Shopping & Services

This is junkyard heaven, the place where cool, funky things go to die or to be bought or rented as the case may be. Chandeliers and traffic lights hang from the ceiling while stained-glass windows, Coca-Cola vending machines, marble busts, golf clubs, and bookshelves line the walls. Looking for a life-size bronze boar sculpture with green patina? It’s here. A vintage, Jetsons-style Philco Predicta television set from the Fifties? Yep, right over there. A giant Head and Shoulders shampoo display bottle? Check the back. Old gas station signs, telephones, typewriters? Got ’em. Don’t know what you’re looking for? Give yourself at least an hour to walk through this Smithsonian-scale emporium. If you feel yourself getting tired, plop yourself down in that row of movie-theater seats over by the door.

If Laurenzo’s were nothing more than the area’s best Italian market (and most people say it is), it would still be worth writing about. But the 50-year-old institution is so much more: a slice of Little Italy in Miami-Dade County, an oasis of Old World charm, a portal onto the past. Laurenzo’s isn’t just a store. It’s a milieu. And it comes with its own soundtrack, piped in direct from the Fifties and featuring a couple of Italian crooners you may have heard before. Where else can you get “Volare” with your veal? “Memories Are Made of This” with your mozzarella? “Sway” with your spaghetti? Ah, Laurenzo’s. “That’s Amore!”

“From the womb to the tomb and all moments in between.” Those are the appropriate times for flowers and plants, according to the ebullient Jenny Kallert, who has run her famous flower shop since 1973. With the fastidious zip of a German-accented bee in pollination mode, she works in her environs making “creations,” not mere arrangements. To Jenny, who in 1959 escaped communist East Germany with her family (all of whom were also florists), flowers are not just luxuries to be appreciated on special occasions. They are necessities, as vital to life as air, food, and water. She keeps things intimate by customizing each piece and working only with independently owned greenhouses instead of large-scale flower growers; Jenny’s stock includes a variety of tulips, azaleas, orchids, and roses not normally sold at your everyday FTD stand.

Broward has Bob’s and we have Worldwide. That’s the best way to explain this store’s perennial lock on this category. If you’re looking for an obscure magazine or an out-of-town newspaper, this is where you must come. And if Worldwide doesn’t have it, you’re out of luck, bub. Regardless of what you were searching for initially, it’s hard to imagine leaving Worldwide empty-handed. Several well-organized aisles offer up everything from the Observer (both London’s and New York City’s) to more colorful publications such as Paranoia! and Bitch. Best of all is an owner who is not only familiar with virtually every title in his store but the precise day of the week they’re set to arrive. Never again will you miss an issue of Asian Cult Cinema.

When the vindaloo you’ve eaten in restaurants just won’t do, it’s time to try making it yourself. The perfect place to stock up on supplies is Bombay Super Bazaar. This small market boasts a bounty of ingredients destined for innumerable Indian dishes from every region. Packed in bags of various sizes: every spice known to man (including elusive cardamom pods), chickpeas, lentils, assorted legumes, and fragrant basmati rice. A freezer holds meats and filled breads. Bunches of aromatic fresh herbs are available too. And for those less inclined to create things from scratch, shelves display a slew of sauces, soups, pastes, and chutneys that can be mixed with all sorts of elements for a quick meal.

An unofficial survey indicates many Miamians (well, at least three or four) do not buy anything, except groceries, anywhere but this flea market. Why run around to different malls and spend more, they reason, when on any given Sunday afternoon they can take Mom and the kids out to the pulguero (that’s what the thrifty souls in the survey call it — Spanish, you know, the preferred language of the majority of the sellers and clientele), plop down 50 cents to get in, a few more dollars for sodas or sno-cones, pick up the underwear or socks or mattress or kitchen table they need, and make a nice outing of it. A little extra change and you’ve got a stuffed bear that dances to merengue and a stunning pair of green plastic five-inch platform sandals. For today’s busy American, this is where you get more for your dollar and your time!

We trolled bowling-alley parking lots, video arcades, tattoo parlors, and public handicap ramps to survey skate rats about the best shop in town. Whether it was in Kendall, Westchester, or Aventura, the overwhelming favorite was Fritz’s. This Lincoln Road storefront distinguishes itself by not only being the coolest place to assemble a new skateboard, but the friendly staff is knowledgeable enough to hook you up with the best trucks, king pins, and baddest-looking deck around. The fact that Fritz’s has been on Lincoln Road for more than half a decade is testament enough to its popularity. Many of the independent boutiques that once dotted the mall folded as rents skyrocketed. So skate on over. It’s still not a crime to Rollerblade on wannabe-tony Lincoln Road. But skateboarders beware: You’re likely to be busted.

Zoom by too fast on Biscayne Boulevard and you might mistake Morningside Antiques for a small house. And it certainly was once upon a time. Now it’s an intimate antique mall featuring a series of rooms that act as booths run by different dealers. Wander through leisurely and you’re sure to come upon treasures: tasteful midcentury modern marvels that seem as if they were dropped here from outer space, prim and proper Victoriana, swanky Art Deco delights, rustic French provincial furniture and decorative arts, swinging Sixties and Seventies lamps and the like, tiny silver spoons, un-PC Black Americana, colorful printed linens, and sparkling trinkets galore. So what if the Baroque mahogany rocking chair you bought looks a little odd with the boomerang Formica coffee table in your living room? Tell the friends about to commit you that your style is eclectic — not schizophrenic.

If you’re looking for a stark example of the difference between a corporate giant and a locally owned emporium, just mosey through the carefully stocked aisles of New Concept Video, which serves up practically everything its surrounding community is after: imported fashion magazines, of-the-moment dance-music CDs, and of course an array of offbeat titles — both new and old, foreign and homegrown. What really makes New Concept shine, however, isn’t just the presence of recent highly touted indie flicks that never graced Miami’s theaters (Lisa Picard is Famous, Wet Hot American Summer, George Washington, the list sadly goes on), but a redefinition of that very phrase “blockbuster.” Don’t have Showtime? Still curious about that cable channel’s gay telenovela Queer As Folk and its resultant buzz? Forget about hitting your nearest Blockbuster. That chain’s Miami outlets dithered for more than two months before finally overcoming prudish moral concerns and deciding to stock tapes of the series’ episodes. As for other “controversial” films, such as Bad Lieutenant, Blockbuster demands its very own customized edit before it’ll deign to carry the picture. Over at New Concept, however, from its first day of release there was an entire wall of Queer As Folk (on both VHS and DVD), ensuring the type of “always available” rental status that this store’s rivals only extend to more hackneyed displays of male bonding such as Pearl Harbor. We’ll stick with the shop that keeps its priorities, ahem, straight.

In the Bird-Ludlam Shopping Center there are three places to get your nails done, but only one salon will do if you want a seven-dollar manicure and more chisme (gossip) than you can possibly process. While your cuticles are being pushed back and the polish is being applied, you’ll hear about what happened this week in the Mexican telenovelas, reviews of Enrique Iglesias’s newest release, and why the latest fatal disease to strike Fidel Castro means that for el tirano the end is surely near. Knowledge of Spanish is a help, but the dish comes in English too.

The topiaries perched on the fence posts give you a clue about what you’ll discover at this family-run nursery. The eager assistance, available as soon as you open your car door, will soothe any confusion you may experience gazing upon the tangle of vegetation in front of you. And the landscaping know-how will allow you to select the best ground cover, flowering bushes, ficus hedges, and climbing vines for your home. But sometimes it’s all about the veggies. That’s what endears us to Cornell’s. This Eden stocks the best garden starters around, from beefsteak seedlings to Scotch bonnet peppers already in bloom. Some of the items, including baby mixed greens and flowering purple cabbages, come up from Lovell Farms down south, but others are nurtured in the nursery simply because the proprietors love to experiment. That means when you’re ready to plant your plot in the early spring, you can buy the notoriously slow-to-grow garlic and leeks already well established. It also means you can get some produce plants you may not be able to find at Wal-Mart or Home Depot. Whether you’re looking for lemongrass or lemon-yellow tomatoes, you have a better chance at Cornell’s, where the owners are also students of home agriculture.

You’ve got the family, the job, the little plot of land. What’s missing from your idyllic life? Oh, right. The folks from whom you bought your house had thumbs about as green as the sky. You need trees, and since you live in Miami you figure they might as well bear fruit and save you some bucks in the end. Not that they cost that much to begin with, if you buy them young and do so at Clinica de las Plantas. “Florida Master gardener” Jesus A. Ramos stocks a large supply of subtropical saplings in this nursery. Don’t be fooled by the flowers in front; make your way to the back. There you’ll find sapodilla, mamey, guayaba (guava), lychee, and longan trees. In the market for mangoes? You can find at least five different varieties here, including the ever-popular Haden, football-size Keitt, juicy Edward, sun-yellow Carrie, fiberless Beverly, and top-notch Nom Dac Mai. Bargain-hunting for bananas? Buy them if you see them — these are the Clinica’s biggest sellers and Ramos is often out. Trees range from $29.95 to $39.95, depending on size, and the staff will assist you in choosing the nicest specimens and then carry them to your car for you. In fact, the only thing they won’t do is help you plant them at home. But that’s okay. Nothing’s more satisfying than knowing the fruit of your labors is yours alone.

This is the place for those who want to scope out their funnybooks and still feel like a grownup. The Archie/Pokémon/Disney presence is relatively low-key. Cutesy card games and movie tie-in toys clearly aren’t this previous “Best of Miami” winner’s reason for existing. Instead the haphazardly stacked selections feature everything from Marvel to Oni Press, plus a good variety of gaming materials and Japanimation. It can be a little tough to find that one specific title in this tiny space, but the friendly folks behind the counter will be happy to get it for you.

