Cigars are more than a tobacco product. They're a lifestyle and a fashion statement. Cigar Outlet, a spacious, one-stop shop for anything and everything related to rolled tobacco leaves, knows that well. For eight years, this little cigar store on Commercial Boulevard has been selling everything from top-of-the-line stogies and $1 cigars to humidors and attire. A shopping excursion here can quickly transport you to another place and state of mind. Grab an Arturo Fuente and a fancy butane lighter, then shop the clothes rack for a crisp guayabera. Once you're home in your backyard, the guayabera buttoned up and the stogie burning red, you'll swear that you're relaxing on the beach in Havana. Heck, you might even swear the I-95 traffic noise sounds like the gentle, rolling waves of the Caribbean.
Containing less than half the starched-shirt stuffiness of its Las Olas counterpart, Macabi in Plantation is also one of only two bars in the entire suburb. Concealed in an out-of-the-way corner of the vacancy-prone Fountains Mall, Macabi can't afford to traffic in such snootiness. Friendly faces behind the bar are legitimately glad to see you; the folks enjoying stogies around the rail are more likely to wear baseball caps turned backward and sneakers than Brooks Brothers and penny loafers. TVs will be tuned to sports, not the stock exchange. (If you want to check how your mutual fund's doing, use the room's wireless Internet connection.) The Wall of Cigars, though, hits the high notes more often than not, as does the drink selection. A seriously substantial array of (but of course) single malts makes up a strong backbone, but Macabi is one of only a few places in the area to serve German beer (Spaten) on tap. If you really want to be pampered, go for a bottle of Silver Oak Cabernet ($115), or if you're strolling in after dinner, uncork a Porto Barros 40 ($38 a glass). Yeah, you'll look like a snob... and that's not easy to do in Plantation.
On vacation in New York City's East Village, a local record geek wastes no time finding a music store, hoping to spend the last of his travel money on records he assumes can't be found in South Florida. After perusing the store's decent-but-not-great assortment of old power-pop records, he selects a small handful and heads to the counter, hoping the owner will cut him a deal. But the owner is a haughty prick, and the geek leaves the store too irate to spend even 50 cents on a Clash button. Back home in Broward County, the geek happens by the CD Collector of Pompano and finds exactly the same records he almost bought in NYC (the A's, the Quick, the Motors, Mink DeVille). And they're loads cheaper too, averaging from about $4 to no more than ten bucks. For the few albums the geek isn't sure about, owner Ritchie Siegrist lets him have a trial spin. Of course, by then the geek has been bitten by the must-have bug, eagerly prepared to splurge on anything in the store, be it an Iron Maiden DVD ($19.95), a Misfits T-shirt ($15), or any of the bundles of new and used CDs (rock, hip-hop, country, jazz, etc.). But that's OK, because Siegrist cuts his new customer a deal, leaving him a little money left over and ensuring that he'll return for more come next week's paycheck.

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