Goods & Services

Sometimes tracking down the right vibrating butt plug can be a wild goose chase. You search hither and yon only to be disappointed — again. That’s why the connoisseur of battery-operated sex toys knows that biggest is always best — and in this case, that describes Megasex Adult Emporium. The video/toy store looks as if it’s taken over an abandoned airplane hangar and filled it with every conceivable pleasuring device for every conceivable orifice. You can go from easily concealed, surreptitious little smuggleables like the Pocket Rocket (perfect for those long airplane flights) all the way up to and including the 10-inch-wide, 24-inch-long Man o’ War (which hurts just to look at). Megasex is better than a well-stocked candy counter when it comes to condoms, displaying a vast array of colors, flavors, and textures. Then there are the silly novelties: gummy sweets shaped like boobs and butts, loads of lickable lubes, jelly dongs, G spot ticklers, cock rings, and of course enough dildos to distract Annabel Chong. If you just can’t seem to reach that hard-to-reach area, give Megasex a try.

Liberties, with its eclectic book selections and vast array of caffeine concoctions, presents a haven for book-lovers who disdain mammoth national chains. But unlike fledgling independent places, Liberties plays with the big dogs. Both stores boast a healthy variety of genres, and if they don’t carry the book you want, they’ll gladly order it. Walking the aisles at Liberties is like descending into a delightfully bookish black hole: Hours feel like minutes, and it’s easy to lose a whole afternoon to browsing. The employees, most of whom seem to be bibliophiles, tend to be both helpful and knowledgeable; the application for employment even asks prospective workers to name the authors of several books. Aside from meeting your individual literary needs, Liberties infuses some culture into South Florida. A few times each month, the bookstores host meet-the-author events, readings, and book signings.

Upon entering Jezebel, look up and note the hats. They are only the beginning. Need an outfit for that ABBA retrospective? How about a ’20s Dupont car coat? Maybe a little something authentic for Mardi Gras? No problem. It’s all here — wigs, gloves, dresses, hats, shoes, suits, ties, jewelry, Hawaiian shirts, even nighties — for as little as $5 or as much as $2500. So come prepared with time, an open mind, and a reasonable amount of cash. Something charming and whimsical is bound to capture your imagination.

You could take your hard-earned cash to Sawgrass Mills or any other mall for that matter and spend it outfitting the tykes. You could also wad it up and throw it in the crapper. As far as we’re concerned, it’s about the same thing. The fact is that kids outgrow clothes so fast that buying brand-new, name-brand stuff for them is a sure way to spend yourself into the poor house. And the clothes they don’t outgrow, they’ll refuse to wear because the styles have changed. We recommend you bypass the whole retail mess and shop Think Thrift, Broward County’s premier secondhand store. It has racks of kids’ clothes organized by article and sex, and most of it looks barely used. You’ll find shorts, shirts, pants, and even shoes for less than five bucks. You can pick up a good winter jacket for $10 or so, about right given the few times you’ll need it around here; and you can buy baby sleeping gear for less than a buck.

Grocery stores around South Florida are pretty boring. You have your Winn-Dixie, your Publix, the occasional Albertson’s, and a handful of independents. And that’s about it. Seems as if there should be more competition in a region with five million hungry souls. Thank God for Doris’s places. These stores, which are located in Hollywood, Sunrise, Plantation, Coral Springs, and Boca Raton, pack a lot of great food into little spaces. Each deli is a delight to behold; it features trays of lasagna, sausages, subs, calzones, and other Mediterranean dishes. A seafood counter offers fresh fish daily (we can personally recommend the tuna steaks), and a bakery turns out huge, soft loaves of bread for less than a buck each, not to mention a cornucopia of desserts. If you’re looking for hot dogs, potato chips, and beer, hit the mainstream stores. If it’s a touch of ethnicity and epicurean style you seek, visit Doris.

Like Scotch whisky, good cigars need about seven years aging to get really fine. The strong and rich Padron Anniversary Series, a product of Nicaragua, gives you that quality. The 1994 Padron commemorates the company’s 30th anniversary for $14.99. Who pays $15 for a damn cigar? Not the guys who pick up the Fuente Opus-X, a long and very strong smoke wrapped in cedar and laden with hints of cocoa and spice. It runs for $35 a pop. Then there’s the John Holmes of cigars, the huge Davidoff (eat your heart out, Monica), which comes in a wood case for $35. You can get them all at Cigarros Del Mundo in Dania Beach. If you’re just a regular putz, they have something for you, too: their Honduras-grown house blend. You can sample this in a mild, hand-rolled robusto for $2.49. (The torpedo’ll run you $3.50.) If you visit the store, you’ll also get to see one of the finest collections of politically incorrect wooden Indians in South Florida. On top of that, it has great lighters (including those torch gizmos that ignite in a hurricane), cigar cutters, and flasks. Yes, flasks. And that brings us back to Scotch…

