There's not a comic book collector alive who doesn't think the virginal, sublimely condescending comic shop owner on The Simpsons is funny--and sure enough, there's a cardboard cutout of the character on a shelf of D.C. graphic novels at this store. But Big Brain proprietor Michael Drivas is so not that guy. Offering his frank opinion on wares to anyone who asks, the former Dreamhaven manager seems willing to meet you at your own level of expertise (the word "geek" is stamped on each of the shop's brown paper bags). The new Washington Avenue location has an open atmosphere worthy of the nearby Loft Literary Center: a sunny room of exposed brick walls, track lighting, and wood shelves stacked (though never overstuffed) with new comics--superhero, porno, Archie, Jimbo, manga, Disney, you name it. The spot is inviting for newbies, who can also admire the toys (check out the Uma Thurman doll from Kill Bill Vol. 1) and non-comic tomes (the rich new punk history 924 Gilman). And while collectors of back issues will have to go elsewhere, the staff caters to lifers as well with customer "pull-form," allowing buyers to pick up a monthly stack of requests without missing an issue. The form's bold-faced advice nicely sums up Big Brain's noncollector philosophy: "Please only buy the comics you read and enjoy."

With the passing of Ruminator, there really isn't a great general-interest independent bookstore in the Twin Cities. St. Paul's Bound To Be Read is a fine store with a particularly excellent kids' section and a well-programmed reading series, but it feels more like a budding chain's prototype than a true indie. What this town still has is a number of smart, scrappy specialty bookshops, such as genre specialists Uncle Hugo's, Uncle Edgar's, and Once Upon a Crime, the relocated and better-than-ever feminist stalwart Amazon Bookstore, and this relatively recent addition. Located in the same near Northeast building that houses the elegant Wilde Roast Cafe, Query is a cozy little shop with a small-but-diverse inventory and a strong reading series featuring local and national authors (the readings are often tied in with Lavender magazine's book club). Query is a GLBT-geared bookstore, but its selection is by no means limited to GLBT titles. They have a decent offering of general fiction, a very good array of cookbooks, an attractive selection of arts and entertainment titles, and a little bit of a lot more. Gay and lesbian bookstores have been closing left and right in the era of online retailers and big-box bookshops (some of which have serviceable to good gay and lesbian sections), but Query is out there bucking the trend.

There's nothing quite like the homey idiosyncrasies of mom-and-pop bookshops, but there's also nothing quite like reality, in which one often wants a book--now. Borders won't have everything you're looking for, but it offers better odds than any other Twin Cities bookseller. Unlike the various Barnes & Noble locations, the Uptown Borders is stocked with bibliophilic sensibility, even though DVDs, knickknacks, and other junk have taken up more and more of the shelf space. The fiction section is particularly strong--you'll have to special-order many of your cult favorites, but most major novelists are well represented, and you can usually choose between two or three editions of canon fodder. The store also does a good job with poetry, gay and lesbian lit, reference, and kids, and has serviceable history, philosophy, and political science sections. Also, no one seems to care if you quietly browse and skim for three hours without even thinking of spending a dime.

A bastion of funkiness and culture in increasingly banal downtown Minneapolis, this cluttered bookshop is a must-visit for both serious antiquarians and casual readers on a budget. The store's street-level floor has an excellent collection of fiction from which you might take home a first edition of a favorite novel, or an illustrated version of a classic, or a reasonably priced hardcover or trade paperback. In the basement, you'll find an almost godlike theology section, an assortment of out-of-print history volumes, and an impressive collection of classical and opera LPs to boot. The employees are friendly, knowledgeable, and mellow. And, perhaps most importantly, the store has character for days.

Auntie Em's is a serene, book-filled hideaway that comes with an all-important bonus when you're trying to keep up with the kids on a lazy (hah!) weekend morning: in-house caffeine. A full-service espresso bar with juice and pastries will keep you busy while the kids browse and watch Skooter the lizard, Rosie the bird, and the rest of Auntie Em's menagerie. Or you could test-run a few books with them in the oversized chair or at the kid-sized picnic table. Auntie Em's is new in town (doors opened last April) and is smaller and quieter than other better-known children's bookstores in the cities. More than that, there are story times three mornings a week. But it is well stocked with the classics from board books up through preteen fantasy fiction--and anything you can't find, the staff will order for you.

Really, there are only two things required of an art supply store: cheap goods and a reasonably helpful staff. While the mostly-student staff at MCAD's art supply store can be a touch on the surly side, the prices are hard to beat. The Art Cellar is of another era, a retail store with no corporate logos or cold, corporate uniformity. There are, instead, hand-lettered and -decorated signs that steer you toward the cheapest paints and impart wisdom about the goods. ("Most of these acetate sheets will not go through the Xerox," warns one sign. "They will melt! We sell transparency sheets behind the counter.") Since it's a nonprofit shop dedicated to serving cash-strapped art students, the Art Cellar's markups are minimal. What's more, the inventory of Conte Crayons, sketchpads, and the like is impressive, even though it's crammed into five small aisles: two for paints; one for pencils, brushes, and other tools; one for sketchpads and paper; and the last for books (where you'll find slim pickings of art textbooks, a few e.e. cummings collections, and Kurt Vonnegut novels). Just be sure to heed one sign that best sums up the place's aesthetic: "Stealing is for dumb-ass rich kids with nothing better to do. Be a proletariat and pay for your books."