You’re a generous person with a heart for gift-giving, but you’re a lousy shopper without an ounce of creativity. Every Mother’s Day you do five laps around the mall looking for the perfect gift, only to end up empty-handed, bitter, and with sore feet. Wearily you lick the envelope on yet another cheap greeting card and drop it in the mailbox — without a package — and wonder how you will ever break this cycle of gift-giving failure. Fear not, for there is a solution that will turn you into the hero of all holidays: Cookies by Design. Stop by any of three locations in Miami-Dade to check out their patented “Cookie Bouquet” gift concept: Freshly baked, oversize sugar cookies are playfully hand-decorated with vibrant colors and arranged in baskets to create a treat as lovely to look at as it is sweetly satisfying. Acknowledge any holiday, recognize any achievement, or express any emotion through a variety of theme baskets. They also have a line of Disney characters that any child would go nuts over. Finally it’s not even necessary to leave home to do your good deed. Orders can be placed online or by phone.

All the usual potions and talismans and statuettes and candles and flowers any good santero needs are here in the heart of Allapattah. On the exterior green walls of this building are painted colorful renditions of some of Latin America’s more popular Catholic saints, such as Caridad del Cobre and Niño de Antocha. If you and your Santería santo have a certain problem or situation requiring a particular herb or tincture or perfume, just tell the knowledgeable people who work here. They know what you need. They also stock a nice selection of melodiously crowing and cackling roosters and hens, just in case you’re looking for a back yard pet.

Guayaberas may now be ubiquitous, as familiar a sight in South Beach as in Little Havana, as popular with club-hopping twentysomethings as with potbellied old men. But there is still only one mago de la guayabera (guayabera magician): Ramon Puig, owner of La Casa de las Guayaberas, the famed Miami emporium. The Cuban-born Puig has been making guayaberas for more than 60 years. His client list has included Cuban President Carlos Prio as well as U.S. presidents Ronald Reagan, George Bush, and Bill Clinton. The man has stories, and he’ll gladly share them with anyone who wanders into his shop. But the guayaberas — gorgeous creations in a variety of fabrics and colors — are a different matter. Those he’ll charge you for.

If this dive shop is good enough for Flipper, most likely it will be good enough for you. The pros at Miami Seaquarium drive across the Rickenbacker Causeway regularly to get their tanks filled and equipment repaired by the guys at Bubbles. As a shop, they offer the latest gear from SeaQuest, Mares, and other top brands. As a dive school, the instructors offer open-water dive certification — a two-week course for $249 that includes at least four open-water dives. They also offer advanced courses and a first-aid course. The Bubbles crew even acts as travel agent, organizing dive trips to several hot spots, including Belize and Colombia. But if you don’t want to go that far, they offer Saturday reef dives and Sunday wreck dives as well as spooky night dives on Wednesdays.

Frankly the only tears we see flowing in here are ones of joy. No consumer in his or her right mind would even think of shedding one in sadness, given the plethora of goods you can peruse for your young one, ranging from cute little one-size outfits (with matching hats) for newborns to faux fur coats for your big, grown-up four-year-old. Think little boys can’t appreciate what Crybaby has to offer? We’ve got two words for you: train accessories. And just in case Mom’s feeling a little low, there are plenty of self-pampering opportunities as well. The store keeps a separate section for women who might appear mature — i.e., baby on hip — but who like to dress in hip junior fashions and who may occasionally venture outdoors without diaper bag and toddler in tow. Naturally the place is also great for buying that perfect shower gift.

In this current age of paranoia, which dates back at least ten years and which was heightened tremendously by September 11, well-heeled folks (Colombians and Venezuelans who can’t shake the creepy feeling they’re vulnerable and need extra zones of protection) are turning more and more to James Bond-style specialty shops to make themselves feel safer. How about a pair of wireless video-surveillance sunglasses to record every suspicious thing you see? Or how about a camera pen you can manipulate as you chat or that you use from across the street to record the presence of someone who might be up to something dire? Or a Predator G-3 Night Vision System you can wear in a rig like a goggled hardhat and that lets you see in pitch dark? Most of this stuff costs from $2000 to $4000, but some custom deals, like a car-bomb-prevention device that operates from the trunk of your vehicle, could be considerably more pricey. It is, however, guaranteed by Counterspy founder Benjamin Jamil, who makes Miami’s other spy stores look like gadgeterias.

This is a carefree, open-air oasis with buckets of cut flowers and bins of produce at your fingertips as you stroll along the sociable Calle Ocho sidewalk. Coco frio is said to be the specialty here, and there’s something naturally wonderful about grabbing a freshly slashed coconut and sucking down the sweet juice. The rest of the juices and batidos are just as fresh, tasty, and invigorating. Highly recommended: mamey and mango batidos.

It’s only a year old but already the Dolphin Mall has its devoted fanatics. One of the appeals is variety: more than 200 stores running the gamut from low-end to high, from Burlington Coat Factory to Bebe. There are also outlets (Off 5th, Bombay), offbeat gift stores (Exotic Treasures), and standard mall fare (Old Navy). The outdoor area invites you to lounge in the sun with a smoothie in hand. The indoor-minded can play Skee-Ball at Dave & Buster’s, sip a café mocha at Borders, or watch would-be rock gods strum guitars at Mars. Clearly this mall wants you to sit down and stay awhile — then get back up and shop till you drop.

Given the pedigree of the husband-and-wife owners — 34-year-old Jeffrey Wolfe was formerly general manager of Norman’s restaurant, and 29-year-old Christie was marketing manager for Augustan Wine Imports — we had a suspicion this place would stock some pretty eclectic bottles gleaned from family-run wineries like Napa’s Livingston Moffett Winery and Sonoma Valley’s Frank Johnson Vineyards. We also kind of thought, since they’d originally wanted to open a café/wine bar along with the retail store, that the Wolfes would be holding tastings, featuring rebels like David Ramey of Ramey Vineyards in Carneros. But who would have imagined the place would be so darn cute, the wine stored in “lockers” rather than formal racks, or that the shop’s décor would be more suitable to filming an MTV video than catering to stuffy enophiles? Who would have guessed that many of the tastings, at ten dollars per ticket, include a take-home wine glass courtesy of Spiegelau? And who would’ve believed that the Wolfes would take a bite out of the cost of collecting wines by pricing many of the niche bottles under $30 and providing a computer kiosk with a CD burner so you can save info about the wines you’re enjoying? Well, we did, of course. And now you will too.

The pleasure of shopping at the Shores Publix begins outside, in the ample parking lot, where an empty space can usually be found with relatively little effort (if the lot is full, just take the ramp to the rooftop parking deck; an elevator will bring you to ground level). Before you go in, though, stand back and admire the architecture: the decorative tropical shutters, the arched doorways, the covered walkway illuminated by large, industrial-style lanterns. Once inside, you’ll discover what the exterior only hints at: This isn’t so much a supermarket as it is a village shopping district, one with its own bakery; apothecary; flower shop; produce, meat, and fish markets; and wine shop. The floral center has bouquets, plants, and even garden sculptures for sale. The bakery section, likewise, is large enough to be considered its own separate shop, filling that end of the store with the divine smell of freshly baked goods. And everywhere there is activity. At the seafood market a sushi chef busily works at his station. Produce clerks constantly replenish the supply of fresh fruits and vegetables. Can’t find something among the luxuriously wide aisles? There’s always someone you can ask. And if you can’t find something, you really should ask because chances are they carry it. The strength of this shoppers’ paradise is selection, from its wide assortment of ethnic foods (including an extensive array of West Indian goodies) to health foods to its glorious wine section: three aisles and two entire walls of fermented grape juice, from $4 to $50 per bottle. No wonder Upper Eastside regulars commonly refer to this place as Mecca.

On Sundays, when everyone is off work, this grocery store looks like the site of a fiesta. In aisles festooned with all-occasion piñatas, shoppers — many with kids in tow — load carts with provisions for the week ahead. A lot of socializing takes place here. And eating, too. There is a nacho kiosk by the front door, and back in the corner an in-house tortillería. Few can resist slipping a still-warm tortilla from the bag, adding a dollop of salsa, and savoring a taste of home right there by the economy-size bags of rice and beans. On the shelves: chilies, various types of mole, cases of Tamarindo soda, and an esoteric selection of herbs, including cola caballo (literally “horse’s tail,” or shave grass), used to make a tea said to cure kidney problems.

At Tenth Street near downtown Miami, Daddy’s is presided over by Herman (“Dat’s the only name you need!”), a guy who’ll purchase your wristwatches (“Rolex is still da best”), AK-47s (“Dat’s a lotta money — I can’t quote ya a price ’cause prices vary, ya unnerstand?”), or Sony 30-inch TVs (“Couple hundred if it’s good, ya unnerstand?”). The weapons display at Daddy’s is awesome. Just inside the door are hung M-16s, Glocks large and small, .45s, “nines” (nine millimeters), and little ladylike pearl-handled derringers. All are secured and all have their firing pins removed for safety, but Herman gets nervous at their propinquity: “Hey, this ain’t just a gunshop! Look at these Dell laptops!” And there’s a big electronic bolt that lets you in and out of Daddy’s. “Write dis: ‘Smooth. Fair prices. No bullshit,’ unnerstand?” Nine until late.

At this small, unassuming store on the northern fringes of Little Havana, dancers can purchase everything they need to dress up their routine. Danskin unitards that normally sell for $50 or $60 can be had here for little more than $20. On our last visit we came across the most inexpensive pair of jazz boots we’ve ever seen. The selection is broad enough to include both jingle and straight taps, not to mention every type of tight, even up to the impossible-to-find plus sizes. And although StarStyled is an independent store unaffiliated with any chain (which is nice), it’s still established enough to sell the Capezio brand (which is even nicer).

Maybe Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue is playing when you walk in. Maybe you spot on the newsstand a literary magazine you’ve never heard of — Tin House, for example. Maybe when you’re inside the store, slowly looking over the new books displayed on tables and the older stock arrayed on dark-wood shelves that reach far overhead, something reminds you of a long-ago favorite. Maybe it’s John Updike’s Rabbit, Run. Maybe at that moment a bookstore employee walks by, and you ask about the book, and she says, “Yes, right over here.” And maybe, seconds later, she hands you a recent Ballantine Books trade paperback edition, and it is cool to the touch. Maybe you then decide to buy a cup of coffee at the in-store café and walk out into the courtyard to sit at a table under a palm. “Boys are playing basketball around a telephone pole with a backboard bolted to it. Legs, shouts,” you read. Maybe right then you appreciate how fortunate you are.