If you’ve ever wondered what happens to the ones that didn’t get away (and that weren’t eaten), check out the big, blue glass building on I-95 with the dancing swordfish in front. It’s Gray Taxidermy, probably the world’s largest marine taxidermist. Like Apple computer, Gray’s was started in a garage 35 years ago. Today founder William Gray has retired to Stuart and the business is run by his former apprentice and partner of 22 years, Ian Hall. Stuffing fish isn’t what it used to be, Hall says. Only 10 to 15 percent of the 1200 specimens produced monthly are “skin mounts,” the actual fish that someone caught, dried or froze, and delivered to Gray’s. The rest are made from Fiberglas; some anglers catch a big one, snap a photo, and instruct Gray’s to make a double. Others do the unthinkable; they simply call, request a 24-foot hammerhead shark or a four-foot barracuda, and then wait three months until it shows up on their doorstep. Hotels, restaurants, and movie companies (and maybe even a few, um, exaggerators) do it. The original jaws from Jaws hang on Gray’s wall. Even so, the big charge for these guys, who spend most of their time molding, sanding, and painting, is when a parent brings in a kid clutching his first catch and proudly says, “Stuff it, please.”

When we say Guido’s is a family business, we’re not talking about the kind of family of which pop culture has conditioned you to think. We’re talking family business as in a 30-year-old operation run by the same family, with “Father Guido” and his gregarious sons greeting customers, dishing up homemade items behind the deli counter, and cutting fresh meats to order. A small selection of produce and dairy products can save you an extra stop at the grocery store, and such specialty items as grape leaves and roasted peppers are sold at less then gourmet-store prices. Owner Ron Guido will give you the usual line about using “only the highest-quality ingredients,” but he’s more convincing when he insists, “It’s the caring that makes the difference. You can have a great product, but if you don’t care about the way it’s prepared and presented, you’ll go nowhere.” Twelve successful years in the same out-of-the-way little strip plaza in Pompano Beach confirms his claim. Guido also says he and his own family eat the same products they sell to the public, and it’s a point of pride for him that “90 to 95 percent of our trade over here, we’re on a first-name basis with” — in other words, when you’re at Guido’s, you’re family, too.

Nobody really wants to buy pool supplies. It’s one of those things you have to do, like mowing the lawn or having your wisdom teeth pulled. So when you find a pool store that will do all that fancy-pants chemical analysis and sell you only what you need, you go back. That’s why we like Pools ‘N More. It’s not the biggest joint; in fact it looks like a two-car garage. But it has all the basics. You won’t find eight types of floating chairs or six varieties of volleyball nets, but you will locate all the chemicals, pump parts, and filter hardware you need. And the salespeople don’t snow their customers, even dumb ones like us. We came in about six months ago knowing zilch about pools and left with some good advice and a gallon of chlorine. Not a huge sale. They certainly could have convinced us we needed a lot more. But we’ve been back many times.

Ever walk into a pet peddler, wander into the back room, and feel you’ve entered the cantina scene from the original Star Wars movie? That’s what you’ll get at this joint — enough bizarre fauna to transform a Kitty Litter run into a scintillating journey. Take the red tegu, a two-foot-long rusty-red lizardish creature; its limbs are in constant swimming motion (alas, he’s kept in sand), and his whipping tongue is as busy as a politico’s jaw on the campaign trail. At nearly $300 you’d have to be a tegu fanatic to take him home, but he’s an alluring inmate to visit. Not far from Mr. Tegu is an albino Pac-Man, a froggish soul best compared to a raw omelet with eyes. The Chinese water dragons are fluorescent green and proudly show off their footlong tails. More conventional animal companions — kitties, puppies, and cockatiels — are situated near the store’s entrance and, craftily, in the front picture window. Owners Robert and Patricia Kesselman keep enough pet food, cages, aquariums, and supplies on hand for whatever, or whomever, you adopt.

If your pet could speak, it would probably say that going to the vet is for the birds. And it would be right in a way. Dr. Karen Zielezienski (that’s Dr. Z to her patients) has been practicing avian medicine and surgery for more than 12 years, and she’s one of a handful of AAV (Association of Avian Veterinarians) members in South Florida. Dr. Z is always willing to share her expertise through Notes from Academy, the animal hospital’s monthly newsletter. In addition to bird-care information, the good doctor provides updates on the latest medical innovations in use at the hospital and health care tips for dogs and cats. Dr. Z is ably assisted by Dr. David Stewart, who cares for critters in a career that has spanned more than 30 years. Academy is equipped with state-of-the-art laboratory facilities, surgery suites, ultrasound capabilities, laser surgery, and air-conditioned boarding. And the staff will clean up your mangy mutt or grimy kitty. Groomer Michael Argilan can coif your cocker or fit your longhaired cat with a lion cut for the summer. Whether they’re ill or just in need of a checkup, pets get the best care from the entire staff at Academy, paws down.