This 37-year-old retail pioneer doesn't have the mom-and-pop vitality of Treehouse or Fifth Element (or its younger self), but for eclectic music lovers, the Fetus can't be beat. Here you'll find the Twin Cities' best and deepest selections of jazz and R&B--winding racks with a smart blend of recent fare and catalog essentials. The store's rock section is also extensive, and we're grateful that it's not broken up into sub-genres like it is at Cheapo (where one has to decide whether MC5 are filed in "classic rock," "punk rock," or "metal"). The Fetus's international section is also pretty hot, likewise for hip hop and country, and while its dance section is a bit lacking, it will probably satisfy dabblers. The Fetus has also expanded its collection of vinyl and is now selling some used LPs, and there is still a well-stocked head shop and enough cheap gift items to keep your stockings forever stuffed with amusing gewgaws.

Every day, hordes of disappointed music consumers, kids late with the rent, thieves, and former Smashing Pumpkins fans head into Cheapo with their trash and your treasure. The abundance of new arrivals makes Cheapo an invaluable destination for the music fan and collector. Now, it should be said that shopping for used CDs simply isn't as pleasurable as shopping for used albums. First, there's the sound of shuffling through CDs, an abrasive click that seems to tsk-tsk the thrifty consumer for not properly supporting the record industry. The used-album buyer, in contrast, is serenaded by a lovely series of whoosh-puffs. Also, CD covers are too small to identify in a hurry. And efficiency is important when scouring the stuffed used racks at Cheapo. Sifting through the store's weekly used haul can take hours. Hell, in that time you could put in a few extra hours at work and buy a new CD in three minutes. But that would be foolish, since work sucks and browsing is fun and new CDs cost too damn much. At Cheapo, you'll rarely pay more than $8.95 for a used CD, and if you visit often enough, you can avoid paying full price for most of the hot new releases. Beat-up but playable CDs go for less, as do very common and less sought-after titles. The store even has used CDs for as little as 99 cents, which are particularly recommended to fans of very crappy '90s obscurities. After you're through at the Uptown store, which tends to have the hippest selection, head over to the St. Paul and Fridley stores for a good hard day of nothing much at all.

In 10 or 15 years, maybe everyone except the elderly, the impoverished, and a few assorted Luddites will have all their recorded music on computers and tiny digital boxes. Then again, folks pronounced the album dead in the early '90s, and it's still going reasonably strong. You can still get vinyl editions of many hip-hop, dance, and indie-rock albums, the 12-inch single has never been improved on for DJ use, and it's not hard to find vintage jazz, rock, country, and blues on thick, audiophile wax at several area shops. Plus, the used-LP market is still vibrant, though it's not quite the bargain hunter's paradise that it once was. Vinyl junkies can turn to Treehouse, the Cheapo stores, Hymie's, Fifth Element, and other spots, but Let It Be's long-player collection is the best in town for leisurely browsing. Their dance basement has all sorts of club music and electronica for you pro- and would-be DJs, while the store's street-level floor is loaded with sealed vinyl (rock, dance, what have you) and old rock, jazz, soul, pop, country, you name it. The selection is a mix of collectables, run-of-the-mill dusties, and wonderful cheap junk, and the store's website offers many titles--including the "Hart's Collection" of rare 78s and the "Pyramid Collection" of '60s-through-'80s LPs--not available in the brick-and-mortar space.

Don't let the name deter you; the Ink Lab may be best known as a tattoo shop, but inside this immaculate storefront lurks a cadre of highly skilled (and elaborately adorned) piercing experts. Masters of speed and accuracy, the Ink Lab kids are capable of transforming even the gnarliest modification (zero-gauge septum claw, anyone?) into a surprisingly Zen-like experience. Think of them not as needle-wielding brutes, but as breathing coaches, spirit guides, and pain-management professionals. And if you're feeling a mite anxious about getting that Princess Albertina, they excel at navel and nostril skewering as well. A good piercing studio ought to feel like an operating room with attitude, and the Ink Lab's pristine setup and thoughtful aftercare supplies strike the perfect balance between "born to rock" and "born to avoid unsightly infection." An attractive and moderately priced selection of body jewelry is also available, ranging from titanium barbells for the orally fixated to amber ear spirals for organic types. And after you've braved the pain and earned your proverbial lolly, you can head next door to Venus and find the perfect peekaboo bra for showing off that new nipple jewelry.

"Bold will hold," the ink-slinger's adage goes, and the eye-popping work at Uptown holds up on every level. Located above Bob's Java Hut, this appointment-only shop (the occasional walk-in welcome) on 27th Street and Lyndale Avenue is for serious tattoo aficionados--if you're jonesing to get a blurred monarch butterfly etched on your ankle, you might want to look elsewhere. With demonic Japanese Noh masks leering on the walls and Satan's greatest hits blaring on the sound system, fresh blood and colored ink couldn't commingle in a more appropriate place. Whether you're looking for an old-school candy striper on your calf or a biomechanical backpiece, artists Steve, Nic, Jon, and Tom create the sort of memorable work that winds up being exposed time and time again for curious admirers. And isn't that the point, you inked-out peacock, you?

