Picking a fine chapeau to cover your dome can say a lot about your personality. A porkpie identifies you as the classic man-about-town who knows where to find the secluded watering holes in which jazz, blues, and ska sing from a vintage jukebox. A trilby, with its deeply indented crown and flexible brim, will give you that mysterious yet dashing look of a private eye ready to expose the Machiavellian misdeeds of corrupt politicians. And a fedora will make you look like you just stepped off the set of James Cagney's The Public Enemy. For the past 14 years, Hats & Hats has been helping Miami-Dade's stylish ballers find the right headgear to match their three-piece suits and golf attire. You can check out styles and prices ranging from Kangol ($35) to Puerto Fino ($75 to $145). Hats & Hats also has a wide selection of women's styles for the church ladies.

If you like to bike in Miami, you know Mack. It's been here for a half-century. You might well know Manny, the mechanic who has done repairs for the past 38 years. Heck, you even might have perused the great clearance deals online for last year's bikes or dreamed about that 15-pound, $12,000 Pinarello the store carries. The best thing about Mack, though, is the people. Many are serious bikers who compete in triathlons. When you buy a bike, these masters of the trade fit you like nowhere else. They not only adjust the seat but also study the derailleur, the crank, and the pedals — everything that could cause a problem down the road. You can also get great cycling clothing here cheap. A jersey goes for as little as $19.95. So hit the Mack, and you'll come back.

SOFLO is a killer skate shop, but it isn't just a killer skate shop. It's a bike repair place, community clubhouse, and barbecue spot too. Pick any random day, grab a few tallboys from Kwik Stop Mart down the street, and then roll up on your fixed-gear cruiser with a Baker board and hibachi strapped to your back. Without fail, the SOFLO mofos will welcome you like a brother. From outside, the only visible branding is a set of neon cardboard cutouts advertising stuff like "Longboards" and "Swank." Inside, though, it's visual overload. The walls are splashed from floor to ceiling with the insane Sharpie scribblings of SOFLO resident graff guy SuperDuper Jr5. He'll draw on almost anything — dirty napkins, losing lottery tickets, sleeping friends. There's even a carefully curated not-for-sale collection of boards designed and signed by skate-scene guys such as the legendary NeckFace. But most important, the swank for sale is plentiful. You got $25 organic cotton and hemp longsleeves from Elwood and others. You got rad kicks — Etnies, Vans, Vox, etc. — for $30 to $65. And you got street decks from most major companies as well as SOFLO's own custom line of $35 Jr5-designed boards. You got wheels and bearings and more. So show up, shop, and say "Hey!" to SOFLO mascot Cognac. He's a brindle bull terrier, and he can usually be found chilling on a bar chair in the corner.

Watch out for bicycle salesmen who wear ties. Or, really, anything besides a pair of beat-up jeans. Those clean-cut dudes will assume you can afford to peddle something that costs more than open-heart surgery. And they are as much fun to haggle with as a pot of boiled cabbage. To escape that snooty, yuppied-out bike scene, check out Federal Bike Depot, a nondescript white building with a seafoam-green overhang on a quiet North Beach street. These are bikes for the people, with secondhand rides that cost $100 to $250. The shop has a fine selection of mountain bikes and beach cruisers by brands such as Trek, Schwinn, and Diamondback. Every once in a while, you'll find a sweet deal on a vintage Raleigh. Nothing fancy — just decent bikes at fair prices. It's the jeans and T-shirts of the bike world.

There is no better way to traverse South Beach than by scooter. All of the annoying aspects of the neighborhood — the traffic, the parking — melt away, replaced by a little buzzing motor and the whoosh of wind in your face. That said, renting a scooter on South Beach has always been a bit of an annoyance too, if we're being nitpicky. Who wants to go to a scooter rental place? Isn't that a bit... Nebraskan? To address this travesty, a new business model has popped up: locally based Roam delivers scooters — plus beach-cruiser bicycles and skateboards — to any location in Miami Beach. The Vespas cost from $50 to $60 for a half-day rental to $75 to $95 for a full day. They come with a complimentary tank of fuel, and delivery and pick-up are free, meaning you don't have to waste any of your SoBe time trudging to and from a rental location or figuring out where you stick the gas nozzle.

