Shopping at Sam Moon Trading Co. on a Saturday afternoon is kinda like walking down Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras--minus the naked breasts and 32-ounce hurricanes, of course. But this place is just that crowded. It's a shopping mob. And like Mardi Gras, Sam Moon is almost too much to take in at once. From the moment you walk through the door, you're shoulder to shoulder with an army of women with glassed-over eyes and arms filled with goodies. There's also the occasional husband hidden away in one of the store's corners, holding a basket and looking just a little bewildered. But if you like cheap, funky jewelry (which we do) and gaudy sequined purses (which we do), then fighting these crowds is worth it. Sam Moon's selection of adornments for the ears, neck, wrists and toes is beyond compare. Just remember: Move fast and don't be afraid to use your elbows.

After you sign your apartment lease, do not pass go and collect $200. Instead, point your large automobile toward Deep Ellum and cruise over to Home Concepts, the one-stop shopping location for futons, CD racks, couches, lights, computer desks and whatnot. The eclectic and large selection of merchandise is very affordable and not at all stodgy. Also good for decorating the college dorm room or (shudder) the condo.

Sure, you've got your young bucks, trying to get to the top of the courthouse food chain, winning trials and making names for themselves on the backs of baby prosecutors who are still cutting their teeth on DWI cases. But there is something reassuring about choosing George Milner to represent you. No one can evaluate a case as well as Milner; no one can analyze the collective passions and thought processes of a jury as well as Milner. What he lacks in flash and youth, he makes up for in finesse and wisdom. If you are in big trouble and you have big money, he is still the man in town to see.

This eclectic Deep Ellum shop has nothing you need but just about anything you might want. From postcards and handbags to picture frames and decorated hairbrushes, Mark & Larry's has it all--which makes it an excellent place to find a gift for that person who has everything. They also offer the best selection of greeting cards in town. No matter the occasion, this place has a card for it. Some are sweet and sentimental, but some are crass and downright cruel. And those are the ones we like. Just be sure to keep an eye on the parking meter. It's easy to while away an entire afternoon thumbing through every card in the rack. Or is that just us?

No, not those kinds of toys. Yes, we're the paper that once published a giant full-color shot of a dildo on its cover, but sometimes even we think about things other than sex. Television mostly. (Shallow? Us?) When our lusty hearts turn toward things digital, shiny and bright, Sony Style is where we scurry. From sleek VAIO desktop and laptop computers to boom boxes, video games and MP3 players, this sleek Galleria shop has all the goods to inflame our digital desires. Then there are the televisions, super-thin HD plasma models roughly the size of a drive-in movie screen, that cost much more than our first car. Look, we're not saying we like these TVs better than sex. On the other hand, we watch about four hours of tube a day, so we're not saying we don't.

This is the real thing. An original. In business for more than 100 years, Rudolph's looks like a meat market should--big and echoing--and has enough fine aged beef and sausage on hand to gag a tiger. In the long L-shaped counter are strip steaks and made-on-the-premises sausages that are wholesaled to barbecue joints across the state. The filet mignons--cut as thick as you want at $18 a pound--bring your backyard grilling up to four-star standards. The hot dogs and spicy sausages make you swear you'll start working on that diet next week.

Nothing like coming home with a big ol' box of wine. That's the equivalent of four bottles, which means plenty of sophistication for an evening. While most people place boxed wine on the same level as, say, cheap vinegar or water from the dog's dish, some vintners recently began filling the square containers with drinkable product. In other words, it's not just for Franzia anymore. In fact, Central Market carries boxed varietals from Napa Valley, Australia and even France. What makes the snobbish grocery the best place to buy boxed wine, however, is the number of serious shoppers roaming the aisles with wine guides open, intent on finding a bottle mentioned by Robert Parker or prized by Wine Spectator. The mere act of maneuvering through this crowd as they study each label, walking boldly up to a shelf and grabbing a reasonably priced (read: cheap) box of wine as they gape in horror, is sheer fun.

It's one of those dying arts that's now making a strong comeback. Women are getting back into the kind of sewing that Grandma did, says owner Judy Mack. Not only is she an authorized Pfaff dealer, but she offers a variety of fabrics, supplies, notions, books, patterns and--perhaps most important--instruction classes. Instructors will teach you everything from beginning quilting to installing zippers without tears, tatting and digitizing. There are even classes for the kids and teen-agers. Store hours are 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday.

Not only does Nice-born co-owner Yasmine Bohsali serve up the best baguettes and chocolate croissants this side of the Mediterranean, but his shop has become a social gathering spot for French transplants and Americans who speak the language. "Many of our French customers," Bohsali says, "tell us our place reminds them of home because we're authentic." L'Alliance Française, the local chapter of French expatriates, had them cater the group's recent Bastille Day celebration. Store hours are 7 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.

Few smells are as rich and memorable as those of a dog. The smear of guano on his neck, the fetid ear wax built up over summer, the hot stink of pads that tore through the dog park and hit every land mine before diving into an algal creek, bright as a sinus infection. Love your dog but hate the way he smells? Know you'll be filing for divorce if you're caught sneaking him into the jetted tub? Take your pal to Dunking Doggies, a do-it-yourself dog wash. Owner Tommy Sheridan will hook you up to an all-in-one stall that lets you shampoo, condition and blow dry your dog. The shop has assorted shampoos to choose from. Aprons, scrubbers, combs and brushes are provided--not to mention ear wash. Other services such as grooming and nail trimming are provided for an additional charge. And baby can have a biscuit if he behaves. Once inside the sally port, Tommy's dog Zip--a hefty English bulldog--keeps an eye on things. Average cost of a bath is $15. Not picking hair out of the Therma-Jet portals: priceless.