You have to admire the salesmen at R.S. Lords. Surrounded by thousands of suits and sport jackets, they gracefully put up with a sweltering climate that makes wearing a suit and tie tantamount to death by smothering. That’s not to mention casual Fridays and beachfolks’ aversion to anything that ain’t shorts cum flip-flops. But persevere they do, with all the dignity of a double-breasted jacket. Weather and fashion fads notwithstanding, all men sooner or later must don a suit for a wedding, funeral, bar mitzvah, job interview, or a mother’s satisfaction. When your day comes, you can’t go wrong with this one-of-a-kind store that imports a large selection of Italian suits and offers on-site tailoring and alterations. Whether nature made you tall, short, or portly, Lords carries your size at a reasonable price — how about an Italian suit at $199? If that’s not enough, salesmen Art, Artie, and Kenny take great pride in guessing a customer’s size before whipping out a tape measure.

All right, Pharo’s isn’t, technically speaking, a barber shop. Barber shops are generally cheap and devoutly heterosexual in nature. Men are men, and when one walks into a barber shop, even his hair gets nervous. Or at least it should be nervous. We’ve found that barber shops are a dicey proposition at best. It’s probably not so much that the quality has declined as that expectations in this oh-so-vain world have risen as high as Don King’s comb. That’s why we present you with Pharo’s. The services are not cheap (nor are they exorbitant, at $17 for a cut and wash), but they’re damn good. And at Pharo’s you don’t hear a bunch of tedious talk about sports, hunting, or current events. Walter, who trims our hair, instead might spin you the tale of his life in Cape Coral and how he inspired a macho sheriff’s deputy to become a manicurist. Now that’s entertainment.

The rich are not like you and me. They have better junk. And the Church Mouse makes this difference extremely clear. Don’t be put off by the silver-haired matrons. These ladies know good stuff at great prices when they see it. The Church Mouse is a “resale shop, dear, not consignment” owned by the Episcopal Church of Bethesda-by-the-Sea. Designer clothes for adults and children, shoes, linens, crystal, glassware, jewelry, kitchenware, furniture, draperies, antiques, and art are just some of the things available at this tidy, airy shop two blocks north of Worth Avenue. A three-piece Giorgio Armani suit might be had for $115, a fine men’s jacket for $50, or a designer love seat for $250. On a really good day, an entire room might be for sale — tables, love seat, couch, lamps, art, and curtains — all custom designed and virtually new. Don’t ask why the Palm Beach socialite donated it, just buy it. You’ll be doing a good deed: The proceeds from the shop, about $300,000 annually, are plowed back into the community through grants to nonprofit agencies, as they have been for 30 years. Still, the best thing about shopping here is strutting down Worth Avenue afterward and knowing how much you’ve saved.

Owner Dale Madison wanted a catchy name when he opened his gift-basket specialty store in Wilton Manors — “something with a little innuendo that wouldn’t be offensive,” he says. Hence Oh! What a Basket, which alludes to gay slang for a man’s, um, package. It was perfect for gay-intensive Wilton Drive. Four years later Madison’s operation is in its third location, having outgrown 880- and 1300-square-foot sites. The current 3000-square-foot store now features some furniture and decorative accessories, but the emphasis is still on floral arrangements and gift baskets, which can include chocolates, cheeses, teas, coffees, cookies, and even wines. A more provocative theme basket such as “For Lovers Only” features edible his-or-her undies, body glitter, massage oil, handcuffs, and naughty fortune cookies. Madison says about a third of his orders are delivered directly to his customers by two courier services that cover both Broward and Palm Beach counties. You can order by phone, over the Internet, or in person. And while you’re there, you can dish the dirt on what’s happening in the local gay community with Madison, who’s also a columnist for the bar magazine HOTspots!

Busy Sunrise Boulevard might seem an unlikely place to find Serenity, but that’s part of the charm of this cozy day spa. Open in the evenings, the spa makes it easy to find time for a little peace. It even issues an order for bliss: “No cell phones,” declares a sign at the door. The walls are the color of daffodils; the scent of Aveda oils wafts through the air. Sink into a comfy chair tucked into a cubby space while the affable, black-clad staff pampers your feet. Try not to think about your to-do list, because too soon your perfected feet will be back in action. This moment will be a memory. In fact maybe Serenity should put up another sign: “Relax. No Multitasking.”

