If you thought Whole Foods had a unique selection of soap, you haven't seen anything. Established in 1752, Caswell-Massey is, as it claims, "America's oldest chemists and perfumers," and now Dallas residents can shop at one of its newest locations. Need soap? They've got a skin-tingling array of domestic and imported soaps made of everything from oatmeal to lavender and beyond. The store also sells a wide array of other pampering products, including body oils, shampoos and crèmes. Unlike many toiletry stores, which tend to focus on her needs, Caswell-Massey carries a wide selection of men's products, including sandalwood and almond-scented shaving creams. They go perfectly with the house's very own silver-tipped badger shave brush. Remember those?

At some point, almost all of the big mall computer stores decided they couldn't afford to hire salespeople who actually know anything. Micro Center is the exception: Prices are competitive, but Micro Center also puts smart salespeople on the floor. Their own line of computers is usually a good buy, and the shelves almost always offer a fuller line of choices, from peripherals to software, than what you will find anywhere else. Another miracle: When the salespeople don't know the difference, they say, "I don't know the difference."

One weekend last spring, we were riding our bicycle around White Rock Lake with our faithful wife and our sometimes faithful toddler son when we chanced to see a well-made sign standing in the grass, along the lake's shore. The sign read, "Free Advice." Near it sat two men in comfortable lawn chairs. Between them, on the ground, was spread a blanket. We stopped, thinking it was some sort of performance art. Turns out, Roderick MacElwain and Neal Caldwell have been doing this most Sunday mornings, weather permitting, since 1996. And it is not performance art. MacElwain and Caldwell are gainfully employed, somewhat eccentric, very thoughtful fellows who enjoy giving advice on subjects from plumbing to marriage to large-animal veterinary medicine (all fields, by the way, in which they do have experience). We and our wife that weekend wound up posing a question that can be summarized as, "What should we do with our lives?" We were not disappointed with the advice we received.

Let's say you've found a cherry 1946 Martin 6 horsepower boat motor in your grandfather's garage, but the rope-pull starter mechanism is broken. You know what most boat shops around Dallas are going to tell you? Tie a rope to it and use it for an anchor. But Barber Boats on Harry Hines is old-style, meaning they actually know how to fix stuff. Boat motors shouldn't be like computers: The answer shouldn't always be to throw it away and get a new one. At Barber it's not like that.

Perusing the racks, you may find the occasional space where a video once had a home but is now long gone. In its place stands a card berating the thief, with identification if possible. On their Web site, along with new arrivals and special event info, owner Ben Moore features a shoplifter of the week. Needless to say, in person or on the Net, the descriptions are never flattering and always entertaining. We love the ones complete with photos. While you're there, check out a cult flick or Mark Ryden's latest book.

It may be time to retire this category for one simple reason: No one comes close to matching GameStop's selection of new and used video games and hardware. That's why this Grapevine-based company, with more than 1,300 stores nationally, is a perennial winner in Best of Dallas. The clerks know their merchandise; the prices, while not greatly discounted, are reasonable; and we doubt that it's possible to drive more than a few miles in Dallas without being near one of the chain's locations. But why do we love it so? Here's why: We wandered in looking for a copy of the coveted Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic on the day it was released. "Have you preordered a copy?" the clerk asked. "No," we said, lip trembling, tears welling in our childlike, 41-year-old eyes. No problem. He felt our pain and reached under the counter to find us a reserve copy. The guys at GameStop? They know your joneses, fellow gamers, and they sympathize.

We aren't picky about where we get our hay or our burlap sacks. We'll buy our pot-bellied pig chow from any Tom, Dick or Harry who stocks the stuff. But fox urine is an entirely different matter. We won't buy it from just anyone--mainly because just anyone doesn't carry it. Fox urine is one of those commodities that can only be found on the shelves of stores run by women with names like Dodie, which happens to be the name of the woman who runs the Mesquite Feed & General Store. Dodie is not a city girl. If you ask her, she will be pleased as pie to explain why you might need fox urine. Bless your heart.

Once again, the key ingredient to a good bookstore is its selection. And the selection of used books (not to mention software and music) at Half Price Books is far and wide. In fact, its store on East Northwest Highway in Dallas is so big, this book lover's companion recently made the mistake of taking a trip into the store's "paranormal" section and wound up vanishing into thin air. It took a good hour for her to reappear with body intact, book in hand and, after checkout, bank account still padded.

Comic-book auctions have become quite a lucrative market in recent years, and the king of this particular hill is Dallas' Heritage Comics Auctions. For example: Last year, when Nicolas Cage decided to sell off his entire comic-book collection--which contained such prize books as Action Comics No. 1 (the first appearance of Superman) and All-Star Comics No. 3 (the debut of the Justice Society of America, the first superhero team)--he went with Heritage. Spider-Man/X-Men/Fantastic Four co-creator Stan Lee also tapped the auction house when he wanted to sell off a sizable chunk of his (obviously) extensive assortment of books. Though Heritage still deals primarily in rare coins, the comic trade made the company more than $10 million since it began dealing in funny books in 2001--and that was before they helped Cage sell his collection. If you've got a big wallet rubbing up against a set of Incredible Hulk Underoos, look no further. Oh, and the second-best place? Mark Cuban's house.

Jim DeNoyer isn't the original live-action Fan Man. Think of him as playing Dean Cain to the George Reeves who started the business back in the late '70s. DeNoyer didn't don the tights and cape until 1994, when he bought the business. Now The Fan Man carries more than 400 antique, restored and reproduction fans in his modest Lakewood shop. A reproduced 1912 Gyro fan goes for $2,500. A restored 1930s-era metal-blade desk fan might run $300. And The Fan Man is one of the few people in the entire country to whom you want to bring your old-fashioned fan for restoration. He is truly a man of steel.