-branded staples like olive oil, vinegar and canned veggies, it's available for a fraction of the cost at other high-end grocery stores. What Newflower lacks in sprawl, it makes up for with straightforward, reliable offerings for everyday market trips.

Some things you never knew you needed—that is, until you saw them at Junkadoodle. Once a month during autumn and spring, the whimsical flea market on Lovers Lane just west of Inwood Village turns into a huge block party. Independent retailers rent small spaces in the parking lot and in the front yard of the boutique and try their luck hocking weird artifacts to a slew of curious passersby. Peculiar paintings, sculptures, old furniture, handmade items and vintage bread boxes are easily found among the smorgasbord of stuff. Just be sure to have a good poker face when haggling for a better deal. After all, one man's junk is another man's treasure.

Between the kick-ass in-stores, the Music Movie Mondays series and their annual Record Store Day blowout, Good Records would probably win this award even if it only stocked records that earned an 8.0 or above from Pitchfork. But there's a vast world of music in these racks (from psychedelic, country and soul classics to the latest, greatest indie-rock hits and everything in between) and the staff—including Jacob Douglas, owner Chris Penn and beloved experimental curmudgeon Mark Church—will be glad to help you wade through it all to find your new favorite record. Just make sure to buy it when you find it, 'cause someone has to buy all that "free" in-store beer you've been drinking.

A groat is any grain that has been husked. Steel-cut oat groats have been chopped with a blade and then slightly baked. They cook into an oatmeal with more texture than regular oatmeal, which can be sort of gooey. Oat groats are sold in fancy packaging, sometimes as "Irish oatmeal," at a very fancy price, but you can get the same thing much cheaper by buying in bulk at certain stores. Central Market and Whole Foods sell bulk steel-cut oat groats, but, last time we checked, Newflower had the best price and offered both organic and regular. The best way to cook them is in a small crock pot overnight for about three hours. The oatmeal comes up with more flavor and a more pleasing texture than any of that quick-fix stuff.

Sitting next door to its sister store, Found, Lost Antiques is part antiques shop, part design studio and art gallery. With items from dealers across Texas, Lost has a phenomenal assortment of big and small finds. Check out the jewelry cases for vintage turquoise rings and old charm bracelets. Look above for ornate Art Deco chandeliers. The fine art collections include beautifully framed Lempickas, mid-century portraiture (some of it irresistibly kitschy) and vintage photographs. Old grammar school furniture from the 1950s sits next to authentic Shaker chairs. A marble bust peers down at a box of 1960s toys. Lost also has a vintage motorcycle shop with collectible BMW cycles and assorted gewgaws for them from the 1960s and '70s. It's like a museum of Americana, but all for sale at reasonably affordable prices.

Most Likely to Succeed Entrepreneurs Jully, Derek and Vynsie Law reveal the secret for the success of We Are 1976: Be predictably unpredictable. BY PATRICK MICHELS PHOTO BY MARK GRAHAM

The folks behind We Are 1976 were pretty big news when they first opened their gift shop/jewelry boutique/comic store/art studio in a mixed-use space at the end of the new development at 1902 N. Henderson Ave. With cool Asian imports and household trinkets from local designers, and an easy-going, inviting feel to their shop, Vynsie, Jully and Derek Law made a good case for being voted Dallas Most Likely to Succeed.

One year later, the trios going as strong as ever, and if theyve stumbled onto any one formula for success along the way, its this: Dont rely on some old formula to run your shop. What theyve builta local landmark, a store thats always stocked with fresh surprises, a community of art lovers geeking out on elegant designisnt the kind of place that comes with an instruction book.

Vynsie says theyd been talking about opening a shop just like this for a while. It was just something that we talked about casually for a really long time. In the fall of 2008, we just were like, Lets do it, Vynsie says. Each was in between jobsor at least didnt have a job theyd mind walking away from. Vynsie and Dereks dad, an adventurous businessman who made the most of his entrepreneurial urges after immigrating from Hong Kong, helped give them the kick they needed. Hes done a lot of different careers, and hes like, You guys just need to take a chance, Vynsie recalls.

Shelves and tables are constantly migrating across the store and back, and nothing stays in stock for long. Its hard work to maintain the DIY flair and unpredictability the shops become known forand that invites repeat visits from their devoted regularsbut Vynsie says it suits them. Because the inventorys always changing, were kind of schizophrenic too, she says. We want to make sure every time you come in its a different experience, because it is a small shop. We want people just to have fun in here, because we want to have fun while were working.

Part of that balancing act between work and play has meant each of the co-owners has had to figure out which part of the business they do best. It was an ugly process for a while, Vynsie says, but eventually she settled her role buying the jewelry and handmade goods, and doing the in-house design work for their website and events. Her brother Derek takes care of finding new books and imports, and his ex-wife Jully buys their collectible vinyl and handles the paperwork it takes to run the business. Everybody has their own little role. Its not like a handbook, Vynsie says. We just fell into it.

One of the surprising things is how much Dallas and the neighborhood has been so supportive, Vynsie says. We get a lot of people who come in and theyre like, Weve been wanting a store like this. The shops become a cultural hub for people who love all things hip, retro, whimsical and handmade. If youre into KidRobot, giant knitting, re-purposed record players or starting your own T-shirt brand, youll be right at home in We Are 1976.

When we started, we wanted to focus a lot on Dallas designers and artists, Vynsie says. Now they try to make sure around 30 percent of their stock comes from local artists and designers. We didnt know how much we could actually do. Thats been a good surprise, she says.

With a bright, airy space and a fridge stocked with a few favorite Japanese drinks (Pocari Sweat tastes even better than it sounds), its the kind of place you want to hang around and exploreand the shops second life as a gathering place, with art gallery nights and workshops in things like paper marbling and letterpress, has become more and more vital to its identity.

The shops already hosted seven open houses this year, drawing crowds that line up outside the door to get in. It sounds kind of cheesy, but when we opened it we wanted it to feel like a community, Jully says. It was hard to find talent at first but then once we opened our doors, a lot of people came to us.

Thats the real measure of success for We Are 1976drawing like-minded locals together and fostering a network of shops like theirs, from the Lower Greenville boutique Bows and Arrows to Curiosities in Lakewood.

I get so mad when people say that Dallas doesnt have a lot of creative outlets or cool places to go, Vynsie says, because if you just go down to Bishop Arts or around hereif you look hard enough, its there.