Oh no! Spilled overpriced coffee on myself. Look at the pretty dresses and separates — I’ll put together a new ensemble, complete with cute straw bag and iridescent bracelets. That ostentatious old man over there also mussed up his clothes; he’ll probably grab some snazzy designer golf threads to go with the balls he’s fondling. My whiny niece wants my new jewelry; instead I’ll buy her Harry Potter and Dr. Seuss books. The latest Clancy, Cornwell, and Grisham — great gifts for Mom and Dad — are also available, though nothing from my lit class reading list. I guess I’ll grab one of these magazines instead. Now, should I get my usual chips and chocolates or indulge in faux tropical (put coconut on anything, and they’ll call it tropical) treats? Carrying all this merchandise makes my arms ache — but here’s a display full of tiny medicines and, to boot, replacement toiletries for all the stuff I left on the airplane. The Atlanta-based Paradies Shops did a good thing by opening this airport über-boutique in December after closing a few smaller stores. I can’t help but agree with a traveler pushing a baby stroller, who spots the individually wrapped diapers and exclaims à la Elwood Blues: “This place has everything!”

Uncle Sam’s store in Lauderhill is not merely a record store. Oh, sure it has CDs. Lots of them. But this place specializes in the stuff you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else: a vast line of punk, industrial, and dance-oriented music, as well as a selection of CDs by local bands, all in a store that is bigger and better than the original location in Pompano Beach. And even if store manager Richard Kammeraad doesn’t have the title you want in stock, he can order just about any album in distribution: “If it’s obtainable, I can get it.” While you’re there shopping for music, maybe there’s something else you need to add to the shopping cart. Uncle Sam’s boasts any number of items that you can’t pick up at the megachains like Best Buy or CD Warehouse, including a wide selection of European posters, those massive three-foot- by-five-foot jobs that, in proper numbers, can easily substitute for wallpaper. And there’s a nice little set of tobacco accessories that the stores of the other Sam, the late Mr. Walton, will stock only when hell freezes over. Add to that a wide variety of lamps, club toys (glow-sticks and glow-rings, for example), and incense, as well as heaps of other goods, and it’s a one-stop shop for all your rock ‘n’ roll needs.

Taking your unwanted CDs to a store to pawn them off can be a discouraging procedure. Some humorless retailers subject your platters to severe scrutiny, holding them up to the light to look for scuff marks, soliciting a second opinion from the stock boy, or even using an electron microscope to scan for irregularities. The harder they look, the less likely you are to garner good money for your rejects. At the busy stores, you and your castoffs may sit for an hour before someone gets around to perusing them — only to offer a measly $2 or $3 per disc. It’s not so at CD Trader. The clerks will quickly look over your castaways, take what they want, and fork over a princely sum (as much as $5 apiece) for the keepers. Not only that, but the stock at CD Trader is comprehensive for a modest-size store. Trade your hand-me-downs for some goodies from the large reggae and dance-music bins, or just take the cash and run. Either way you’ll leave richer than you arrived.

While South Florida isn’t exactly awash in interesting microbrews or exotic quaffables from around the world (thank our state’s boneheaded beverage lobby for that), we’re strategically positioned to enjoy a plethora of light beers from the Caribbean and the Americas. In our summertime, subtropical torpor, a pale lager hits the spot much better than a malty, yeasty ale. At Super Saver, which is located in a 1950s-era shoppette just west of I-95, you’ll find Polar from Venezuela; Kalik from the Bahamas; Presidente from the Dominican Republic; Cristal Lager, Cusqueña Malta, and Pilsen Callao from Peru; Quilmes from Argentina; plus beers from El Salvador, Panama, Guatemala, Mexico, Trinidad and Tobago, and Brazil. If you simply must leave the Americas, plenty of European beers are sold cheaply throughout the West Indies and thus at Super Saver, too. Among them: Hollandia, the Dutch-brewed, poor man’s Heineken, and Bavaria. Both go for less than $10 a 12-pack. The selections change, and it’s very likely you’ll encounter foreign six-packs you’ve never seen before. Additionally the supermarket carries a nice variety of Chilean wines — all very inexpensive — for your drinking pleasure.

Let’s say you need an impertinent little Cretan wine to entertain some visiting Greeks — say, a 1998 bottle of Kretikos white. You can find it for just $10.99 at 67 Wine & Spirits, along with vino from such places as Israel, Hungary, Transylvania, and Georgia (the former Soviet republic, not the state). Did we mention that 67 also carries an enormous selection of wines from France, Italy, Australia, and the United States, as well as a full six shelves of sherries and ports? From high-end offerings (a 1994 Chateau Mouton Rothschild Pauillac for $219.99) to run-of-the-vineyard fare (the ones with twist-off tops), you’ll find them at this jam-packed little store. The store also has an equally diverse selection of liquors, along with gourmet items, prepared foods, and even a tiny cigar room. Three other 67 locations in Broward and Palm Beach counties offer comparable goods, but we prefer the one on Federal for the perverse thrill that comes from buying forbidden fruit just a few feet from the Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church, headquarters of the ultraconservative Rev. James D. Kennedy.