In Miami — a freeway city where flash is all that matters — your car is everything. Drive up to a club in a vehicle that costs more than the average two-family house and you'll be shocked at how deferential everybody becomes, from the valet kid to the bouncer to the vampire at the bar with fake boobs and money-symbol eyeballs. Sure, you work at Denny's and drive a dented 1992 Corolla, but that's what those pre-approved plastic things you get in the mail are for: To spend money you ain't got to be somebody you are not. There are tons of exotic-car-rental spots in Miami, but most of them are unlicensed, fly-by-night operations that should be avoided like a streetside game of three-card monte. That said, there are a few legitimate rental businesses. Our favorite is American, which has its main office by Miami International Airport. You'll probably be berated by the wise-cracking Lamborghini Nazi at the front desk, but the place stocks more than 100 luxury vehicles. The experience will cost you from $899 a day for a Porsche Panamera to $2,200 a day for a Ferrari, and yes, it's shallow as hell — but we're guessing there's a reason you don't live someplace classy like Vancouver or San Francisco.

So you want to impress your friends back in Cleveland by showing them you roll like T-Pain and bang mermaids. Well, the only way to bag half-human/half-fish babes is to bounce in a sea vessel with some serious horsepower. Whether you need an eight-passenger 20-footer for cruising Biscayne Bay, want to take an excursion to Key West in a 37-foot sea cruiser with a tuna tower, or just wish to jet ski for a couple of hours, American WaterSports has the vessel for you. Eight types of crafts for rent by the hour or half and full days are conveniently docked at Monty's Marina in Coconut Grove, home to one of Miami's most popular watering holes and seafood grills. The staff is pleasant, knowledgeable, and always ready to answer any questions about your maritime adventure. If you're a local, we recommend signing up for an annual membership for good discounts on rentals. Memberships range from the six-month $800 "Get Your Feet Wet" plan to the annual $5,700 "Seasoned Speaker."

We're not sure when it happened. Boating used to be the domain of hardscrabble scallywags, weird dudes with chum stuck in their beards who might have sex with a manatee if they've been at sea too long. Now it seems like country club yuppies have yanked the wooden steering wheel away. All you see are these smug yachtsman wearing loafers sans socks and dry-cleaned captain's hats. But boaters on a budget still exist, and when they need a motor for their anchor crank ($95.99) or a jerry jug ($10.99) or a rub rail ($380) — we don't know what those last two are either, but the point is this place has everything for your seafaring rig — they eschew the big, glossy emporiums and go to El Capitan. It has the best prices in town, and equipment not in stock will be ordered and ready within 48 hours. So you can get your shit fixed and get back on the water even if you're more of an eyepatch pirate than a corporate pirate. But please: Do not flirt with the endangered sea mammals.

Like dropping acid or flying to the moon, scuba diving is one way to leave the planet — or at least feel like you have. Humans, somehow, have learned how to temporarily become sea creatures, which seems like an exquisite prank on Mother Earth. To make sure the joke's not on you, the right equipment is crucial. That's why Aquaknots, a small, owner-operated shop just south of Miami International Airport, is the place to get started. They offer a wide range of budget and elite brands, including Sea Scuba, Sherwood, and Akona. Masks range from $50 to $100, and spear guns go for $75 to $400. Diving classes are available in both Spanish and English and are taught by an experienced instructor. Because underwater, in a blanket of darkness, you'll hear nothing but the sound of your breathing. Which sure makes the right equipment seem a matter of life and breath.

Not too long ago, when we were hanging out at Alabama Jack's, a salty dog with pink melanoma on his nose leaned over and asked, "Mate, have you done the Spiegel?" He wasn't talking about the women's clothing catalogue but the U.S. Navy landing ship submerged off Key Largo as an artificial reef. Other barflies at Jack's had bragged about the wreck-diving there before, but this guy was pushy. "It's like a freaky, sunken ghost town down there. I've been down eight times." This sent us over the edge, so we whipped out our iPhone and pulled up the ship's Wiki page. We explained to our margarita-soaked friend that even if the complicated pockets and caverns of the wreck didn't disorient and kill divers, the toxic levels of PCB eventually would. With this, he brandished a rusty ship compass from his pocket and said, "But where would I get these?" We told him even those who stayed on dry land had access to the thousands of sunken treasures. "There's a place," we whispered, "down by the Miami River with ship wheels, anchors, retro metal diving suits, and busty figureheads. It's called Stone Age Antiques. You'll never have to deep-sea dive again."