Western Warehouse has everything you'd expect: boots, hats, belts and belt buckles, jeans, boots, those collarless shirts Garth Brooks favored for a while and the loud, starched-stiff shirts loved by Brooks and Dunn. But it also has tiny Wranglers for mini-cowboys and cowgirls, tank tops and slogan tees for teen rodeo queens, Western-style tuxedo jackets and those polyester pants the indie-rock boys wear with their Converses. Not to mention the racks and racks of jeans and one of the largest selections of Levis, with stacks of styles and colors in dozens of sizes. The store--a warehouse in stature not just name--suits more styles than Billy Bob's casual. Even we found a shirt (with piping and pearl snaps, no less), which was about as likely as LeAnn Rimes recording an album to outsell Blue.

OK, so it's more than "health food," but then that just shouldn't count against it. Our weekend ritual now consists of: Wake up at 8:30 (a.m., that is), throw on some shorts (our own, someone else's, whatever), get into the car and get to Central Market before the doors part at 9, thus allowing in the millions (OK, dozens) who line up to take control of the 50,000-square-foot store before it's overrun with the heathens. We'll admit it: We're foodies, though we so loathe the term (don't even know what it means, actually); we're addicts, freaks, junkies for what the H-E-B folks are pushing. We'll spend an hour that turns into two, an afternoon that turns into a weekend in this place, and still we'll never uncover all it has to offer; we return for what we need, never stopping to ponder there are millions of items we don't need but merely crave (say, the tub of roasted garlic cloves for sale in the to-go area; man, our breath stinks this weekend). Some suggestions: the fresh Southwestern tortillas just off the grill, the black-pepper-marinated olives, the smoked cheddar cheeses, the French hams in the deli area, the Russian rye breads, the prosciutto-and-pepper baguette, the Australian beer, the star fruit, the dried peppers that sell for $50 a pound (all you need is but a few cents' worth), the champagne grapes, the live oysters and clams, the breakfast sausage, the...mmmmmmm, sausage. For once, an ad campaign lives up to its claims: Tom Thumb and Whole Foods are grocery stores; this is heaven, paradise, nirvana. And did we mention the cooking classes, the guest chefs (Naked and otherwise), the tours, the private meeting rooms, the On the Run fun that makes Eatzi's look like, well, Marty's? No? We meant to, but our mouths were stuffed with blue crab claws and tapenade; sorry 'bout that.

The price of fashion takes its toll in many ways other than the slimming of that designer pocketbook of yours. "Chic" eternally revolves and recycles in a vicious, cannibalistic circle, and the constant struggle to remain in The Now seems all but insurmountable when everything ends up being (or actually strives to be) so five-minutes-ago. Short of taking a not-so-scenic thrift-store tour of North Texas--one that's decidedly more famine than feast--the options for the frugal fashionista have been limited, but the chain known as Buffalo Exchange succeeds in both remaking and remodeling even the most discriminating wardrobes. Set up in much the same way as a used record or book shop, BE specializes in the buy/sell/trade of threads that have worn out their welcome, without the hassle of sifting through shop-class ashtrays and incomplete Sesame Street puzzles. Be it the latest trends in street wear, a reinforcement of the tried and true or the funkiest of vintage statements, the clean Greenville Avenue outlet has a consistently organized and shifting stock, and it's quickly become an essential weekend stop.

If you can't afford that summer getaway you've been dreaming about and are weary of grilling chicken and burgers, plan something different after a visit to a grocery that takes you to another world. You can shop for everything from pork ears to chicken feet, pickled cabbage to duck eggs. The seafood selection is remarkable (tilapia, milkfish, China grouper and squid). Might want to take home some Wei-Chaun dumplings for the right appetizer and plan to spend time looking over the wide variety of exotic spices (ever try dried lily flower?) and teas. Talk about fun shopping. They're open daily from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m.

To call David Broussard an artist in no way overstates the obvious. Just look around his shop high atop Central Expressway, adjoining the Premier Club. He is a sculptor who prefers working in steel, and his artwork--much of it encompassing religious themes--adorns the shop walls. He plays a spirited bass guitar and writes his own songs, the latest of which can be heard on the headsets he will gladly apply before or after shampooing. His haircuts are as skilled as his art: precise, well-designed and well-executed. Although he works on men, women flock to his scissors, and he will trim the children of his customers for the asking. They sense they are safe in his hands, although they are not quite sure what large metallic crosses and stars of David are doing in a hair salon.

If you want to buy garden tools that will last, Smith & Hawken has what you need. Of course, you'll need to bring a lot of money, but the investment will provide perennial returns. The Uptown store carries everything a gardener needs, from hand rakes and soil scoops to bulb planters and precision weeders. Forget what you planted last spring? No problem. Smith & Hawken also sells zinc plant markers, among other hard-to-find accessories. When you're done toiling in the fields, nothing relaxes quite like the store's wide selection of fine teak chairs and chaises.

During a serious costume crisis, we visited the Dallas Costume Shoppe. We got great help and quite a bit of kitty lovin'. Skutr, a beautiful mix who looks part siamese and part short-haired Himalayan, greeted us at the door with a meow and a stretch. He accompanied us on our wig hunt, cutting figure eights through our legs and pawing for a scratch of the ears. The human assistance was quick and thorough, solving our costume woes, but it was Skutr who made us wish we had 10 more characters to dress, just so we could spend the day with the soft little affection-giver. Skutr is a master of promotions, making us determined to call again on the feline-friendly costume shop.

With the holidays quickly approaching (by which we mean our birthday), you might wanna stop by the Ridge--the self-proclaimed "home décor and craft marketplace," which just sends a tingle up the spines of men everywhere--to load up on immortal wreaths and other flowers made of silk and synthetic material. From pottery to potpourri, from party goods to pictures and posters (for frames and, yes, you sad souls without family photos to fill them), from candles to curtains, this chain store has generous amounts of decently priced crap to make any dorm room or any mansion feel like Martha Stewart went hog-wild while blindfolded. And we mean that as a compliment: When we're not tricking up our house with the latest Todd Oldham trinket from Target, we're at Garden Ridge, wondering how we spent $124 on candles that smell like roses and feet.

Put those hands up for the team of experts that can mend them like no one else. Doctors David Zehr, Arnold DiBella and Paul Rosco Ellis III compose said team, and it seems there's nothing they can't hand-le (sorry about that, but we just had to). These talented doctors/surgeons tackle trauma, sports injuries, pinched nerves, wrist injuries, vascular and nerve injuries, amputations, tumors and arthritis. And we thought we did a lot in a day. The special thing about these guys (Dr. DiBella is truly outstanding in this area) is that they explain things to patients until they understand. There's no quick diagnosis and exit, leaving the nurse to take over. The doctors take the time to show models, diagrams and demonstrations of injuries and are completely up front about what it will take to fix the problem. With parts as important to daily life as hands, that frankness and understanding are invaluable.

Usually, in Best of Dallas, we tell you where to find the good deals. But sometimes we just gotta tell you, look, these folks are the best, but it's gonna cost you. Pay it. It's worth it. That's the case with Silks Abloom. They're not the cheapest in town--far from it. But if you want a distinctive, stunning faux flower arrangement or greenery for your house, it's hard to do better than these folks. So don't blame us when you get the credit card bill, but do give us credit when your purchase earns you ooohs and aaahs.