First off let’s get one thing straight: This is about TEQUILA. And if you think Cuervo is tequila, stop reading right now — you probably believe Budweiser is beer and Domino’s is pizza, too. For the rest of us with — ahem — more-educated palates, true tequila is only the 100 percent blue agave variety, not the stuff that José sells, which is actually half tequila and half fermented sugar. Not only is the good stuff a damn sight yummier, it’s also much less likely to give you a hangover. That’s not to say, though, that a night drinking shots at the Margarita Cafe on A1A just north of Las Olas won’t result in a head full of hurt the next morning. But at least you’ll be sipping in style. You’ll find a wide assortment of the cactus-based nectar including steely young blancos, more refined reposados, and aged, perfumey añejos. Highly recommended: shots of Patrón, Herradura, or Porfidio. After familiarizing your taste buds with those popular boutique brands, move up to the supersmooth Chinaco and the velvety-soft Hacienda del Cristero. But save room for our personal favorite — El Tesoro de Don Felipe — its three versions are the tastiest tequilas we’ve ever tried. In fact, after a night with Don Felipe’s treasures, you’ll never look at a bottle of José Cuervo without deep-seated scorn and derision. Just as you should.

Your back twinges. It aches. Sometimes it completely lays you out for days on end. Well, here’s a store made just for you. Everything that Relax the Back sells is designed to lessen pressure and reduce the pull of gravity on your throbbing spine. The stores sell beds, mattresses, pillows, wedge cushions, car seat supports, office equipment, recliners, and couches. If you don’t believe the stuff works, just sit down once in the $2600 NASA-designed recliner and feel the magic. Or listen to the numerous orthopedic doctors and dozens of chiropractors who recommend the store to their patients. The California-based franchise (there are about 150 Relax the Back stores across the U.S.) markets unique exercise equipment and stretching tools, such as water belts, that allow you to work out while floating in the pool. It also peddles those great big sports balls you lie on to stretch your back muscles and cool inversion tables that allow you to hang upside down like a bat. Take that, gravity!

Beyond the nondescript white walls and through the heavily tinted French doors is a room that looks a bit like a hotel lobby. It offers a comfy leather couch, a nice mirror, and a cherry-wood table, upon which sit several pictures of attractive women as well as two vases, 14 roses in one and 16 in the other. Three other postcard-size snapshots depict a blindfolded woman licking the tip of a stiletto heel, a pair of breasts with nipple clamps, and the back of a woman wearing a leather brassiere. Now that’s a bit odd for a hotel lobby. Then without warning a man, naked except for a black headband, comes into the room, gets some cleaning supplies from a closet, and leaves again. This is definitely no hotel. Welcome to the home of the International Dominant Divas, where for $200 per hour, a man can become the plaything of a beautiful young woman. Owner-operator Maxine Stern has run the place for just more than two years now and employs six professional dominatrixes. The clientele varies widely but includes some very affluent folk. As an example Maxine pointed out that a man is flying in from Ecuador over the weekend to use the facilities — for the fourth time. She happily states, “Everyone here is very interested in creating mutually beneficial role-playing experiences.” Indeed, with the jail cell, the cross-dressing room, the nursery, and the torture dungeon, it seems she has covered quite a few of the most popular kinky fantasies.

Proprietor Rich Sandler closed his used-book warehouse in Miami-Dade last year and moved north to a tiny building in Davie, bringing with him an idea the time for which is long overdue: reading material sold by the pound. There’s precious little method to his madness. He divides titles only into fiction and nonfiction. Beyond that you simply wander around, find something that interests you, and toss it on a scale. Sandler charges $1 per pound for everything, two-pound minimum. We picked up the Encyclopedia of World Travel volumes one and two and a copy of Chapman’s Piloting, Seamanship & Small Boat Handling, all for $7. Such a big, heavy deal.

This tiny white building across the street from a Rolls-Royce dealership appears an unlikely place to stop for fine wine. But drop in anyway and you’ll find one of Fort Lauderdale’s smallest wine shops may also be its most authentic. Owner Patrick Mevel was born in France to a family of wine connoisseurs and moved to South Florida five years ago with the dream of bringing his country’s love of wine to America. Francophobes can relax; Mevel emphasizes education, not arrogance. He has plans for winetastings, and on the wall of his shop, he’s posted a map of France’s wine regions, a welcome sign for wine beginners. He also sells champagne and cigars. But the real reason to shop here is Mevel. Under his capable direction, you can be certain your dinner party selections are toujours à propos.

There was a time when head shops were pretty much about one thing: drug paraphernalia. Then came the war on drugs. Some head shops folded; others diversified. When Jay Work, owner of Grateful J’s Dead Head Shop, opened his store, he took the latter approach. His five-year-old business offers body piercing at its Margate location and glass-blowing lessons at the Boca Raton branch. A selection of colorful glass pipes is available at both joints — “sold as art and not intended for smoking,” of course — along with other accessories meant for use “with tobacco only.” J’s also offers the requisite incense and T-shirts, as well as a smattering of “adult toys” and a full line of licensed Grateful Dead products. But what really sets his operation apart from others of its ilk in SoFla, says Work, is the tape exchange. “We’re the only store that gives away music,” he explains. Take in a blank tape, choose from the huge inventory of live Dead shows (dating back to 1965, and all authorized for reproduction by Grateful Dead Productions), and J’s will copy it for you.