The main problem at Golden Leaf is finding enough room for all the plaques the shop wins year in, year out. Clearly, these folks are doing something right. We think it has something to do with their exhaustive selection: As always, you'll find a wide array of cigars, pipes, and loose tobacco. Can't find those wicked German smokes you discovered in Munich? Look no further. The Golden Leaf's famed walk-in humidor still boasts upward of 800 stogies from the world's finest producers. Better still, you're welcome to fire one of those bad boys up -- right there in the store. How's that for Minneapolis, circa 2005? If your tobacco desires are a little more low-rent, and maybe you just need a pack of Luckies and a Powerball ticket, this is still the place for you. Every smoking enthusiast is welcome here: The folks at Golden Leaf have never sneered at lowbrow ways, and they're not about to start.

Hard against the Hilltop trailer park community sits My Tobacco Store, a friendly beacon amid the strip malls and asphalt that constitute southern Anoka County. The storefront's hand-painted sign proclaims, "Tobacco: Now and Forever." In truth, the shop appears geared toward all manner of combustibles. A broad array of cigars and cigarettes can be had at competitive prices, and when we were there six weeks ago, and then again last week, we also found a generous selection of hand-blown glassware and attractive wooden pipes for what-have-you. Friendly staffers are always on hand to guide the confused shopper. (What was that Nestea can doing in the display case, and why did it cost $20?) Stay a while--and pull a few tubes of Captain Black through your new water pipe. And don't forget to pick up a few sticks of Misty Mountain incense on your way out.

When the afternoon sun shines into the windows of this new venture, it's hard to tell whether Nico is a gift shop or an art gallery. Locally made jewelry is laid out on crisp white pedestals, while sparsely filled shelves along the back wall hold other Twin Cities originals--hand-painted plates, coffee-table books, and homemade textiles. Even the smiley-faced plush toys imported from Japan have that pristine Do not touch look. But like the hard-to-miss cube-shaped creature that wants nothing more than to sit on your shelf and hold your cell phone, Nico is a friendly place. Not only does the shop carry the eclectic one-of-a-kind couture you expect from an Uptown boutique, it also carries equally chic T-shirts designed by Djai, Creative Printed Apparel. Each shirt is decked out with a variety of hip-hop characters or--in classic Minnesota fashion--woodland critters.

Whether you're searching for the perfect gift for a soon-to-be-married couple that has a collection of one-of-a-kind tchotchkes from around the world, or that fickle mother-in-law who grimaces at last year's pink, or the precocious kid who is bored by common toys, Patina is your one-stop shop for gifts to please them all. Here, you can pick up a lavender-scented eye pillow for your hard-to-please mother-in-law. And the Sexy Mama Breath Mints or a nifty set of Housewife Tarot Cards might even bring a smile to her face, or make her more hopeful of her future. You always can grab a little something for yourself, too: a fashionable photo album (for those great pics of your mother-in-law), a gorgeous, vintage-looking marcasite bracelet from Judith Jack, a stone massage kit, a kumquat candle. Then, wrap them all up using one of Patina's beautiful sets of wrapping paper, write yourself a note on one of the hilarious and wholly unique cards only Patina carries, and draw yourself a bath filled with Patina's soothing body tea. You'll forget that mother-in-law in no time.

This joint is small, but it packs a punch, and it's well-stocked with every sort of nail, screw, wrench, seed, or fertilizer you can name. Sure, Home Depot, Ace Hardware, and Lyndale Hardware remain hardware heaven, and we could spend an entire weekend lost in their miles of aisles, browsing through the porcelain fixtures and snuggling in the hanging rugs. But none have the old-timey charm of this corner shop. And besides, what other hardware store's history has been documented in a monthly newsletter, copies of which are now on file at the Minnesota Historical Society?

This local start-up, featuring two of the Twin Cities' most creative floral designers, already has created a buzz in its first few months off the ground: Sarah Lambert and Sarah Brunsvold do the funky weekly floral arrangements for upscale bistros A Rebours and Pane Vino Dolce. Their daring floral designs are done by appointment only, so you can't drop in and get a bundle of long-stem roses to go--or for delivery for that matter. But even better than getting a vase of thorny flowers delivered to your doorstep, this design duo will show up at your house with an armful of variegated ivy and showy leucadendron and whip up wholly unique window box and urn arrangements that will last the entire season--even in the dead of winter. Each flowery creation is site-specific, of course, but Sassafras is known for its decadent designs, which in the spring and summer could include gigantic French pussy willows or specially created topiaries. Sassafras also creates arrangements for events and weddings, and will adorn even the dimmest of yards with inspired landscaping that's sure to make the Joneses jealous. And when the season permits, the Sarahs use flowers and branches from local organic growers. Did we mention they come to your house to do all of your flowerpots and landscaping? Finally, no more monthly do-overs.

This neighborhood garden center in south Minneapolis is Mecca for garden gurus and novices alike. Here, the botanical-minded can find everything they need to create their very own oasis: wooden wind chimes that won't drive the neighbors batty, unique annuals that will make the same neighbors jealous, a wide assortment of clay pots that are sure to match any decor, and handmade decorations like glass butterflies that will add a signature touch to your labor of love. Plus, this meditative retreat in the center of the city is one of the few places that offer organic gardening supplies. There's no longer any need to kill those persistent weeds using earth-polluting chemicals. Instead, opt for a magical mixture of vinegar and lemon that will make even the thickest thistle shrivel up like it just got dropped into the deep fryer. Plus, the center's beyond-friendly employees are so knowledgeable about how to make a garden grow they could sprout gardenias from their fingertips. In winter.