I could see this dame was trouble the minute I laid eyes on her. A tough-looking blonde with a hard smile and a bagful of sideways glances. Yeah, I knew better than to ask her for help. So I just browsed the aisles and bided my time. They were all there, 8000 sordid little stories of greed, lust, and dead bodies. The cocky bastards had even left their bloody handprints on the back wall, signing their names, just asking to get caught.

Here is a real find for political-science junkies interested in Latin America. Tucked into a strip mall across from Tropical Park, this Colombian-owned store specializes in a collection of books that concentrates on social upheaval throughout the Americas. Since 1989 its owners, Eduardo and Norma Duran, have imported the latest and most important Latin literature directly from South American publishing houses. Their collection includes titles not normally found in Miami’s Latin bookstores. For example, Eduardo says he’s proud to carry books and journals written from every side of the conflict in his home country. As a result the shop has become a haunt for academics and curious readers of all nationalities. While the book collection also includes translations of self-help, science-fiction, metaphysics, and best-sellers, the place does live up to its name: magazines and newspapers. The Durans offer hard-to-find copies of Central and South American papers like Argentina’s El Clarín and Colombia’s El Tiempo and El Espectador. Libreria’s popularity among Westchester Latinos could be indicative of Miami’s shifting populations: Ever-increasing numbers of Colombianos, Peruanos, Argentinos, and Chilenos are walking through the door.

The word “records” is a bit of a misnomer these days, given that Blue Note owner Bob Perry has transferred the bulk of his store’s vinyl to a separate jazz annex a few blocks away. But despite that additional schlep now required for those still, ahem, possessing needles and in need of a twelve-inch fix, Blue Note remains the best one-stop shop in Miami for folks whose tastes run deeper than the narrow offerings served up on the radio. Indeed it’s that very focus on the offbeat, the forgotten classic, and the current avant-garde that keeps hip-hop fans, indie rockers, gospel lovers, Philly soul aficionados, and Latin boogaloo freaks alike all poring through Blue Note’s aisles. Best of all, if you can sing a verse of it — no matter how off key — the helpful staff here will do their best to track it down, and they’ll even be courteous enough to wait until you leave before commenting on how you managed to redefine the words tone deaf. Now that’s service worth saluting.

Other stores may have larger selections, but Grooveman is the DJ’s record store. Stocked with everything relevant — from club standards to obscure imports — Grooveman concentrates solely on a DJ’s needs, resisting the temptation to turn the shop into another South Beach tourist trap. With an inventory that spans the electronic-music spectrum, Grooveman carries just about every style of wax-cutting available: progressive house, trance, jungle, breakbeats — no genre is absent. Even hip-hop gets a section, clearly making the point that two turntables, no matter what’s spinning on them, makes a DJ. The staff is knowledgeable. Six listening stations are available. It’s also a great place to spot members of the DJ elite such as co-owner George Acosta and Miami’s favorite guest, house legend Danny Tenaglia.

Looking for that old Bola de Nieve bolero your abuelo used to sing? Itching for a copy of that Pablo Neruda poem set to music by Aterciopelados but you can’t remember what it’s called? Eager to hear the latest releases from Cuba, Brazil, Colombia, or Spain? Has collecting round discs etched with music gone beyond being your hobby to becoming an obsession? Get thee to the Museo del Disco, the Latin music superstore opened last year by long-time distributor Hinsul Lazo. With a softly carpeted showroom that houses rack upon rack of records categorized by genre, national origin, and in some cases even record label, the Museo is indeed like a museum. But don’t be fooled; Lazo’s experience in distribution has led him to build up a state-of-the-art search engine that can find in an instant whatever you’re hankering for. And if it’s not in the store, the folks at Museo will get it for you. Now, how did that old Gran Combo chorus go again?

As those wise men of dance culture, the Village People, once opined, “You can’t stop the music.” That’s definitely the motto over at Uncle Sam’s, which took this award last year and deserves it again in 2002. Why? Because a never-ending supply of used CDs keeps turning over, rewarding a weekly stop whether you’re seeking the latest beats from clubland, tomorrow’s altrock heroes, or that elusive Neil Diamond collection. Even better are the listening stations, allowing you to actually hear that act you just read about but aren’t quite ready to invest with $7.98.

This diminutive storefront looks unremarkable from the outside. You might even miss it if you’re not paying attention. But on the inside, where every available square inch is taken up by clothes, jewelry, and accessories, it’s pretty darn amazing. Twice As Nice is all secondhand merchandise, but much of it has barely or never been touched. These aren’t thrift-store clothes. Sexy evening gowns, workout apparel, business wear, jeans and tops — all the latest fashions in perfect condition. And all priced to sell fast. They must move the inventory quickly. Otherwise you’d never be able to get through the door.

Let us ask you something. Are you gonna buy the ten-inch Jeff Stryker molded-plastic cock from just any purveyor of the prurient, or are you going to buy it from the little neighborhood porn shop that’s been helping Miami get off for more than 30 years? That’s what we thought. Actually the Pussycat is one of four stores owned by Ed Sharpe — in New York, Miami, and Fort Lauderdale. The Greenwich Village Pink Pussycat also has a storied three-decade history, with officials comparing it favorably with the seedier porn shops that once choked Times Square. Same story in Miami, with city officials raising their hackles only a few times in 30 years. As in 1998, when city inspectors tried to tell the Pink Pussycat it couldn’t sell the adult novelty items it had been selling for 25 years. “What is Coconut Grove without a Pink Pussycat?” Sharpe asked at the time. “It’s the flavor of the Grove. It’s not adult books with peep-show machines. It’s a quaint little adult toy store.” The Pussycat is primarily geared toward women, featuring an array of dildos, vibrators, tickling panties, videos, and naughty chocolates. But there is something for everyone, such as novelty items like inflatable sheep and fun buttons that say things like: “Is my dick too long for this dress?” For the control-freak man in your life, the store offers a vibrator with a recorder that will capture up to ten seconds of your one and only screaming, “Who’s your daddy!”

One of the best one-stop shopping concepts in town. Both Best Time locations offer a pretty extensive selection of cheap to moderately priced wines (seven to sixteen bucks) as well as a counter for Cuban coffee and sandwiches. The perfect place to grab a bottle for that unexpected dinner party and refuel for the long night ahead with a shot of high-octane espresso. Coffee and wine. Why didn’t we think of that?

Remember all those times in college you told your parents you had been at the library studying when you actually had been out drinking? You weren’t lying. You were just anticipating this place. Crown isn’t just a liquor and wine shop; it’s the ivory tower of vino, Wine U., an institute of higher fermentation. To go along with its stunning assortment of beer, wine, and liquor — and gourmet cheeses, and fine chocolates, and premium salsas and chips and dips — Crown has as knowledgeable a staff as you’re likely to find outside the Ivy League. Sure there’s Chip Cassidy, Crown’s wine director (who really is a college professor, regularly lecturing on wine technology at Florida International University’s School of Hospitality Management), but most everyone who works there knows the stuff. Take, for example, Fred Barger at the North Miami location. “There’s a real interesting history behind Krug champagne,” he recently explained while ringing up a bottle of it for a customer. “During World War II, the elder Krug [who was French] convinced the occupying German forces that the complete stock of champagne they were looking at had already been sold. Why that would keep the Germans from confiscating it, I don’t know, but he printed up counterfeit receipts for all of it. Consequently there are still a couple of bottles left of Krug 1925, 1926.” Pause. “Is that all today?” Drop in even if you’re not short on wine. You could learn something.

Ay, Mami! When Tio took us to see the trucos, I got too scared! There’s this big witch’s head when you walk in the door, and it’s so ugly! I told Tio I had to go back to the car but he just laughed at me. Then you go in and they have all these body parts you can put on and look really scary, and then there’s these mummy sort of masks where you look like you’ve been buried for a long time. Then Tio throws a humongous cucaracha at me and I almost died! Except it was just plastic. They have so many things made out of plastic but they look totally real. You can put this mouth on over your mouth with rotten teeth and shriveled-up lips. Well, finally this lady showed me how I could dress up like a princess with a crown and sparkly shoes and a beautiful dress, and even a wig, so I wasn’t very nervous anymore. But Tio kept scaring me and making me look at witches and monsters and yucky things like piles of caca, but they weren’t real, and he told me I had to go back there every day. Mami, don’t let him get me!

Warning! If you own a PC, this is not for you. But if you own an Apple, consider yourself in heaven. When your maniac Mac goes totally bozo, which scenario would you prefer: 1) While you try to explain the problem to some SuperduperSlickStore front-desk person who’s basically a receptionist, your sick computer is whisked into a back room from which, weeks later, it emerges allegedly but not usually fixed, and with the repair largely unexplained. Or 2) Within minutes of the patient being carried into the store, a friendly techie has it apart in front of your anxious eyes, analyzing, explaining, and often (if parts are right there and you’re desperate) repairing the problem on the spot. Normally repairs at Computer Village take only days, and involve none of the “facilitated service” megaprices the big boys often charge to just diagnose, not fix, your computer in less time than it takes your business to slip into bankruptcy. Everything is explained, including helpful hints about what to try if the patient relapses at midnight when the shop is closed. Prices are reasonable. Repairs of repairs, if necessary, are fast and free. In short you’re treated like a person, not a machine. Reason enough to patronize this admittedly frumpy little shop.

Back in 1981, when Owen Lee and his wife Joan took a gamble on a business opportunity by purchasing a bicycle shop, it seemed a relatively straightforward enterprise. Inventory decisions were simple — a limited number of manufacturers produced a limited number of models. Mountain bikes were unknown outside an elite group of enthusiasts in northern California. Since then the cycling world has been revolutionized. The number of manufacturers has exploded, and they’re now producing numerous models, each available in a variety of sizes and colors. Lightweight aluminum frames have largely replaced heavy steel. Other technological advances, from shock absorbers to sophisticated shifting mechanisms, have transformed old fat-tire cruisers into sleek machines. Through it all the Lees, originally from Jamaica, have adapted and thrived. They’ve settled on Trek, Giant, and GT as their main brands, and stock numerous models of each. Volume purchasing allows them to lock in discounted prices. Three full-time mechanics means they can provide service seven days a week. They don’t employ high-pressure salespeople and they value their customers enough to offer a 60-day in-house warranty for any problem at no cost (flat tires excepted). The Lees, who sell an average of 100 bikes each month, keep their expansive shop open Monday through Saturday from 9:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. and Sundays from 11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.