Matt Reynolds’s all-ages, punk-rock, green-anarchist exchange of all things musical is going on its tenth year, having migrated slowly south from its original North Palm Beach location to Okeechobee Boulevard, and thence to its present locale in the industrial neighborhood along Georgia Avenue. A bare-bones operation of roughly cut shelves and record bins, Sound Splash is home to the area’s largest collection of alternative-music rarities, as well as radical and oddball literature. Fliers on the walls tell you how to hook up with a ride to the next antiglobalization showdown or militant feminist poetry workshop. Evenings feature the occasional thrash-ska hoedown. The new space (store implies too much organization) includes an interlinking set of courtyards out back, where you can feed the cockatoo.

Yeah, it’s a chain. But at least it’s a chain of health food stores, as oxymoronic as that notion might seem. Indeed the quirky nature of South Florida capitalism has dictated that the store with the best selection of health food, prepared meals, and offbeat products (soy Bisquick, for example) is a virtual monopoly. Whole Foods stores — despite their membership in a 75-store national corporation — do a wonderful job offering an array of designer protein powders, organic produce, premade tofu sandwiches, frozen fake meat, and other vegetarian staples. Some of Whole Foods’ bigger locations even boast smoothie bars, eateries, and aisle upon aisle of soy creations. Leftist principles aside Whole Foods will expertly satisfy even the most granola-loving South Floridians.

Ever wander into the pet aisle of your local grocer and want to eat the treats? Well, you might get the urge to do so at Bone Appétit, which smells like cookies rather than decomposing pig ears. Mouthwatering, home-baked goodies for dogs fill silver trays in a glass display case; kitty-cat treats boast real salmon and come in flavors such as seafood gumbo. You also might find yourself wanting to sleep atop the pet chaises, sofas, and daybeds for sale. Upholstered in your choice of various fine materials, they cost as much as $465. That’s right — more than what many of us pay for human furniture. And the Bark & Bath shampoos and conditioners are comparable to human salon products in content, not to mention price. More-practical owners can check out the cute neckerchiefs and eye-catching toys, as well as gifts that really are for people. Why should pets have all the fun?

Painted a cheery yellow and stocked with the bath-and-body products that are at once trendy and deluxe, Scrubbing Bubbles is the perfect place for a pick-me-up. Owner Dana Davidoff rides her bike to work each day with her poodle, Ebony, in the handlebar basket, and her store exudes the same laid-back whimsy. All manner of gift-worthy items are offered at all kinds of prices, from a leopard-print and ostrich-feather pillow for $200 to scented bath beads, which come in shapes including penguins and seahorses, for 35 cents. Aromatherapeutic products — soaps and salves infused with essential oils — are featured along with a somewhat less essential (but no less fun) selection of body gels, temporary tattoos, and jewelry.

Kyoya Japanese Market is like a 7-Eleven with subtitles. Earnest if syntactically challenged English on the wrappers and ingenious packaging of its mini-mart merchandise elevate it from banal to exotic. Gum is somehow more appealing when flavored with lychee nut or green tea; mayonnaise becomes mysterious when it squirts from a bottle shaped like a Kewpie doll. For three years owner Yasutaka Kyo has brought a bit of home to customers, mostly Broward County’s small group of Asian residents and exchange students. But Kyoya’s appeal doesn’t end with its victuals. Where else can you rent Japanimation videos, find strawberry toothpaste, and pick up some aloe vera-flavored water all at once? And since Kyoya saves you a trip to Tokyo, it may just be the area’s ultimate convenience store.

Like their signature blimps, the prices at tire megastores can be inflated. So roll those baldies (carefully!) over South Florida’s gauntlet of road debris, past a row of dodgy-looking used-tire shops along Sunrise Boulevard, to Tire Hut. The name evokes a primitive, thatched-roof building with a rubber tree out back, but don’t be misled. Trucks from local exotic car dealers line up in Tire Hut’s front lot because owner Jerry Rosenthal stocks Uniroyal, Michelin, and B.F. Goodrich, all at discount prices. Locally owned and operated, Tire Hut is not a chain but does offer chain-store features, such as free rotation every 5000 miles (provided you save your receipt) and optional road-hazard protection plans. The waiting room is small and the gumballs taste a little stale, but that’s not the point. It’s Tire Hut, remember? In just minutes you’ll hit the streets again on fresh rubber bought at a fair price, thankful that in Florida there’s at least one thing it’s legal to burn.