New York in the '20s. Prague in the early '90s. Are we fated not to recognize the good old days until they've been bought and sold, co-opted and corrupted out of existence? That wistful preamble is a way of introducing the fact that we here in the Twin Cities are living through a golden age of the neighborhood bike shop. It flies in the face of economic reality, not to mention the proliferation of throwaway bikes at Wal-Mart. So how do we explain the blossoming of the One on One Bike Studio on Washington Avenue (a coffee shop/bike retailer/art gallery/repair shop with a blog and an elephants' graveyard of old frames in the basement)? Who's buying retro-styled Rivendells at Kenwood Cycle? How does the big boy of the bunch, Freewheel Bike Shop on the East Bank, make money by cleaning your gummed-up freewheel for free? We've borrowed a wrench at all these places, without the staff eying the cash register. Yet this year, we're picking the latest addition to the local bike scene, Behind Bars. It's a labor of love, this spacious garage showroom next to a funeral home in northeast Minneapolis. Former messenger Chuck Cowan is the proprietor and lead mechanic; his wife Stephanie keeps the books and works on weekends. The new stock is idiosyncratic and seems to follow the owner's tastes: They've got Nirve cruisers but no Surly bikes--local single-speeders may love them, but Chuck remains skeptical. That said, he'll special-order just about any part you can imagine. And he'll do an economical tune-up that will make your lugged, steel Specialized feel more special than whatever carbon Trek is pimping this season. Neighborhood kids wander in, and knock things over, and come back shamelessly the next day. It's that kind of place--and here in Minneapolis, chances are there's a bike shop in your own neighborhood a lot like it.

Golf is a game tailor-made for obsessives. The late, great Ben Hogan is said to have examined each of his golf balls twice for imperfections: first, in a buoyant bath of Epsom salts, and then beneath a magnifying glass. And these were his practice balls. On any given day at Golfsmith, one can find a clutch of equally thorough--if less illustrious-- golfers, each honing their equipment to razor-sharp specs. Sure, you can buy a set of clubs straight off the rack, but you can also buy a suit at the Salvation Army. Golfsmith caters to the inveterate fiddler, the guy who's worried about the swing weight of his four wood and is ready to do something about it. High-quality grips, shafts, and heads are sold a la carte. Tungsten inserts? Got 'em. Lead tape? Check. Nowhere in the world of retail golf does the DIY ethic flower more fully. (For the mere dilettantes among us, there is a wide array of ready-made, cash-and-carry gear at competitive prices.) A caveat: Once you've emerged from the basement with your custom-built clubs in hand, there's no one else to blame for your miserable performance on the links.

This Twin Cities mini-chain is a soccer geek's dream. The two area locations offer a top-notch collection of merchandise for active players, neophyte coaches, and armchair enthusiasts. In terms of basic pitch accessories--cleats, shin guards, shorts, socks, balls--you won't find a better selection. There's also a wide variety of international apparel. Been searching for that Ronaldo jersey that will surely elevate your game (or at least your FIFA Soccer 2005 Xbox skills)? Soccer Express is the place. Or how about a videotape of the 2000 European Championship final between France and Italy? They've got that too. And for soccer moms or dads who suddenly find themselves, uh, coaching junior's pee-wee squad, both locations also feature a helpful collection of books and videos explaining the finer points of the game. The St. Paul store is newly expanded, cementing its place as the best place to shop for any devoted footy fan.

Baseball mitts, like frying pans, are most effective and enjoyable only after they've been thoroughly broken in. Wrapping your putter around the nearest tree, while temporarily satisfying, dents the savings account over the long haul. And if you buy your children hockey equipment, cross-country ski gear, and dozens of other sports-related accouterments brand-new, your odds of getting full-value usage out of the stuff before they grow out of it (mentally or physically) are pretty slim. Put simply, there are plenty of sound reasons why the "previously owned" merchandise at your local Play It Again Sports might be preferable to the stiff and shiny sporting goods offered at the big boxes. With more than 400 franchise outlets nationwide (including the 18 metro locations we found on their website), Play It Again has many of the helpful advantages of the accursed chains, without quite so many of the drawbacks. For example, sheer buying power enables the stores to purchase some high-quality new goods in sufficient bulk to offer them at bargain prices--we just paid less than $15 for a pair of never-before-worn cross-country ski boots--and their ubiquity means convenience and accessibility. On the other hand, each location has its own personality and unique inventory, based on the caliber of used goods others have brought in to sell or consign. Some stores have a deep supply of golf clubs but slim pickings for figure skates; others boast a wealth of first-baseman's mitts but a lousy batch of skateboards. But we're confident if you look around, you'll find superb values on the thing you've been looking for, making that next sporting activity a little sweeter--and more cost-effective.

In the interest of family harmony, every pooch needs to learn his Ps and Qs (especially his Ps). Manners make the dog, and at Twin Cities Obedience Training Club, trainers have been helping dog owners instill those manners since 1945. TCOTC is a nonprofit organization and was the first dog-training club in Minnesota. Nine weekly 90-minute obedience classes cost $100--money well spent, considering all the money you'll save on things your dog doesn't destroy out of boredom or unbridled rowdiness. (For dogs already impeccably behaved, there are classes in popular dog sports like flyball.) The club uses positive reinforcement training, and its trainers all know that behind every well-behaved dog is a well-trained owner--people learn as much as pets do at TCOTC.