Pressing your nose against the windows of the ritzy furniture stores in Coral Gables has to stop. You can’t afford what you stare at so longingly, and you’re smudging a lot of glass. Yeah, yeah, furniture is an investment, but in this case saving pennies isn’t an option. You just can’t bring yourself to purchase a loveseat that rivals the cost of your rent. What to do? Stay in the Gables and saunter down the street to Spasics, where you’ll find similarly stylish goods at significantly lower prices. That steel-and-glass adjustable Eileen Gray-designed side table you’ve lusted after for eons? A knock-off version here goes for $189, about $300 less than you’d pay for the “official” piece down the street. A black leather-and-steel tubing Le Corbusier-style chair that would command thousands elsewhere costs $895. Add to that an array of attractive and well-made bedroom and dining sets, living room furnishings, and an assortment of floor lamps (including a stainless steel torchère that seems to emit flames) hovering in the $140 range and you could be sitting, sleeping, eating, and seeing pretty sooner than you think. Those who know what they like but not how to put it together shouldn’t despair. Interior design and lighting services are available.

Dolls are toys too! A toy emporium doesn’t have to be packed with Pokémon, G.I. Joes, Beanie Babies, or remote-controlled cars. We’ll admit it may be a little creepy walking into this two-and-a-half-year-old store, which is wall-to-wall dolls, and being stared at by a thousand pairs of eyes. But we’re happy to report that one pair of peepers belongs to famous Spanish figure Mariquita Perez, a post-World War II favorite of many an affluent Latin girl. Mariquita, born in 1938 San Sebastian, Spain, sports a head full of long brown curls, big blue eyes, and a series of snazzy outfits and accessories — straw hats, sundresses, sailor suits, and the like. Outside of Spain she is only available here, in a large porcelain-faced expensive example, an eighteen-inch vinyl version, or a mini model. In addition the eight shelves lining the long room offer playthings from the Asi Collection (designed by Angela Simon) and a slew of Madame Alexander collector’s dolls, many decked out as fictional characters. Hansel and Gretel wear little lederhosen. The Wizard of Oz‘s Glinda the Good Witch gently wields her wand while her malevolent green-faced sister, the Wicked Witch of the West, fiercely rides her broom. Folks on a budget can pick up a book of paper dolls. And those who prefer stuffed animals over pretend people can choose from an assortment of terry-cloth-covered teddy bears, cows, and lambs. Shop Monday through Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. On Sunday the dolls get some shuteye.

Let’s say that one day the devil jumps down your throat when you are caught with your mouth open, and from then on you are worse than miserable with bad luck and grief. You may be haunted, the victim of a spell. You may never know who is responsible. But let’s say the only thing that will get you back on the upside of life is a one-ounce bottle of Go-Away Evil. Or in Spanish, Rompe Brujería. Marie Talia Noel has got it, at the reasonable price of three dollars. It is rose-colored, scented, and just before bedtime you can splash it on and then sleep while the demon flees. But let’s say the Go-Away Evil is too weak and you remain in Beelzebub’s grip. What to do then? At the number above, contact Papa Paul, a certified voodoo priest, who can mix up a custom elixir just for you.

Need we say mas?

The marketing-recycling phenomenon began in Minnesota in the Eighties with Once Upon a Child, the notion that kids outgrow their clothes, toys, and furniture so fast it’s nuts to just keep buying new, then spread to sports (Play It Again), and lately to the electronic-communications frontier with places like Computer Renaissance. Out in Kendall Irv Richter has been doing bang-up volume on Wilson outfielders’ gloves and Rawlings catchers’ mitts ($7, $12, $30, depending on condition); exercise benches that go for hundreds at new retail but which he can move for $30; treadmills retailing at Sports Authority for $1800 to $2400 pricing out at $250; and home gyms that sell for $1500 to $3000 new going for between $200 and $600. “The average kid plays different sports in different stages,” Richter explains, “and if you’re a young mom or dad you might be buying for yourself too.” If you can buy good merchandise at half or two-thirds off, what’s the point of being snobby about “brand-new” status? Play It Again Sports will even let you give yourself discounts on trade-ins or tradeups, or selling on consignment. Even when the economy rights itself and bin Laden is just a memory, you may never want to return to Bal Harbour to shop again.

So your party is a hit. Somehow your pad is full of cool strangers who are mingling loudly around the keg of Pabst. As you approach the center you hear some chick bitching about the soggy suds being spit from the tap. Some geek is trying to impress her by dipping the spout below the canister. Although he insists he can muster up some cerveza, you know the cool brew will soon be gone. It’s too late and you’re much too drunk for a beer run, and letting the party sputter out will only kill your newly attained social standing. What to do? On Call Beer Express can save your sorry butt. They work the right hours (3:00 p.m. till 3:00 a.m. Sunday through Thursday, and till 5:00 a.m. Friday and Saturday), and they stay sober so they can make door-to-door deliveries of all types of domestic and imported beers, plastic cups, cigarettes, and other party essentials all over Miami. The On Call guys also serve couch potatoes too lazy to make a beer run during prime time. They will gladly deliver the minimum order, a twelve-pack, to your front door.

They claim to be the largest adult bookstore in the entire U.S. of A. True? Who knows? Who cares? Size doesn’t matter, right? This clean, well-lighted place for porn and sex toys, conveniently located near State Road 112 and busy 27th Avenue, has everything a sexy beast might need, from Astroglide to poppers to lingerie to dildos to anatomically correct lollipops. The store’s array of new and well-kept video booths affords privacy to those customers who lack VHS equipment or who simply may not wish to bring home X-rated material. An added plus: The Playground shares parking lots with a Burger King and a check-cashing store, which provides discreet cover for those who are still shy about patronizing such places, even though it’s perfectly legal.

Lurking behind a Miami Subs and a bikini shop on an awkward corner beneath the 163rd Street overpass, Moscow Video is a curious catch-all shop of videos, CDs, cassettes, Russian newspapers, and small, ornately decorated wooden boxes. Besides the Russian-language flicks you can enjoy the sublime pleasure of Eddie Murphy’s comic masterpieces as translated into the mother tongue. But the most entertaining thing is just to linger in the aisles, casting furtive glances at the people renting the movies or getting their passport photos taken in the next room. Businessman? Housewife? Red Mafiya? Soak it up and speculate all you want.

“I knew you’d be back,” says Stephane Amar with a satisfied smile. A few hours earlier you had stopped in at his shop on Washington Avenue searching for a new suit. His racks featured several sweet-looking suits from Europe. The fit could not be topped and the price was too low to believe. You were prudent, though. You said you wanted to shop around. But after a tour of every other boutique and shop on South Beach, you most definitely returned to La Squadra and to Amar, who was waiting. “You can’t beat the price on a suit of this quality,” he murmurs. “I knew I’d see you again.” La Squadra is a small shop, run by Amar and his partner. The selection is not terribly vast, but the clothes they feature, for both men and women, are high quality and very stylish. After you try on the suit again, Amar offers up a Prada shirt, a Gucci tie, and a pair of square-toed dress shoes. But it doesn’t feel as though he’s piling on. He’s not pushing. The accessories just happen to work perfectly. And their price, collectively, is as reasonable as the suit. You take the whole package, but not before Amar takes a call from his grandmother in his native Montreal. “Yes, I love you too,” he says in French. You feel like joining in. Amar’s a lovable guy. His shop is a lovely shop.

This small storefront boutique d’yesterjour, located near the Orange Bowl, features the usual thrift-store goodies like books, records, kitchenware, appliances, and furniture. But the best reason to go there is the clothing: men’s and women’s suits, shirts, jackets, jeans, and shoes, a lot of it in almost-new condition. Prices are cheap, the ladies who run the place will let you haggle with them, and the proceeds go to a good cause.

There’s a reason we keep naming this store numero uno among soccer outlets. In a word it’s service. Oh yeah, and the selection is pretty good too. The first-time futbol mom, facing a daunting array of supplies, can take comfort in the patient explanations on the relative merits of the Diadora line of balls and cleats and gloves and shin guards, versus Filas, Adidas, or the half-dozen other major sports outfitters. For those early planners hoping to cash in on junior’s field prowess, this is the place to pick up that replica jersey to wrap your first-born in, channeling Pele or Maradona. Store hours are 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. Monday through Friday and 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. on Saturday. Sundays they are open until 5:00 p.m.

A cameo to nestle in your cleavage. Rhinestones to ring your fingers. Austrian crystals to drape around your neck. No matter what manner of costume jewelry you seek, you’ll most likely find it at this vintage shop, where numerous cases house quality watches, fobs, brooches, chains, chokers, and the like. An added advantage: Since C. Madeleine’s accepts items on consignment (by appointment only), you can trade in those pieces that no longer tickle your fancy for some trinkets that do. Chances are you’ll discover that one item you’ve always wished your great-grandmother had the good taste to wear — and the good sense to pass down to you.

Rudy Rodolfo opened his South Beach Cigar Factory five years ago, during the height of the cigar boom, at 1136 Collins Avenue in a charming storefront that looked like a walk-in mom-and-pop joint, only hip. At the time Anglo cigar bars were proliferating all over Miami, but particularly in South Beach, always Trend Central, with guys and girls in off-white, raw-silk suits puffing big, locally made, Cuban-seed Bolivars, Monte Cristos, or Cohibas, the kinds of cigars Fidel and Che, Raul and Arnold smoked back in the day. Well, the boom went bust, especially after September 11, and most Miami bars stopped smoking. But Cuba Habanos USA thrived at its other shop in Fort Lauderdale (3114 E. Sunrise Boulevard, 954-537-3386), and is about to open a new location in South Beach. Meanwhile let manager Mary Morejon recommend her specials: the Cuba 1800 Churchill for $6.58 per; the Cuba Habano at $4.50; the Monte Cristo #2 at $12, and the wonderful Romeo and Julieta #3, a 5-inch, 50-ring robusto, at $10. They’re worth a ride to the factory near Miami International Airport.