Is there such a thing as an honest mechanic? Yes, yes, yes! For the last 35 years, Davie Garage has been driving home the point that honesty is the best way to keep customers. If you go more than twice the employees will likely remember your name when you walk in the door. Stop in for an oil change and pay a mere $30.74, cash on the barrel, tax included. That’s right. Credit cards and checks are not accepted, thank you very much. Bob, Mark, Steve, or Vinnie will take your car for a test run afterward, just to make sure everything’s all right. If it ain’t broke, they won’t fix it. The employees also make a point of being accessible; they are the “service specialists” and the mechanics on your car, unlike so many dealerships where no one knows your name or cares about you. If you wait while your car is serviced, you’ll wait in the office, where the business dealings are transparent. Davie Garage doesn’t need gimmicks like a chair massage, cappuccino machine, or complimentary car wash. They simply do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. In the world of automobile service, that’s rare indeed.

When we think newsstand, we conjure up the image of a dingy, cramped place where the closest thing to a scenic view is the girlie magazines stacked by the cash register. Not so the newspapers and periodicals sections at Borders. They’re included in the big, bright Fort Lauderdale bookstore perched on the banks of the New River, with six sections devoted to every conceivable magazine and all the usual suspects in newspapers. When you’re done with the local rags, grab a copy of the Denver Post, Corriere della Sera, the London Times, or Le Monde. Then thumb through several hundred periodicals you never knew existed. A section labeled “Culture & Society” features magazines ranging from The Advocate to MAD and provides an enlightening glimpse into how Borders defines American culture. When you’ve selected your reading material, claim a table in the adjacent café for a latte and croissant, or better yet, take it outside to one of the umbrella-topped tables on the shaded deck, where you can check out the yachting parade while cursing at the day’s news.

As newlyweds four years ago, Tatiana and Marty Zidtowecki started Archives, a used bookstore and café. Now the cozy shop around the corner still feels like a labor of love. With worn, antique-style furnishings and wrought iron tables out front, Archives could be the sitting room of your well-read aunt. Pick up a used copy of the latest Helen Fielding novel, then choose from a large selection of Bridget Jones-like snacks; Archives recently added a selection of British delicacies such as Cadbury Milk Tray and wine gums. Located near a 24-hour Laundromat in the Gateway Shopping Center, it’s the perfect place to while away a Sunday — or a spin cycle.

Other people’s misfortune is your felicity at National Pawn & Jewelry. And judging by the inventory at this vast warehouse of all things pawned, a lot of people are in need of quick cash around here. On a recent visit, this shop had everything from chop saws to scuba tanks, bicycles to go-karts, vacuum cleaners to fax machines. It had dozens of guitars, hundreds of cameras, scores of stereos, and a jewelry section bigger than most gem stores. We even found a couple thousand CDs from which to choose, priced at $5.95 each or $4.95 if you buy ten or more. (We can’t imagine who was desperate enough to pawn his Kiss collection.) Last time we stopped in, we were impressed to see a vintage Harley-Davidson for sale. Perhaps the previous owner needed bail money. Who knows? Who cares? It’s all here, the store guarantees what it sells, and the prices are pretty good.

Jesse Rogers’s office used to be a swimsuit shop. Now it’s a one-room clubhouse of sorts for a one-man show punctuated by — what else? — one-liners. Often as not his storefront practice in the Gateway Shopping Center is full of people waiting their turns and chatting merrily. A former standup comedian and long-time yoga devotee, Rogers is a different kind of chiropractor. Clients simply drop in whenever they feel like it, and for payment drop whatever amount they choose in an honor box at the door. He doesn’t have a set fee, and he doesn’t take insurance. Rogers does, however, have a jar of fortune cookie-style papers printed with wise words from the world’s great thinkers — a different kind of doctor’s orders.

Whether you live in an efficiency apartment or on an expansive estate, nothing livens up a home like a few — or a few hundred — nice plants. And you’re not likely to find a better selection than that at NU-turf, where the claim to be “South Florida’s largest garden center” seems indisputable. You could easily spend hours strolling around the five neatly organized acres in this veritable Garden of Eden, breathing in the fresh O2 while trying to decide if your place has room for coconut trees, roses, and hanging baskets, complete with all the fixings. Knowledgeable workers — some on hand since the place opened 30 years ago — will help guide your quest if you like; they’ll even deliver and install big orders for you.

When it comes to shopping meccas, scale is everything — upscale and small-scale. Ever since they put a roof over the Sunrise Shopping Center in 1980 and renamed it the Galleria, the managers have done their darnedest to maintain the place’s status as “Fort Lauderdale’s most fashionable address.” Despite the fact that the mall’s drab linoleum floors and dull architectural features look every second of their age, snazzy anchor stores such as Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue ensure the Galleria’s continued chi-chi-ness. Even so, we like this cozy shopping destination even more for what it doesn’t have: a monster movie theater (a modest four screens here), and noise. Even when the place is bustling, it’s quiet as a tomb. When compared with the no-holds barred bedlam of Sawgrass Mills, this sounds awfully appealing.

