Best Custom Cycle Shop 2001 | Too Much Concept USA | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Miami | Miami New Times
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"We design motorcycles that the client chooses from his dreams," Steven Baroukh says in a lilting French accent. Baroukh, along with his wife, Beatrice Ummels, and partner Yves Blanco, take standard-issue motorcycles and turn them into swooping constructs of steel and chrome. To review the designers' work is to transcend the conventional idea of what wheels, fenders, and engines do. They are themselves dreamers, romantics who sculpt everyday lead-sleds into organic, sensual shapes. A completely custom-built motorcycle can cost anywhere from $40,000 to $72,000. By then the design team's hands will have caressed every inch, internal and external, to lovingly bring it to shape. "Like a beautiful statue, we will bring smoothness to the form," Baroukh explains. "We create the parts, we weld them, we cut them." They've created outré concoctions such as a bike whose frame was encased in the shape of a woman on her back with her knees up, and a futuristic teardrop-shape white rocket. But as much as their focus is form, they are equally dedicated to function. Designs are thoroughly vetted to make sure custom parts won't interfere with the alignment, steering, and weight distribution of the bike. Joints are welded and tested. Bike owners don't need to completely reinvent their scooters. For between $3500 and $6500, the shop will customize a bike with paint, chrome, handlebars, fenders, and mirrors. They also do restoration work on vintage motorcycles. As Baroukh reminds, "Motorcycles are made to ride."

The first thing that hits your snout when you walk in the door is the intoxicating scent of hundreds of pairs of new leather boots. Then you notice the studded dog collars, horse whips, chaps in assorted primary colors, tubes of "ultrafine horse glitter." A South Beach fetish shop you haven't heard of? Nah, just a one-stop shop for horse owners, dog lovers, wild-bird feeders, and people who can't own too many large silver belt buckles. As you browse the astonishing array of avian comestibles ("Classic Finch," "Fancy wild bird w/corn," or "D'lux wild bird -- no corn"), chew hooves for dogs, and calf ropes, keep your eyes peeled for a sweaty ten-gallon hat and your ears tuned to the sound of jangling spurs. Still owned by the same family, now in its third generation, Sunset Feed & Supply opened in 1960, back when cowboys were REAL cowboys.

A big chain can be a turn-on. Sometimes choosing is hard: There's the airport Pleasure Emporium's humongous selection. There's the South Beach location where infamous murderer Andrew Cunanan reportedly shopped. And there's the Pleasure that delivers. The Miami River store, however (the newest carnal incarnation in the local porn proprietor's dynasty), tops our list again, mainly for its proximity to the professional wankfest that is downtown. After all, who really needs an hour to eat lunch? Fifteen minutes is plenty. Which leaves another 45 to browse the arousing collection of kinky blowups (how about an $88 policewoman doll?), dildos, vibrators, simulated vaginas, "fantasy wear," and more (booby pacifier, anyone?), plus literally thousands of porn videos. Although the sizable pink erection caused a flap among city politicos at the nearby Miami Riverside Center (a vote in its favor), the novelty store is no mere novelty. Open 24 hours Friday and Saturday, 8:00 a.m. to midnight Sunday through Thursday, Pleasure Emporium III is well lit and seemingly clean, with courteous male and female clerks -- hardly a stereotypically seamy waterfront sex shop. An average-looking couple spied on a recent visit could just as easily have been shopping for fixtures at Home Depot as searching through rows of Jelly Royale accouterments for the perfect penis placebo (by the way, a Pistol Peter Pump goes for $69.95).
Folks in South Miami-Dade take their baseball seriously, and so does Hitter's House. The store features four batting cages where a practicing slugger can get twenty pitches for just $1.25. Special hourly team rates are another indication that Hitter's House understands that the nation's favorite pastime is not just another sport. Autographed photos and baseball cards are available for collectors. Hard-core playing enthusiasts can find just about every piece of baseball gear available, from mitts to mouthpieces.

Need a set of dishes? Looking for just the right lamp to put in that corner of the den? On the prowl for the Ferrante and Teicher LP that will complete your collection of Sixties lounge music? This is the place for you. Red White & Blue is a veritable department store of used wares, containing not simply aisle upon aisle of clothing, handbags, and shoes but entire sections devoted to furniture, household goods, electronics, books, and records. If you don't find what you're looking for the first time, don't despair; new old merchandise is arriving constantly. And sales benefit a good cause: the Vietnam Veterans of America.

The man locked safely in his cage of yellow metal bars has to press the buzzer to open the first layer of metal bars to let you in. This time it's two young men, who carry a thirteen-inch television set to the pawning counter for quick cash. A family slumped in plastic chairs in the corner waits for the more complex loan negotiations of the group's patriarch to conclude. A teenage girl considers a dozen gold chains laid out in the case next to the handguns. Scores of rings with stories to tell twinkle up from another case. "We've got a sale on: 50 percent off all the gold," the salesman croons. He slips a gold band studded with green and white stones on her finger. "You see this ring?" he asks. "This is real emeralds. JC Penney gonna charge you $700." He flips over the price tag triumphantly -- $255, before the discount. "We buy low and sell low, so the customer gets a good value," he explains. A man steps up to the counter to inquire about buying a TV. The salesman has just the one for him. Another customer slips out the door at the next buzz. "Okay, I see you tomorrow," the salesman calls out, disappointed for the briefest moment. He knows it's just the middle of the 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. daily shift. There'll be other sales.

An angler walked into Richter's shop. He thought he needed to replace some gear. He picked out some $65 fly line and plunked it down on the counter. Richter had other thoughts on the matter after examining the angler's old line. "There's nothing wrong with this," he said, adding that it just needed to be cleaned. "I could sell some new line to you, but I wouldn't feel right about it." There are easier ways to catch fish than to go at them with a fly rod. But there is perhaps no simpler way to transcend this world for a few hours. As a result fly-fishermen and women tend to be a gentler, more contemplative lot and, of course, more honest -- all qualities Richter and his shop embody. "I'm a teacher; I'm really not a salesperson," the Miami native and semiretired architect admits. "I don't do this for a living. If I did I'd be broke." He gives fly-tying lessons and holds casting clinics. He sells all manner of gear (both new and used), and he serves as an information conduit for Miami-Dade anglers. All because fly-fishing, well, "it's a love, it's a passion, it's a more difficult way to catch a fish," he says. "If you want to catch more fish, go get some bait." Open Tuesday through Friday from 10:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m., Saturday 9:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®