Face it: You need a new (or another) best friend. It's time to fill that space in your life that's impossible to ignore. But where do you go to find that furry or fluffy or feathery pal? The Twin Cities metro has an admirable number of quality animal shelters, including the Animal Humane Society, with locations in Golden Valley and Coon Rapids. Both locations have clean, bright, modern facilities that house all manner of pets awaiting homes. Dogs, cats, parakeets, rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters--if it's a pet, then they probably have it. The friendly staff cares for the animals and guides potential owners through the adoption process. And it is indeed a process: Potential owners are screened to make sure every animal goes to a home where it will be loved and cared for. Adoption fees run from $100 to $325 for dogs, $70 to $125 for cats, $5 to $30 for small rodents, and fees for birds begin at $16. At the Golden Valley location, AHS also offers public seminars on pet care and animal behavior, dog-training classes (for a fee), and a pet loss support group.

Here's what nobody tells you when you get a pet: Your friends and relatives aren't particularly interested in caring for it when you have to go out of town. So what do you do? You hire a professional. Yes, there are people who make sure you don't have to worry about Fido while you're off on vacation or business, and like any group of responsible professionals, they've formed an association, the Professional Pet Sitters of Minnesota. Professional pet sitters show up on time, and they don't resent having to clean a litter box or scoop the dog poop. These are usually seasoned veterans, and they've probably already met pets like yours, even if yours have special needs or are especially weird. What's more, these folks know exactly what to do in an emergency and they carry their own insurance. At PPSM's website you can enter your zip code and you'll be presented with a list of member pet-sitting companies that serve your area. Make reservations very early; since professional pet sitters are in demand, their schedules fill up quickly.

Unlike most trendy salons in the Twin Cities, Olive Salon makes clients feel at home--rather than feeling they were unceremoniously plopped into some ultra-cool wannabe New York salon run by snotty hipsters recently fired from Urban Outfitters. Located in Loring Park, this salon also is a mini art gallery, filled with colorful paintings from local artists that are perfectly complemented by the lime-green and cobalt-blue walls. Thankfully, there's no obnoxious club music bouncing off these warm walls, either. Instead, the salon opts for the sounds of Elliott Smith and, earlier in the day, sometimes a bit of Snoop Dogg's Greatest Hits. Whether you're looking for a lavender Mohawk (all-over color, $45 and up), an updated bob (haircuts $30 and up), a fully dreaded head ($200), or just a quick trim, the stylists treat each haircut as if it's their own personal work of art.

True, MAC is no mom-and-pop war-paint shop, but do you really want to look like Mom? MAC's products, developed for professional make-up artists, are renowned for their rich pigments, varied finishes, and balls-out glamour (the latter effect often literal, as adoring drag queens can attest). The Uptown shop, wedged squarely at Lake and Hennepin, is stocked with a blinding spectrum of lipsticks, loose powders, sable-tipped applicators, and the coolest estheticians ever to model black Lycra and brush holsters. The service is without parallel; after you've been puffed and polished into an exotic vision, an associate will enter your products into a personal database to ensure you never forget which shade of saffron looks best on your lids. Are they attentive? Merely finger a tube of Lipglass with interest, and you'll find yourself being ushered into a chair, assaulted with cotton swabs, and transformed into Mr. or Mrs. Minnesota Fabulous, Uptown division. So the next time you're in Uptown, blow off that viniyasa yoga class and beautify yourself the old-fashioned way. Viva glam!

Who would have guessed that the Twin Cities' best waxing salon is in a strip mall on the Bloomington/Richfield border? Faces and More has the same upscale products and comforting decor one finds at salons in tonier neighborhoods, but their prices are well below the Uptown and Edina norm. Waxing is a masochist's folly; after all, we're talking about molten wax and ripping strips of hair out by the root. So don't believe anyone about it not hurting--it does, and the pain varies depending on what you're getting waxed. Those hardcore folks who brave the pain and embarrassment of a "Brazilian" add the exposure equivalent of a full gynecological exam to the experience. Unlike some salons, Faces and More uses the stronger paraffin wax, which reduces having to re-wax the same spot, and also lessens the possibility of ingrown hairs. The Faces and More staff offers the perfect combination for shy Minnesotans: efficient and professionally friendly while somehow also supremely disinterested. Remember to always specify how much hair you want left. And if you're getting a wax in prep for a big date, get it the day before--otherwise you might be red or sensitive. But the next day, oh baby.

Next year the oldest mall in Minnesota--indeed, some insist the nation--turns 50. And may we just say that in our opinion, Southdale has matured quite nicely. Yes, there's the big hollow husk that used to be Mervyn's, but who shopped there anyhow? We've always preferred the rest of the mall: one of the best-stocked Marshall Field's outposts in town; a JC Penney; an Aveda store; a decent range of specialty clothing shops; and even two housewares places, Crate and Barrel and the much more funky and tantalizing Cooks of Crocus Hill. The attached multiplex has 16 screens and stadium seating, and while we think it's a shame that the "fine dining" addition tacked on a few years back doesn't serve up anything truly fitting that boast, we applaud the fact that if you really want to, you can now get a Champagne cocktail or some lettuce wraps after the show.