Sure, we’ve named this place Best Tourist Trap and Best Cheap Thrill in past years but, hey, it’s a phenomenon. In this age of Disneyfied, mega-indoor shopping outlets à la Sawgrass Mills, it’s good to know there’s still a freak in the family. The Swap has been attracting tourists and an ever-diversifying mix of locals since 1966. Just driving through the eastern parking lots, which circle large drive-in movie screens (new releases screen every night for $3.50 per person), is enough fun to make the trip worthwhile, with vendors hawking everything from wooden back scratchers to fishing rods. Canvas tents cover a good deal of the outdoor shopping, where myriad pairs of granny underwear in varying tones of fuchsia and teal await. The notoriously labyrinthine, two-story indoor hall houses more stairs than an M.C. Escher drawing. A free circus performs daily — three times a day on weekends. Upstairs, Elvis slot machines, two-inch gold crucifix pendants, and Oriental swords greet you from booths and kiosks. The Swap Shop is open Monday through Friday from 6 a.m. to 5 p.m., Saturdays and Sundays 5 a.m. to 6 p.m., and parking is free.

Your bank account is down to its very last $9.66. You have nothing in your pocket, and that pack of smokes you crave is so near, yet so far away. What to do? You could take the bus over to the check-cashing store for a payday loan. But you haven’t seen a payday since you threw the wrapper away. You, my near-destitute friend, have but one option, and it is Regent Bank, which, for some unfathomable reason, still uses first-generation mechanical money trees that dispense $5 bills, not just the ubiquitous tens and twenties most ATMs spit out. Thus you can yank your last fin without entering the red zone. Most of us thought ATMs that still gave out $5 bills followed Reagan out of the White House, but we were wrong. Yes, you’ll pay $1.50 for the privilege if your account is with another bank. But that cigarette — or can of Foster’s — never tasted so good.

Before the good lord calls you home, make sure you go see Ricky Williams at Community Monument & Casket Company. Williams can save you some big bucks from his small store. Not that you’ll care, you’ll be dead. But think about your loved ones. With the money they don’t spend on your casket — Williams can lay you out in a 20-gauge steel number for $550 compared to $2000 or more from a funeral home — the family can throw a really nice party. You know, get the top-shelf liquor instead of the cheap stuff, hire a band, do it up right. If none of the ten or so boxes on display appeals to you, Williams can special-order one that will arrive in 24 hours. He’s been selling containers for your earthly remains since 1989, so you can rest assured he knows the business.

Picking FAO Schwarz in this category is a bit like choosing the Atlantic Ocean as the finest place for a saltwater swim. There’s simply no toy store in South Florida that measures up to those operated by the 139-year-old New York City-based retailer. And while there are now six locations in South Florida, none is better than the one that opened last year in the $550 million CityPlace development in downtown West Palm Beach. With horn-blowing, flag-waving bears sitting atop a 76-foot-high clock tower, the two-story store screams fun. To enter, you pass a giant bronze bear playing with giant bronze blocks and two 20-foot-high bears decked out like toy soldiers. Let the kiddies climb on the bronze bear and pose for pictures. It’s all part of the experience that continues inside when young and old alike are encouraged not just to touch the merchandise but to play with it. While the store gets a lot of press for poor-little-rich-boy toys such as a $40,000 gas-powered miniature Lamborghini, a $6000 rocking horse, a $699 kid-size Harley-Davidson motorcycle, and a $650 cuddly stuffed elephant, the store is not just for the filthy rich. Childhood mainstays such as Chutes and Ladders, Monopoly, Sorry!, Scrabble, and even Lincoln Logs are available at discount-department-store prices, and unusual items, such as in-line skates with collapsible wheels (to convert into shoes) are also in stock.

You’ll have no excuse to live without fragrance and beauty once you’ve discovered Field of Flowers, the floral supermarket with locations in Davie and Coral Springs. Owner Donn F. Flipse is a third-generation florist: Granddad Jimmy migrated to Miami from Scotland at the outset of the last century and opened a landscaping and flower business, dad Fred joined after World War II, and Donn took up the trowel in 1971, opening Field of Flowers in 1990. The two locations offer 150 varieties of fresh-cut flowers by the stem, bunch, or arrangement. And they’re cheap! Of the five-dozen available arrangements, half cost less than $50; they start at $17.50 for a little charmer called “Minuet” and average about $35. All are on display in the store’s glass refrigerators, but if you can’t make it to one of the sites, you can order over the Internet. Prefer to do it yourself but don’t know how? Attend floral design school, in which you’ll create arrangements using fresh-cut flowers, live plants, and accessories. And should you find yourself at the Davie store on a Saturday afternoon, take advantage of the free cake-tasting, compliments of Susie’s Scrumptious Sweets. Susie started this custom some years ago to develop a cake-baking business, which is now booming. Hey, why quit while you’re ahead?