This is junkyard heaven, the place where cool, funky things go to die or to be bought or rented as the case may be. Chandeliers and traffic lights hang from the ceiling while stained-glass windows, Coca-Cola vending machines, marble busts, golf clubs, and bookshelves line the walls. Looking for a life-size bronze boar sculpture with green patina? It’s here. A vintage, Jetsons-style Philco Predicta television set from the Fifties? Yep, right over there. A giant Head and Shoulders shampoo display bottle? Check the back. Old gas station signs, telephones, typewriters? Got ’em. Don’t know what you’re looking for? Give yourself at least an hour to walk through this Smithsonian-scale emporium. If you feel yourself getting tired, plop yourself down in that row of movie-theater seats over by the door.

If Laurenzo’s were nothing more than the area’s best Italian market (and most people say it is), it would still be worth writing about. But the 50-year-old institution is so much more: a slice of Little Italy in Miami-Dade County, an oasis of Old World charm, a portal onto the past. Laurenzo’s isn’t just a store. It’s a milieu. And it comes with its own soundtrack, piped in direct from the Fifties and featuring a couple of Italian crooners you may have heard before. Where else can you get “Volare” with your veal? “Memories Are Made of This” with your mozzarella? “Sway” with your spaghetti? Ah, Laurenzo’s. “That’s Amore!”

“From the womb to the tomb and all moments in between.” Those are the appropriate times for flowers and plants, according to the ebullient Jenny Kallert, who has run her famous flower shop since 1973. With the fastidious zip of a German-accented bee in pollination mode, she works in her environs making “creations,” not mere arrangements. To Jenny, who in 1959 escaped communist East Germany with her family (all of whom were also florists), flowers are not just luxuries to be appreciated on special occasions. They are necessities, as vital to life as air, food, and water. She keeps things intimate by customizing each piece and working only with independently owned greenhouses instead of large-scale flower growers; Jenny’s stock includes a variety of tulips, azaleas, orchids, and roses not normally sold at your everyday FTD stand.

Broward has Bob’s and we have Worldwide. That’s the best way to explain this store’s perennial lock on this category. If you’re looking for an obscure magazine or an out-of-town newspaper, this is where you must come. And if Worldwide doesn’t have it, you’re out of luck, bub. Regardless of what you were searching for initially, it’s hard to imagine leaving Worldwide empty-handed. Several well-organized aisles offer up everything from the Observer (both London’s and New York City’s) to more colorful publications such as Paranoia! and Bitch. Best of all is an owner who is not only familiar with virtually every title in his store but the precise day of the week they’re set to arrive. Never again will you miss an issue of Asian Cult Cinema.

A cameo to nestle in your cleavage. Rhinestones to ring your fingers. Austrian crystals to drape around your neck. No matter what manner of costume jewelry you seek, you’ll most likely find it at this vintage shop, where numerous cases house quality watches, fobs, brooches, chains, chokers, and the like. An added advantage: Since C. Madeleine’s accepts items on consignment (by appointment only), you can trade in those pieces that no longer tickle your fancy for some trinkets that do. Chances are you’ll discover that one item you’ve always wished your great-grandmother had the good taste to wear — and the good sense to pass down to you.

When the vindaloo you’ve eaten in restaurants just won’t do, it’s time to try making it yourself. The perfect place to stock up on supplies is Bombay Super Bazaar. This small market boasts a bounty of ingredients destined for innumerable Indian dishes from every region. Packed in bags of various sizes: every spice known to man (including elusive cardamom pods), chickpeas, lentils, assorted legumes, and fragrant basmati rice. A freezer holds meats and filled breads. Bunches of aromatic fresh herbs are available too. And for those less inclined to create things from scratch, shelves display a slew of sauces, soups, pastes, and chutneys that can be mixed with all sorts of elements for a quick meal.

An unofficial survey indicates many Miamians (well, at least three or four) do not buy anything, except groceries, anywhere but this flea market. Why run around to different malls and spend more, they reason, when on any given Sunday afternoon they can take Mom and the kids out to the pulguero (that’s what the thrifty souls in the survey call it — Spanish, you know, the preferred language of the majority of the sellers and clientele), plop down 50 cents to get in, a few more dollars for sodas or sno-cones, pick up the underwear or socks or mattress or kitchen table they need, and make a nice outing of it. A little extra change and you’ve got a stuffed bear that dances to merengue and a stunning pair of green plastic five-inch platform sandals. For today’s busy American, this is where you get more for your dollar and your time!

We trolled bowling-alley parking lots, video arcades, tattoo parlors, and public handicap ramps to survey skate rats about the best shop in town. Whether it was in Kendall, Westchester, or Aventura, the overwhelming favorite was Fritz’s. This Lincoln Road storefront distinguishes itself by not only being the coolest place to assemble a new skateboard, but the friendly staff is knowledgeable enough to hook you up with the best trucks, king pins, and baddest-looking deck around. The fact that Fritz’s has been on Lincoln Road for more than half a decade is testament enough to its popularity. Many of the independent boutiques that once dotted the mall folded as rents skyrocketed. So skate on over. It’s still not a crime to Rollerblade on wannabe-tony Lincoln Road. But skateboarders beware: You’re likely to be busted.

Zoom by too fast on Biscayne Boulevard and you might mistake Morningside Antiques for a small house. And it certainly was once upon a time. Now it’s an intimate antique mall featuring a series of rooms that act as booths run by different dealers. Wander through leisurely and you’re sure to come upon treasures: tasteful midcentury modern marvels that seem as if they were dropped here from outer space, prim and proper Victoriana, swanky Art Deco delights, rustic French provincial furniture and decorative arts, swinging Sixties and Seventies lamps and the like, tiny silver spoons, un-PC Black Americana, colorful printed linens, and sparkling trinkets galore. So what if the Baroque mahogany rocking chair you bought looks a little odd with the boomerang Formica coffee table in your living room? Tell the friends about to commit you that your style is eclectic — not schizophrenic.

If you’re looking for a stark example of the difference between a corporate giant and a locally owned emporium, just mosey through the carefully stocked aisles of New Concept Video, which serves up practically everything its surrounding community is after: imported fashion magazines, of-the-moment dance-music CDs, and of course an array of offbeat titles — both new and old, foreign and homegrown. What really makes New Concept shine, however, isn’t just the presence of recent highly touted indie flicks that never graced Miami’s theaters (Lisa Picard is Famous, Wet Hot American Summer, George Washington, the list sadly goes on), but a redefinition of that very phrase “blockbuster.” Don’t have Showtime? Still curious about that cable channel’s gay telenovela Queer As Folk and its resultant buzz? Forget about hitting your nearest Blockbuster. That chain’s Miami outlets dithered for more than two months before finally overcoming prudish moral concerns and deciding to stock tapes of the series’ episodes. As for other “controversial” films, such as Bad Lieutenant, Blockbuster demands its very own customized edit before it’ll deign to carry the picture. Over at New Concept, however, from its first day of release there was an entire wall of Queer As Folk (on both VHS and DVD), ensuring the type of “always available” rental status that this store’s rivals only extend to more hackneyed displays of male bonding such as Pearl Harbor. We’ll stick with the shop that keeps its priorities, ahem, straight.

In the Bird-Ludlam Shopping Center there are three places to get your nails done, but only one salon will do if you want a seven-dollar manicure and more chisme (gossip) than you can possibly process. While your cuticles are being pushed back and the polish is being applied, you’ll hear about what happened this week in the Mexican telenovelas, reviews of Enrique Iglesias’s newest release, and why the latest fatal disease to strike Fidel Castro means that for el tirano the end is surely near. Knowledge of Spanish is a help, but the dish comes in English too.

The topiaries perched on the fence posts give you a clue about what you’ll discover at this family-run nursery. The eager assistance, available as soon as you open your car door, will soothe any confusion you may experience gazing upon the tangle of vegetation in front of you. And the landscaping know-how will allow you to select the best ground cover, flowering bushes, ficus hedges, and climbing vines for your home. But sometimes it’s all about the veggies. That’s what endears us to Cornell’s. This Eden stocks the best garden starters around, from beefsteak seedlings to Scotch bonnet peppers already in bloom. Some of the items, including baby mixed greens and flowering purple cabbages, come up from Lovell Farms down south, but others are nurtured in the nursery simply because the proprietors love to experiment. That means when you’re ready to plant your plot in the early spring, you can buy the notoriously slow-to-grow garlic and leeks already well established. It also means you can get some produce plants you may not be able to find at Wal-Mart or Home Depot. Whether you’re looking for lemongrass or lemon-yellow tomatoes, you have a better chance at Cornell’s, where the owners are also students of home agriculture.

You’ve got the family, the job, the little plot of land. What’s missing from your idyllic life? Oh, right. The folks from whom you bought your house had thumbs about as green as the sky. You need trees, and since you live in Miami you figure they might as well bear fruit and save you some bucks in the end. Not that they cost that much to begin with, if you buy them young and do so at Clinica de las Plantas. “Florida Master gardener” Jesus A. Ramos stocks a large supply of subtropical saplings in this nursery. Don’t be fooled by the flowers in front; make your way to the back. There you’ll find sapodilla, mamey, guayaba (guava), lychee, and longan trees. In the market for mangoes? You can find at least five different varieties here, including the ever-popular Haden, football-size Keitt, juicy Edward, sun-yellow Carrie, fiberless Beverly, and top-notch Nom Dac Mai. Bargain-hunting for bananas? Buy them if you see them — these are the Clinica’s biggest sellers and Ramos is often out. Trees range from $29.95 to $39.95, depending on size, and the staff will assist you in choosing the nicest specimens and then carry them to your car for you. In fact, the only thing they won’t do is help you plant them at home. But that’s okay. Nothing’s more satisfying than knowing the fruit of your labors is yours alone.