Pawnshops reek of desperation. Nobody puts their valuables in hock in exchange for a short-term cash infusion unless they're just a sawbuck or two away from skid row. This means that to find the "best" pawnshop you've got to zero in on the places where financial pipe dreams die. It's all about location. That's what makes Pawn Xchange so special. It's located just across the street from the entrance to Canterbury Park Racetrack & Card Club. Even better, Mystic Lake Casino Hotel is just down the road. In other words, you'd be hard-pressed to find a better spot to prey on hard-luck gamblers between here and Biloxi, Mississippi. Pawn Xchange's inventory suggests that a lot of grown men have been hocking their toys in exchange for a little chump change. The store features impressive collections of pool sticks, fishing poles, guitars, and hunting bows. The assortment of golf clubs rivals what you'd find at the Sports Authority. You're also guaranteed to find a half-dozen quality TVs for sale and twice as many DVD players. The CD collection ($3 each or 5 for $12) usually contains a few gems and the videotapes are priced to sell ($2 each or 6 for $10). Trust us: Pawn Xchange is a better bet than the slots at Mystic Lake.

While not exactly unique, as there are two affiliated stores in the western suburbs, this Rice Street behemoth has the rest of the Twin Cities competition beat. Name a nondisposable item you need, Unique has it. (And even some perishables, like--why?--used lipstick.) For cheap, simple electronics, forget the pawnshop: Unique has numerous TVs--all plugged in so you can check out the picture--along with VCRs, phones, and much more. The housewares are extensive, and include perfectly nice small kitchen appliances. There's a huge clothing selection and a decent amount of furniture, along with the unexpected: Need a wood-burning stove, complete with owner's manual, for 70 bucks? But what always amazes us is the sheer variety of useful junk to be found on any given visit in the aisles that hold the odds and ends: owl-bedecked playing cards; cartoon-character lunchboxes; long-forgotten promotional toys; giant ashtrays with swirly, hippie-era patterns; silver, pig-shaped wind chimes. Now that's unique.

Ask any normal child about her most recent outing at JC Penney and you'll reach the same conclusion: Shoe shopping is not everyone's idea of a wake-the-neighbors, sound-the-alarm good time. But if a shoe-aholic absolutely must drag a shopaphobe anywhere, let it be Heavenly Soles. The stock at the Lake Street boutique is half shoes, beautiful shoes, half what's this doing in a shoe store? While customer A tries on Camper's latest model of urban hiking boot, customer B can peruse messenger bags, body salts, and quirky gifts. Plus, even the crabbiest patron might be enticed to try on a pair from the store's frequently updated selection of monster-stomping combat boots, comfy clogs, and bright, candy-colored sneakers.

Spending a thousand bucks or more on a suit is probably a sign of extreme vanity, mixed-up priorities, and, of course, too much disposable income. Then again, people find all sorts of dubious ways to spend their money, and smart gentlemen know that it's better to show up for a date or job interview in a jalopy and killer threads than to step out of a fancy ride in Dockers and a fleece pullover. If you want to get as close as currently possible to the classic Anglo-American style seen in '40s movies and once sold at Brooks Brothers, the Ralph Lauren store is your best bet. Lauren's suit cuts change slightly every year, but he almost always sticks to the fundamentals of balance; line; and elegant, durable fabrics that define mainstream style. Whether you want to dress with impeccable conservatism or make a statement, here's where you can get the classics: a gray-flannel-chalk-stripe double-breasted, a navy three-button pinstripe, a tan linen, a tweed jacket that should last you 20 years. Wilder patterns and fabrics can be found during the store's semiannual trunk shows--so if you really want a lavender summer suit, it can be arranged. Or if you have no need for formality and don't want to spend a fortune, the store is almost always hawking marked-down exemplars of currently resurgent preppie fashion and anti-fashion. When it comes to Polo sales, one can usually count on this rule: the louder the garment, the deeper the discount. Thrifty fans of pastel corduroys and polka-dot bow ties, take note.

After overdosing on pan-ethnic hippie swag at Calhoun Square, seek refuge at Heartbreaker and revel in the unapologetic trendiness of their merchandise. Sometimes you want to wear a scarlet tunic with leg-o'-mutton sleeves, sometimes you want to wear a fitted tee emblazoned with "Diamond Dogs"-era David Bowie, sometimes you want to wear Lucite-soled stilettos that require backup medical coverage. Whatever the case, if you want to look hot in the Paris Hilton sense, Heartbreaker's got you (un)covered. This spacious Uptown storefront houses every element for the perfect dump-him ensemble: shoes, bags, and of course, those signature Heartbreaker tops that accentuate the, um, collarbones. Best of all, it's sex on a shoestring budget; you can score a complete outfit here for less than a meal at Mission. Kit yourself out in these threads, and you might find yourself breaking hearts with impunity. That Guatemalan rollneck sweater you bought at the head shop might be comfy, but come on, live a little! Those exquisite collarbones deserve to be seen.

If half the fun of shopping is the hunt, Theater Antiques is a two-week African safari. With several dealers sharing a space that's overflowing with odd little bits of Americana, treasures hide out in the damnedest places. Looking for a pair of shoes? Scan the floor of the entire store (including the hidden feet of every gussied-up mannequin). But then, don't forget to raise your eyes to the overhead shelves, because they're just as fruitful. Accoutrements like cufflinks can be found in a dozen glass cases crammed with decades' worth of jewelry. Gloves, handkerchiefs, and scarves are stored in bins that smell pleasantly like Grandma. And once you've found the perfect '40s ensemble, imagine how you'll look in it while stretching out on a nearby chaise lounge, Norma Desmond-style. It's not too difficult to find vintage stores in the Twin Cities, but Theater Antiques is more than a shop--it's a lifestyle as well.

Here's a fact: Babies and kids outgrow the chichi clothes (the Hanna Andersson, the Zutano, the Marimekko) and the solidly made middle-brow stuff (the Baby Gap, the Carters, the OshKosh) just as quickly and inexorably as they do the stuff from Target. The difference is that parents with a stash of the former are far more likely to consign it than to donate it. Most consignment stores, however, know you're trying to score the good stuff, so they mark it high, nearly at retail. Not so at Once Upon a Child, where even the elite name brands are priced the way used clothes ought to be. (And if you're cleaning out closets yourself, keep in mind that Once Upon a Child pays cash rather than selling on true consignment, so it's a lot less hassle.)

At Creative Kidstuff you can walk in, grab a sweet, rosy-cheeked clerk, and say, "I need a board game for a smart ten-year-old, a rocket safe enough for a three-year-old, outdoor dollhouse furniture for the seven-year-old with everything, and a unicorn suitable for a preschool-aged boy." Twenty minutes--and a big hit on your wallet--later you'll be walking out, bright-colored bags in hand, holiday shopping done. Or you can block off a couple of hours on your calendar and browse to your inner child's content. At Creative Kidstuff they not only know kids of all ages, they know what parents want, too. And the place avoids the violent, the schlocky, the commercial, and the über-plasticky. Instead the shelves are filled with crafts, toys for imaginative play, and plenty of blond wood to go with your decor.

There's a whole crop of new baby goods stores for parents who refuse to accept that they have actually birthed a baby, rather than a mini-adult with its own hipster tastes. But the 20-year-old St. Paul standby, Baby Grand, will help you deal with the nitty-gritty (and the goopy and the poopy) parts of baby care--from stained onesies to leaky breasts to potty training. If you're looking for it, they've got high-end diaper bags and that shibboleth of modern urban parenting, the $700 Bugaboo stroller. But they've also got a more proletarian line of strollers (the $30 to $150 kind), along with high chairs, cribs, and car seats in more realistic middle-class price ranges (although they'll never trump the big discount stores). In fact, there's so much stuff packed behind the tiny storefront on Grand Avenue that it looks like Mary Poppins herself had a hand in cramming it all in.

There are a couple of dozen stores in the metro area where one can wander and fondle the mohairs and the super-light bulky-weight wools. A lot of these stores are come-latelies, riding the stitch-n-bitch wave of knitting popularity. But the old guard is still where it's at: The Yarnery has welcomed knitters in the same old house on Grand Avenue since the time of macramé and ponchos (the first time around, that is). The selection covers a wide range of prices (of course, nobody knits to save money) and is organized to inspire. Like other venues, the Yarnery offers several classes, but the casual Friday-night knits are refreshingly low-key and welcoming.

Spring cleaning starts (and, if you're like us, ends) with the yearly trip to the car wash. Time to chip months of coffee splashes off the dash and vacuum pounds of sand and salt off the floor mats. Luckily the folks at Mermaid have been taking on the filthiest of Fords for ages. Free coffee and donuts are nice perks, but that's not what makes Mermaid the best. The $12.99 Total Service Wash is one of the best deals in town. But, if your auto is subjected to the atrocities of street parking, pack-a-day smoking, and fast-food wrapper disposal, you might want to get the Treasure Chest: For a mere $199.95 you get the Total Service plus full shampoo, Armor-All all over, clean doorjambs, Tech Shield Clear Coat, and even a good tire cleaning. Aside from cleanliness, the folks at the Mermaid understand that thriftiness is damn near as close to godliness, so they also offer quantity discounts for those OCD-types who truly believe in the Church of the Clean Car.

B&Bs can be a turnoff to those phobic members of society who prefer the shrink-wrapped anonymity of hotels to sharing comforts with strangers. But step over the historic threshold of Evelo's, and you might feel a luscious wave of nostalgia for the days before intelligent key cards, automated wake-up calls, and those damned minibars. A lovingly restored 1897 Victorian convenient to both Uptown and downtown, Evelo's features three period-perfect guest rooms (and shared English-style baths, forcing guests to actually interact with their fellow man in the grand B&B tradition). Restored woodwork, a formal dining room/conservatory, and a stone fireplace hark back to the days when detail and propriety were valued over prepackaged convenience. This luxe old-world atmosphere comes at a surprisingly reasonable price, and given the prime location near shopping, restaurants, and the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, you'll appreciate the extra pocket money. As for that crucial "second B," Evelo's offers a renowned complimentary breakfast. Sure, such burnished Victorian grandeur is a far cry from the endless blocks of antiseptic rooms you'd find at a Sheraton, but that's a quaint reward in itself.