This is the place for those who want to scope out their funnybooks and still feel like a grownup. The Archie/Pokémon/Disney presence is relatively low-key. Cutesy card games and movie tie-in toys clearly aren’t this previous “Best of Miami” winner’s reason for existing. Instead the haphazardly stacked selections feature everything from Marvel to Oni Press, plus a good variety of gaming materials and Japanimation. It can be a little tough to find that one specific title in this tiny space, but the friendly folks behind the counter will be happy to get it for you.

You’re a generous person with a heart for gift-giving, but you’re a lousy shopper without an ounce of creativity. Every Mother’s Day you do five laps around the mall looking for the perfect gift, only to end up empty-handed, bitter, and with sore feet. Wearily you lick the envelope on yet another cheap greeting card and drop it in the mailbox — without a package — and wonder how you will ever break this cycle of gift-giving failure. Fear not, for there is a solution that will turn you into the hero of all holidays: Cookies by Design. Stop by any of three locations in Miami-Dade to check out their patented “Cookie Bouquet” gift concept: Freshly baked, oversize sugar cookies are playfully hand-decorated with vibrant colors and arranged in baskets to create a treat as lovely to look at as it is sweetly satisfying. Acknowledge any holiday, recognize any achievement, or express any emotion through a variety of theme baskets. They also have a line of Disney characters that any child would go nuts over. Finally it’s not even necessary to leave home to do your good deed. Orders can be placed online or by phone.

All the usual potions and talismans and statuettes and candles and flowers any good santero needs are here in the heart of Allapattah. On the exterior green walls of this building are painted colorful renditions of some of Latin America’s more popular Catholic saints, such as Caridad del Cobre and Niño de Antocha. If you and your Santería santo have a certain problem or situation requiring a particular herb or tincture or perfume, just tell the knowledgeable people who work here. They know what you need. They also stock a nice selection of melodiously crowing and cackling roosters and hens, just in case you’re looking for a back yard pet.

Guayaberas may now be ubiquitous, as familiar a sight in South Beach as in Little Havana, as popular with club-hopping twentysomethings as with potbellied old men. But there is still only one mago de la guayabera (guayabera magician): Ramon Puig, owner of La Casa de las Guayaberas, the famed Miami emporium. The Cuban-born Puig has been making guayaberas for more than 60 years. His client list has included Cuban President Carlos Prio as well as U.S. presidents Ronald Reagan, George Bush, and Bill Clinton. The man has stories, and he’ll gladly share them with anyone who wanders into his shop. But the guayaberas — gorgeous creations in a variety of fabrics and colors — are a different matter. Those he’ll charge you for.

If this dive shop is good enough for Flipper, most likely it will be good enough for you. The pros at Miami Seaquarium drive across the Rickenbacker Causeway regularly to get their tanks filled and equipment repaired by the guys at Bubbles. As a shop, they offer the latest gear from SeaQuest, Mares, and other top brands. As a dive school, the instructors offer open-water dive certification — a two-week course for $249 that includes at least four open-water dives. They also offer advanced courses and a first-aid course. The Bubbles crew even acts as travel agent, organizing dive trips to several hot spots, including Belize and Colombia. But if you don’t want to go that far, they offer Saturday reef dives and Sunday wreck dives as well as spooky night dives on Wednesdays.

Frankly the only tears we see flowing in here are ones of joy. No consumer in his or her right mind would even think of shedding one in sadness, given the plethora of goods you can peruse for your young one, ranging from cute little one-size outfits (with matching hats) for newborns to faux fur coats for your big, grown-up four-year-old. Think little boys can’t appreciate what Crybaby has to offer? We’ve got two words for you: train accessories. And just in case Mom’s feeling a little low, there are plenty of self-pampering opportunities as well. The store keeps a separate section for women who might appear mature — i.e., baby on hip — but who like to dress in hip junior fashions and who may occasionally venture outdoors without diaper bag and toddler in tow. Naturally the place is also great for buying that perfect shower gift.

In this current age of paranoia, which dates back at least ten years and which was heightened tremendously by September 11, well-heeled folks (Colombians and Venezuelans who can’t shake the creepy feeling they’re vulnerable and need extra zones of protection) are turning more and more to James Bond-style specialty shops to make themselves feel safer. How about a pair of wireless video-surveillance sunglasses to record every suspicious thing you see? Or how about a camera pen you can manipulate as you chat or that you use from across the street to record the presence of someone who might be up to something dire? Or a Predator G-3 Night Vision System you can wear in a rig like a goggled hardhat and that lets you see in pitch dark? Most of this stuff costs from $2000 to $4000, but some custom deals, like a car-bomb-prevention device that operates from the trunk of your vehicle, could be considerably more pricey. It is, however, guaranteed by Counterspy founder Benjamin Jamil, who makes Miami’s other spy stores look like gadgeterias.

This is a carefree, open-air oasis with buckets of cut flowers and bins of produce at your fingertips as you stroll along the sociable Calle Ocho sidewalk. Coco frio is said to be the specialty here, and there’s something naturally wonderful about grabbing a freshly slashed coconut and sucking down the sweet juice. The rest of the juices and batidos are just as fresh, tasty, and invigorating. Highly recommended: mamey and mango batidos.

It’s only a year old but already the Dolphin Mall has its devoted fanatics. One of the appeals is variety: more than 200 stores running the gamut from low-end to high, from Burlington Coat Factory to Bebe. There are also outlets (Off 5th, Bombay), offbeat gift stores (Exotic Treasures), and standard mall fare (Old Navy). The outdoor area invites you to lounge in the sun with a smoothie in hand. The indoor-minded can play Skee-Ball at Dave & Buster’s, sip a café mocha at Borders, or watch would-be rock gods strum guitars at Mars. Clearly this mall wants you to sit down and stay awhile — then get back up and shop till you drop.

Given the pedigree of the husband-and-wife owners — 34-year-old Jeffrey Wolfe was formerly general manager of Norman’s restaurant, and 29-year-old Christie was marketing manager for Augustan Wine Imports — we had a suspicion this place would stock some pretty eclectic bottles gleaned from family-run wineries like Napa’s Livingston Moffett Winery and Sonoma Valley’s Frank Johnson Vineyards. We also kind of thought, since they’d originally wanted to open a café/wine bar along with the retail store, that the Wolfes would be holding tastings, featuring rebels like David Ramey of Ramey Vineyards in Carneros. But who would have imagined the place would be so darn cute, the wine stored in “lockers” rather than formal racks, or that the shop’s décor would be more suitable to filming an MTV video than catering to stuffy enophiles? Who would have guessed that many of the tastings, at ten dollars per ticket, include a take-home wine glass courtesy of Spiegelau? And who would’ve believed that the Wolfes would take a bite out of the cost of collecting wines by pricing many of the niche bottles under $30 and providing a computer kiosk with a CD burner so you can save info about the wines you’re enjoying? Well, we did, of course. And now you will too.

The pleasure of shopping at the Shores Publix begins outside, in the ample parking lot, where an empty space can usually be found with relatively little effort (if the lot is full, just take the ramp to the rooftop parking deck; an elevator will bring you to ground level). Before you go in, though, stand back and admire the architecture: the decorative tropical shutters, the arched doorways, the covered walkway illuminated by large, industrial-style lanterns. Once inside, you’ll discover what the exterior only hints at: This isn’t so much a supermarket as it is a village shopping district, one with its own bakery; apothecary; flower shop; produce, meat, and fish markets; and wine shop. The floral center has bouquets, plants, and even garden sculptures for sale. The bakery section, likewise, is large enough to be considered its own separate shop, filling that end of the store with the divine smell of freshly baked goods. And everywhere there is activity. At the seafood market a sushi chef busily works at his station. Produce clerks constantly replenish the supply of fresh fruits and vegetables. Can’t find something among the luxuriously wide aisles? There’s always someone you can ask. And if you can’t find something, you really should ask because chances are they carry it. The strength of this shoppers’ paradise is selection, from its wide assortment of ethnic foods (including an extensive array of West Indian goodies) to health foods to its glorious wine section: three aisles and two entire walls of fermented grape juice, from $4 to $50 per bottle. No wonder Upper Eastside regulars commonly refer to this place as Mecca.

On Sundays, when everyone is off work, this grocery store looks like the site of a fiesta. In aisles festooned with all-occasion piñatas, shoppers — many with kids in tow — load carts with provisions for the week ahead. A lot of socializing takes place here. And eating, too. There is a nacho kiosk by the front door, and back in the corner an in-house tortillería. Few can resist slipping a still-warm tortilla from the bag, adding a dollop of salsa, and savoring a taste of home right there by the economy-size bags of rice and beans. On the shelves: chilies, various types of mole, cases of Tamarindo soda, and an esoteric selection of herbs, including cola caballo (literally “horse’s tail,” or shave grass), used to make a tea said to cure kidney problems.

At Tenth Street near downtown Miami, Daddy’s is presided over by Herman (“Dat’s the only name you need!”), a guy who’ll purchase your wristwatches (“Rolex is still da best”), AK-47s (“Dat’s a lotta money — I can’t quote ya a price ’cause prices vary, ya unnerstand?”), or Sony 30-inch TVs (“Couple hundred if it’s good, ya unnerstand?”). The weapons display at Daddy’s is awesome. Just inside the door are hung M-16s, Glocks large and small, .45s, “nines” (nine millimeters), and little ladylike pearl-handled derringers. All are secured and all have their firing pins removed for safety, but Herman gets nervous at their propinquity: “Hey, this ain’t just a gunshop! Look at these Dell laptops!” And there’s a big electronic bolt that lets you in and out of Daddy’s. “Write dis: ‘Smooth. Fair prices. No bullshit,’ unnerstand?” Nine until late.

At this small, unassuming store on the northern fringes of Little Havana, dancers can purchase everything they need to dress up their routine. Danskin unitards that normally sell for $50 or $60 can be had here for little more than $20. On our last visit we came across the most inexpensive pair of jazz boots we’ve ever seen. The selection is broad enough to include both jingle and straight taps, not to mention every type of tight, even up to the impossible-to-find plus sizes. And although StarStyled is an independent store unaffiliated with any chain (which is nice), it’s still established enough to sell the Capezio brand (which is even nicer).

Maybe Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue is playing when you walk in. Maybe you spot on the newsstand a literary magazine you’ve never heard of — Tin House, for example. Maybe when you’re inside the store, slowly looking over the new books displayed on tables and the older stock arrayed on dark-wood shelves that reach far overhead, something reminds you of a long-ago favorite. Maybe it’s John Updike’s Rabbit, Run. Maybe at that moment a bookstore employee walks by, and you ask about the book, and she says, “Yes, right over here.” And maybe, seconds later, she hands you a recent Ballantine Books trade paperback edition, and it is cool to the touch. Maybe you then decide to buy a cup of coffee at the in-store café and walk out into the courtyard to sit at a table under a palm. “Boys are playing basketball around a telephone pole with a backboard bolted to it. Legs, shouts,” you read. Maybe right then you appreciate how fortunate you are.

I could see this dame was trouble the minute I laid eyes on her. A tough-looking blonde with a hard smile and a bagful of sideways glances. Yeah, I knew better than to ask her for help. So I just browsed the aisles and bided my time. They were all there, 8000 sordid little stories of greed, lust, and dead bodies. The cocky bastards had even left their bloody handprints on the back wall, signing their names, just asking to get caught.

Here is a real find for political-science junkies interested in Latin America. Tucked into a strip mall across from Tropical Park, this Colombian-owned store specializes in a collection of books that concentrates on social upheaval throughout the Americas. Since 1989 its owners, Eduardo and Norma Duran, have imported the latest and most important Latin literature directly from South American publishing houses. Their collection includes titles not normally found in Miami’s Latin bookstores. For example, Eduardo says he’s proud to carry books and journals written from every side of the conflict in his home country. As a result the shop has become a haunt for academics and curious readers of all nationalities. While the book collection also includes translations of self-help, science-fiction, metaphysics, and best-sellers, the place does live up to its name: magazines and newspapers. The Durans offer hard-to-find copies of Central and South American papers like Argentina’s El Clarín and Colombia’s El Tiempo and El Espectador. Libreria’s popularity among Westchester Latinos could be indicative of Miami’s shifting populations: Ever-increasing numbers of Colombianos, Peruanos, Argentinos, and Chilenos are walking through the door.

The word “records” is a bit of a misnomer these days, given that Blue Note owner Bob Perry has transferred the bulk of his store’s vinyl to a separate jazz annex a few blocks away. But despite that additional schlep now required for those still, ahem, possessing needles and in need of a twelve-inch fix, Blue Note remains the best one-stop shop in Miami for folks whose tastes run deeper than the narrow offerings served up on the radio. Indeed it’s that very focus on the offbeat, the forgotten classic, and the current avant-garde that keeps hip-hop fans, indie rockers, gospel lovers, Philly soul aficionados, and Latin boogaloo freaks alike all poring through Blue Note’s aisles. Best of all, if you can sing a verse of it — no matter how off key — the helpful staff here will do their best to track it down, and they’ll even be courteous enough to wait until you leave before commenting on how you managed to redefine the words tone deaf. Now that’s service worth saluting.

Looking for that old Bola de Nieve bolero your abuelo used to sing? Itching for a copy of that Pablo Neruda poem set to music by Aterciopelados but you can’t remember what it’s called? Eager to hear the latest releases from Cuba, Brazil, Colombia, or Spain? Has collecting round discs etched with music gone beyond being your hobby to becoming an obsession? Get thee to the Museo del Disco, the Latin music superstore opened last year by long-time distributor Hinsul Lazo. With a softly carpeted showroom that houses rack upon rack of records categorized by genre, national origin, and in some cases even record label, the Museo is indeed like a museum. But don’t be fooled; Lazo’s experience in distribution has led him to build up a state-of-the-art search engine that can find in an instant whatever you’re hankering for. And if it’s not in the store, the folks at Museo will get it for you. Now, how did that old Gran Combo chorus go again?

As those wise men of dance culture, the Village People, once opined, “You can’t stop the music.” That’s definitely the motto over at Uncle Sam’s, which took this award last year and deserves it again in 2002. Why? Because a never-ending supply of used CDs keeps turning over, rewarding a weekly stop whether you’re seeking the latest beats from clubland, tomorrow’s altrock heroes, or that elusive Neil Diamond collection. Even better are the listening stations, allowing you to actually hear that act you just read about but aren’t quite ready to invest with $7.98.

This diminutive storefront looks unremarkable from the outside. You might even miss it if you’re not paying attention. But on the inside, where every available square inch is taken up by clothes, jewelry, and accessories, it’s pretty darn amazing. Twice As Nice is all secondhand merchandise, but much of it has barely or never been touched. These aren’t thrift-store clothes. Sexy evening gowns, workout apparel, business wear, jeans and tops — all the latest fashions in perfect condition. And all priced to sell fast. They must move the inventory quickly. Otherwise you’d never be able to get through the door.

Let us ask you something. Are you gonna buy the ten-inch Jeff Stryker molded-plastic cock from just any purveyor of the prurient, or are you going to buy it from the little neighborhood porn shop that’s been helping Miami get off for more than 30 years? That’s what we thought. Actually the Pussycat is one of four stores owned by Ed Sharpe — in New York, Miami, and Fort Lauderdale. The Greenwich Village Pink Pussycat also has a storied three-decade history, with officials comparing it favorably with the seedier porn shops that once choked Times Square. Same story in Miami, with city officials raising their hackles only a few times in 30 years. As in 1998, when city inspectors tried to tell the Pink Pussycat it couldn’t sell the adult novelty items it had been selling for 25 years. “What is Coconut Grove without a Pink Pussycat?” Sharpe asked at the time. “It’s the flavor of the Grove. It’s not adult books with peep-show machines. It’s a quaint little adult toy store.” The Pussycat is primarily geared toward women, featuring an array of dildos, vibrators, tickling panties, videos, and naughty chocolates. But there is something for everyone, such as novelty items like inflatable sheep and fun buttons that say things like: “Is my dick too long for this dress?” For the control-freak man in your life, the store offers a vibrator with a recorder that will capture up to ten seconds of your one and only screaming, “Who’s your daddy!”

One of the best one-stop shopping concepts in town. Both Best Time locations offer a pretty extensive selection of cheap to moderately priced wines (seven to sixteen bucks) as well as a counter for Cuban coffee and sandwiches. The perfect place to grab a bottle for that unexpected dinner party and refuel for the long night ahead with a shot of high-octane espresso. Coffee and wine. Why didn’t we think of that?

Remember all those times in college you told your parents you had been at the library studying when you actually had been out drinking? You weren’t lying. You were just anticipating this place. Crown isn’t just a liquor and wine shop; it’s the ivory tower of vino, Wine U., an institute of higher fermentation. To go along with its stunning assortment of beer, wine, and liquor — and gourmet cheeses, and fine chocolates, and premium salsas and chips and dips — Crown has as knowledgeable a staff as you’re likely to find outside the Ivy League. Sure there’s Chip Cassidy, Crown’s wine director (who really is a college professor, regularly lecturing on wine technology at Florida International University’s School of Hospitality Management), but most everyone who works there knows the stuff. Take, for example, Fred Barger at the North Miami location. “There’s a real interesting history behind Krug champagne,” he recently explained while ringing up a bottle of it for a customer. “During World War II, the elder Krug [who was French] convinced the occupying German forces that the complete stock of champagne they were looking at had already been sold. Why that would keep the Germans from confiscating it, I don’t know, but he printed up counterfeit receipts for all of it. Consequently there are still a couple of bottles left of Krug 1925, 1926.” Pause. “Is that all today?” Drop in even if you’re not short on wine. You could learn something.

Ay, Mami! When Tio took us to see the trucos, I got too scared! There’s this big witch’s head when you walk in the door, and it’s so ugly! I told Tio I had to go back to the car but he just laughed at me. Then you go in and they have all these body parts you can put on and look really scary, and then there’s these mummy sort of masks where you look like you’ve been buried for a long time. Then Tio throws a humongous cucaracha at me and I almost died! Except it was just plastic. They have so many things made out of plastic but they look totally real. You can put this mouth on over your mouth with rotten teeth and shriveled-up lips. Well, finally this lady showed me how I could dress up like a princess with a crown and sparkly shoes and a beautiful dress, and even a wig, so I wasn’t very nervous anymore. But Tio kept scaring me and making me look at witches and monsters and yucky things like piles of caca, but they weren’t real, and he told me I had to go back there every day. Mami, don’t let him get me!

Warning! If you own a PC, this is not for you. But if you own an Apple, consider yourself in heaven. When your maniac Mac goes totally bozo, which scenario would you prefer: 1) While you try to explain the problem to some SuperduperSlickStore front-desk person who’s basically a receptionist, your sick computer is whisked into a back room from which, weeks later, it emerges allegedly but not usually fixed, and with the repair largely unexplained. Or 2) Within minutes of the patient being carried into the store, a friendly techie has it apart in front of your anxious eyes, analyzing, explaining, and often (if parts are right there and you’re desperate) repairing the problem on the spot. Normally repairs at Computer Village take only days, and involve none of the “facilitated service” megaprices the big boys often charge to just diagnose, not fix, your computer in less time than it takes your business to slip into bankruptcy. Everything is explained, including helpful hints about what to try if the patient relapses at midnight when the shop is closed. Prices are reasonable. Repairs of repairs, if necessary, are fast and free. In short you’re treated like a person, not a machine. Reason enough to patronize this admittedly frumpy little shop.