Once upon a time, the St. Paul Winter Carnival was started to prove to outsiders that Minnesota was indeed a habitable place. That didn't exactly work, did it? Over a century later, we're still living in what is regarded as flyover territory by many, despite all our efforts to attract travelers. One thing this old cow town needed was a first-class, business-friendly, luxurious hotel in the heart of downtown Minneapolis. Location matters, people, and despite the drawback of being housed in the cheesy confines of Block E, Le Meridien provides easy access to many fancy restaurants and nightclubs (including two of its own, Cosmos and the Infinity Room), the Target Center, shopping, light rail, the skyways, and strip clubs. But even more important, the rooms provide all that a weary tech-savvy traveler could want: high-speed internet access, plasma-screen TVs (hooked up to satellite), and video games, along with many other amenities. Plus, the rooms actually look classy, avoiding that staid hotel ambiance prevalent in even the most expensive places. In fact, just walking into the beautiful marble lobby of the nearly two-year-old hotel makes us feel more sophisticated.

Seems to us that those in the highest tax bracket--the ones easily able to afford the A/V gadgets from the most rarified local dealers of hi-fi perfection--have been getting all the goods the past four years. So while we do understand that audiophilia doesn't and shouldn't come cheap, we wanted this year to honor a shop that at least gave us working stiffs a fighting chance to bring home a new toy or two. What we found at this longtime Uptown showroom (whose younger sister store is in Eden Prairie off Highway 212) was a refreshing lack of pressure and pretension, and a healthy but hardly overwhelming abundance of hardware in the upper-middle class of high fidelity. They particularly like the Rotel brand of receiver here, and no wonder: The heavy, spare, black-on-gray design suggests an amp that even Donald Fagen would be happy to own, and the sound from one of them is deep, punchy, clear, and fully enveloping. And at about $1,200 for the intro-level Rotel kit (plus a C-note or so for a pair of Monster-mashing cables from Audioquest), the prices, relatively speaking, are music to our ears. They even keep a mighty fine Technics turntable on the shelf for two bills.

Our gadget-loving buds at Best Buy have dominated the penny-pincher's knob-twiddling category for years--but another homegrown corporation has shrewdly pumped up the volume. Did you know that Target stocks the all-important Monster Cable these days? Did you know they sell Napster and iTunes cards? MP3 players and iPod Minis? TiVo boxes and DVD recorders? Well, they do, and they're affordable, too (even more so with the store's discount-giving credit card). We very nearly drove home with their 26-inch HDTV set from Samsung ($699), but common sense prevailed--for now. Granted, other stores may have a wider selection of electronic toys--but they don't sell Kleenex and toilet-bowl cleaner to boot. Indeed, we sense a rare sort of enlightened capitalism here at Target. Plus, the wide aisles are navigable even during peak shopping periods, and the employees are gentler and more attentive than in other circuit-city departments. And we've heard here and there that they give a lot of our hard-earned money to charitable causes.

Much as we'll always cherish and continue to support the Cities' independent video stores, we have to admit that it's awfully hard for them to compete with a chain-owned Uptown outfit whose parent company recently anointed it as a "flagship store." In other words, the second-largest video-rental corporation in the country (after Blockbuster) made a list of the most esoteric and/or out-of-print video titles and called in copies of those titles from their Hollywoods all over the state, stockpiling the returns at the flagship on the edge of Kenwood, where the snootiest renters are presumed to live. Thus was born a rental warehouse whose holdings in both video formats are vast enough to include a lot of rarities that you'd struggle to find under the same roof of any other store in town. Tapes of films not yet available on DVD abound (particularly in the foreign section). And disc-wise, we damn near drool over the shelf devoted to dozens of DVDs from the highbrow Criterion label.

The connoisseur's purveyor of world cinema for the home retains its long-held title the old-fashioned way: by accumulating more and more and more titles. It still pains us to note that some of the tapes that melted in the fire here a few years back may well never be replaced, as even the savviest DVD producers haven't gotten around to burning copies of old obscurities from Bergman and Ozu, Zhang and Renoir. But the discs, which now outnumber the cassettes, are piled floor to ceiling here--some so new that the films haven't even opened in area theaters yet. (Shhhh.) The method of "organization" is still highly mysterious, but it doesn't much matter since owner Om Arora is his own walking encyclopedia of global film; he's almost always in the store, and he'll gladly tell you if he has what you're looking for and where to find it. And Arora takes requests, too.

Their nifty new digs at the edge of the Wedge haven't curbed their enthusiasm for the platters that matter: ultra-rare DVD gems such as Antonioni's The Passenger, Oscar Micheaux's Within Our Gates, Lars von Trier's The Idiots, and many others you simply won't find anywhere else in the state. Serious about cinema, staffers are even prepping a reading area--stocked with film studies tomes to expand one's must-see list--in the corner of the store. (Cineastes who read! Vive la révolution!) The selection gets better every week, but remains highly discerning: The folks at Cinema Revolution are not completists. But they are admirably willing to surrender the all-DVD distinction in the service of stocking 10 or so videotapes of films by particularly beloved auteurs (e.g., David Lynch, Jean-Luc Godard) that seem unlikely to make it to disc anytime soon. The "inner circle" membership at Cinema Revolution will make your DVD player spin, and your head, too: twenty bucks for a card that gets you 10 rentals (or $35 for 20 rentals). And they're open until midnight every day, which is really rad.