Rudy Rodolfo opened his South Beach Cigar Factory five years ago, during the height of the cigar boom, at 1136 Collins Avenue in a charming storefront that looked like a walk-in mom-and-pop joint, only hip. At the time Anglo cigar bars were proliferating all over Miami, but particularly in South Beach, always Trend Central, with guys and girls in off-white, raw-silk suits puffing big, locally made, Cuban-seed Bolivars, Monte Cristos, or Cohibas, the kinds of cigars Fidel and Che, Raul and Arnold smoked back in the day. Well, the boom went bust, especially after September 11, and most Miami bars stopped smoking. But Cuba Habanos USA thrived at its other shop in Fort Lauderdale (3114 E. Sunrise Boulevard, 954-537-3386), and is about to open a new location in South Beach. Meanwhile let manager Mary Morejon recommend her specials: the Cuba 1800 Churchill for $6.58 per; the Cuba Habano at $4.50; the Monte Cristo #2 at $12, and the wonderful Romeo and Julieta #3, a 5-inch, 50-ring robusto, at $10. They’re worth a ride to the factory near Miami International Airport.

Back in 1981, when Owen Lee and his wife Joan took a gamble on a business opportunity by purchasing a bicycle shop, it seemed a relatively straightforward enterprise. Inventory decisions were simple — a limited number of manufacturers produced a limited number of models. Mountain bikes were unknown outside an elite group of enthusiasts in northern California. Since then the cycling world has been revolutionized. The number of manufacturers has exploded, and they’re now producing numerous models, each available in a variety of sizes and colors. Lightweight aluminum frames have largely replaced heavy steel. Other technological advances, from shock absorbers to sophisticated shifting mechanisms, have transformed old fat-tire cruisers into sleek machines. Through it all the Lees, originally from Jamaica, have adapted and thrived. They’ve settled on Trek, Giant, and GT as their main brands, and stock numerous models of each. Volume purchasing allows them to lock in discounted prices. Three full-time mechanics means they can provide service seven days a week. They don’t employ high-pressure salespeople and they value their customers enough to offer a 60-day in-house warranty for any problem at no cost (flat tires excepted). The Lees, who sell an average of 100 bikes each month, keep their expansive shop open Monday through Saturday from 9:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. and Sundays from 11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.

Pressing your nose against the windows of the ritzy furniture stores in Coral Gables has to stop. You can’t afford what you stare at so longingly, and you’re smudging a lot of glass. Yeah, yeah, furniture is an investment, but in this case saving pennies isn’t an option. You just can’t bring yourself to purchase a loveseat that rivals the cost of your rent. What to do? Stay in the Gables and saunter down the street to Spasics, where you’ll find similarly stylish goods at significantly lower prices. That steel-and-glass adjustable Eileen Gray-designed side table you’ve lusted after for eons? A knock-off version here goes for $189, about $300 less than you’d pay for the “official” piece down the street. A black leather-and-steel tubing Le Corbusier-style chair that would command thousands elsewhere costs $895. Add to that an array of attractive and well-made bedroom and dining sets, living room furnishings, and an assortment of floor lamps (including a stainless steel torchère that seems to emit flames) hovering in the $140 range and you could be sitting, sleeping, eating, and seeing pretty sooner than you think. Those who know what they like but not how to put it together shouldn’t despair. Interior design and lighting services are available.

Dolls are toys too! A toy emporium doesn’t have to be packed with Pokémon, G.I. Joes, Beanie Babies, or remote-controlled cars. We’ll admit it may be a little creepy walking into this two-and-a-half-year-old store, which is wall-to-wall dolls, and being stared at by a thousand pairs of eyes. But we’re happy to report that one pair of peepers belongs to famous Spanish figure Mariquita Perez, a post-World War II favorite of many an affluent Latin girl. Mariquita, born in 1938 San Sebastian, Spain, sports a head full of long brown curls, big blue eyes, and a series of snazzy outfits and accessories — straw hats, sundresses, sailor suits, and the like. Outside of Spain she is only available here, in a large porcelain-faced expensive example, an eighteen-inch vinyl version, or a mini model. In addition the eight shelves lining the long room offer playthings from the Asi Collection (designed by Angela Simon) and a slew of Madame Alexander collector’s dolls, many decked out as fictional characters. Hansel and Gretel wear little lederhosen. The Wizard of Oz‘s Glinda the Good Witch gently wields her wand while her malevolent green-faced sister, the Wicked Witch of the West, fiercely rides her broom. Folks on a budget can pick up a book of paper dolls. And those who prefer stuffed animals over pretend people can choose from an assortment of terry-cloth-covered teddy bears, cows, and lambs. Shop Monday through Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. On Sunday the dolls get some shuteye.

Let’s say that one day the devil jumps down your throat when you are caught with your mouth open, and from then on you are worse than miserable with bad luck and grief. You may be haunted, the victim of a spell. You may never know who is responsible. But let’s say the only thing that will get you back on the upside of life is a one-ounce bottle of Go-Away Evil. Or in Spanish, Rompe Brujería. Marie Talia Noel has got it, at the reasonable price of three dollars. It is rose-colored, scented, and just before bedtime you can splash it on and then sleep while the demon flees. But let’s say the Go-Away Evil is too weak and you remain in Beelzebub’s grip. What to do then? At the number above, contact Papa Paul, a certified voodoo priest, who can mix up a custom elixir just for you.

Need we say mas?

The marketing-recycling phenomenon began in Minnesota in the Eighties with Once Upon a Child, the notion that kids outgrow their clothes, toys, and furniture so fast it’s nuts to just keep buying new, then spread to sports (Play It Again), and lately to the electronic-communications frontier with places like Computer Renaissance. Out in Kendall Irv Richter has been doing bang-up volume on Wilson outfielders’ gloves and Rawlings catchers’ mitts ($7, $12, $30, depending on condition); exercise benches that go for hundreds at new retail but which he can move for $30; treadmills retailing at Sports Authority for $1800 to $2400 pricing out at $250; and home gyms that sell for $1500 to $3000 new going for between $200 and $600. “The average kid plays different sports in different stages,” Richter explains, “and if you’re a young mom or dad you might be buying for yourself too.” If you can buy good merchandise at half or two-thirds off, what’s the point of being snobby about “brand-new” status? Play It Again Sports will even let you give yourself discounts on trade-ins or tradeups, or selling on consignment. Even when the economy rights itself and bin Laden is just a memory, you may never want to return to Bal Harbour to shop again.

So your party is a hit. Somehow your pad is full of cool strangers who are mingling loudly around the keg of Pabst. As you approach the center you hear some chick bitching about the soggy suds being spit from the tap. Some geek is trying to impress her by dipping the spout below the canister. Although he insists he can muster up some cerveza, you know the cool brew will soon be gone. It’s too late and you’re much too drunk for a beer run, and letting the party sputter out will only kill your newly attained social standing. What to do? On Call Beer Express can save your sorry butt. They work the right hours (3:00 p.m. till 3:00 a.m. Sunday through Thursday, and till 5:00 a.m. Friday and Saturday), and they stay sober so they can make door-to-door deliveries of all types of domestic and imported beers, plastic cups, cigarettes, and other party essentials all over Miami. The On Call guys also serve couch potatoes too lazy to make a beer run during prime time. They will gladly deliver the minimum order, a twelve-pack, to your front door.

They claim to be the largest adult bookstore in the entire U.S. of A. True? Who knows? Who cares? Size doesn’t matter, right? This clean, well-lighted place for porn and sex toys, conveniently located near State Road 112 and busy 27th Avenue, has everything a sexy beast might need, from Astroglide to poppers to lingerie to dildos to anatomically correct lollipops. The store’s array of new and well-kept video booths affords privacy to those customers who lack VHS equipment or who simply may not wish to bring home X-rated material. An added plus: The Playground shares parking lots with a Burger King and a check-cashing store, which provides discreet cover for those who are still shy about patronizing such places, even though it’s perfectly legal.

Lurking behind a Miami Subs and a bikini shop on an awkward corner beneath the 163rd Street overpass, Moscow Video is a curious catch-all shop of videos, CDs, cassettes, Russian newspapers, and small, ornately decorated wooden boxes. Besides the Russian-language flicks you can enjoy the sublime pleasure of Eddie Murphy’s comic masterpieces as translated into the mother tongue. But the most entertaining thing is just to linger in the aisles, casting furtive glances at the people renting the movies or getting their passport photos taken in the next room. Businessman? Housewife? Red Mafiya? Soak it up and speculate all you want.

“I knew you’d be back,” says Stephane Amar with a satisfied smile. A few hours earlier you had stopped in at his shop on Washington Avenue searching for a new suit. His racks featured several sweet-looking suits from Europe. The fit could not be topped and the price was too low to believe. You were prudent, though. You said you wanted to shop around. But after a tour of every other boutique and shop on South Beach, you most definitely returned to La Squadra and to Amar, who was waiting. “You can’t beat the price on a suit of this quality,” he murmurs. “I knew I’d see you again.” La Squadra is a small shop, run by Amar and his partner. The selection is not terribly vast, but the clothes they feature, for both men and women, are high quality and very stylish. After you try on the suit again, Amar offers up a Prada shirt, a Gucci tie, and a pair of square-toed dress shoes. But it doesn’t feel as though he’s piling on. He’s not pushing. The accessories just happen to work perfectly. And their price, collectively, is as reasonable as the suit. You take the whole package, but not before Amar takes a call from his grandmother in his native Montreal. “Yes, I love you too,” he says in French. You feel like joining in. Amar’s a lovable guy. His shop is a lovely shop.

This small storefront boutique d’yesterjour, located near the Orange Bowl, features the usual thrift-store goodies like books, records, kitchenware, appliances, and furniture. But the best reason to go there is the clothing: men’s and women’s suits, shirts, jackets, jeans, and shoes, a lot of it in almost-new condition. Prices are cheap, the ladies who run the place will let you haggle with them, and the proceeds go to a good cause.

There’s a reason we keep naming this store numero uno among soccer outlets. In a word it’s service. Oh yeah, and the selection is pretty good too. The first-time futbol mom, facing a daunting array of supplies, can take comfort in the patient explanations on the relative merits of the Diadora line of balls and cleats and gloves and shin guards, versus Filas, Adidas, or the half-dozen other major sports outfitters. For those early planners hoping to cash in on junior’s field prowess, this is the place to pick up that replica jersey to wrap your first-born in, channeling Pele or Maradona. Store hours are 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. Monday through Friday and 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. on Saturday. Sundays they are open until 5:00 p.m.