We think this classy museum emporium is just about the best place to buy anything, but it's unparalleled in the area of greeting cards, thanks to the exquisite eye of Janice Bartczak, the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts' Director of Retail Operations (a fancy-schmancy name for head buyer). No Hallmark here. Rather, Bartczak stocks The Store with an assortment of single and boxed cards by makers such as KOCO NY; Peaceable Kingdom Press of Berkeley, California; Galison of New York; Knock Knock of Venice, California; Borealis Press of Surry, Maine; and Designfold of New York. And in the event that you dislike the cards on hand -- highly doubtful -- The Store also sells a DIY card-making kit. Even we jaded media types aren't immune to The Store's charms; on a recent visit, we succumbed to the allure of a set of Opera Notes cards by Galison featuring to-die-for illustrations by artist John Martinez.
When we stepped into this chic Seventh Avenue secondhand shop, it was as if a time machine had transported us back to an era when the Chairman of the Board ruled the world and cocktail culture was king. In our disorientation, we decided it was time to ditch our trendy obsession with '80s fashion and get a style that's more Rat Pack than Brat Pack.
Goodwill and vintage clothiers can be hit-or-miss, but our newfound friends at Retro Redux aren't; they clearly know which estate sales to hit, as there are ample samples of swanky suits and other attire from the Camelot era. Bingo, baby, we just found a smoking jacket worthy of Hef himself, as well as a two-piece sharkskin number with just the right amount of shine. To go along with our Chez Nous style, we acquired a pair of two-tone wingtips, a cigarette case, cufflinks, and enough martini shakers, quadraphonic stereo equipment, and copies of Look magazine to remake our apartment into one shagadelic bachelor pad.
Groovy.
We confess. As much as we live for the exhilaration of the table games like Texas Hold'em and blackjack at the multitude of casinos in the Valley, we sometimes like to simply slip off to the slots section with a few dozen rolls of nickels, for a slower-paced way of wasting our kid's college fund. Many a lost weekend has been spent in front of these one-armed bandits, working the levers in a zombie-like rapture, and feeding in loose change until our fingers have been dirtied by the coins. Many casinos try to get us spending with machines featuring various licensed properties like
The Addams Family or
The Price Is Right. Frankly, we're sickened by this crass commercialization, and prefer the more generic -- yet still exciting -- slot machines produced by Atronic Casino Technology, a Scottsdale-based company that produces themed slots with thrilling names like "Angels & Devils CASH FEVER" and "Black Thunder." They've got all the bells and whistles of an ordinary machine, but without the endorsement of Bob Barker.
If only Atronic would offer public tours of its headquarters, so we could learn some tricks to landing that one gigantic progressive jackpot that's been eluding us. After all, baby needs a full ride to Rutgers.
Phoenix is a city of pawnshops and drive-through liquor stores. There seems to be one or the other on every corner, thus allowing you to pawn that Rolex, then cruise on down the street to grab a bottle of Maker's Mark without ever having to get out of your BMW. Brilliant, eh? Of course, not all drive-through liquor stores are created equal, and the best in town is also one of the best liquor stores in general, Sportsman's Fine Wines and Spirits at 32nd Street and Camelback Road. The folks at Sportsman's are serious cork dorks, likker geeks, and so on, with an outstanding selection of wines and spirits from all over the world, which makes for a combo of brains and product that can't be beat. This ain't the sort of place you roll up on to purchase a case of PBR. No, sir. But if you can't recall the name of that Argentine Cabernet you went gaga over at the last wine tasting, and want to grab a couple of liters without getting out of your Spiderman pajamas, then Sportsman's drive-through window is for you.
So you've dumped all your hard-earned nicks into Lobstermania, Betty Boop's Big Hit, and Wheel of Fortune machines, and you're feeling lower than William H. Macy's loser character in
The Cooler. You're down to your last few bucks -- just enough for a Lone Star and a lone butt. Where to go in Phoenix that would perfectly mirror the murky mood created by your losing streak and let you anonymously score both cig and swig without having to get out of your car?
Try Hermanos Liquor and Market, a dive of a drive-through liquor/convenience mart in downtown Phoenix. Reminiscent of a funky 1940s film noir movie set, Hermanos caters to a clientele on its last few fumes. The night we drove through this picaresque pit stop, we were entertained by what appeared to be several ladies of nocturnal endeavors looking for a loosy and a bleary-eyed guy with a brown paper bag way worse off than we were. You couldn't buy this kind of ambiance even if you had all the moola back you just fed to those money-sucking machines.
We're always crunched for time these days, so to free up spots on our schedule, we've combined two of our main passions: boozing and buying. Since the security fascists at Scottsdale Fashion Square wouldn't let us flit around with Fat Tires in our fists, we're gonna try purchasing while plastered on Wednesday evenings and during the day from Fridays through Sundays at the Valley's largest outdoor swap meet. Food vendors serve up drafts like Budweiser Select and Coors Light in 16-ounce cups for $2.50 (or "The Big One," a bladder-busting 24-ouncer, for $5), as well as cans of Budweiser and Bud Light for $3, and imports like Tecate and Corona for $3. Golf carts loaded with giant kegs of Miller Lite and Miller High Life also cruise the rows, meeting you while you're haggling over cowboy hats, baseball bats, or statues of cats. A vast collection of other marked-down merchandise is also in abundance, be it dirt-cheap video games, boundless bling-bling jewelry, affordably priced Chuck Taylors, or a hardware-store-size selection of new and used tools.
Avoid stumbling into any stacks of home electronics, however, because if you break it, you buy it.
We love to drink, and thanks to Plush, now everyone knows it. The Tempe clothing and accessories store knows folks like beer. Whether you're a patriot (Samuel Adams), a foreigner (Guinness) or simply a cheap bastard faking it as a hipster (Pabst Blue Ribbon), Plush Clothing has what you need to dress as a beer lover while not coming off as a drunk. Of course, if you are drunk, wearing a Mickey's belt buckle will make ordering at the bar easier when your speech is slurring. The store carries items like Coors Light hats, Pabst Blue Ribbon belt buckles, Schlitz shirts and Rolling Rock mouse pads -- all in the name of beer pride. Oh yeah, and Plush has non-beer-related clothing as well. So if you need a belt to put that fancy red Olde English belt buckle on, the sober staffers at Plush can hook you up.
Located in a battered 1950s-era strip mall in central Phoenix, Gifts Anon is like a Hallmark store for the rehab set. Twelve-step-program-themed paraphernalia, some of it sad and strange, fill the aisles here: teddy bears emblazoned with the Narcotics Anonymous logo; blankets embroidered with the Serenity Prayer; and, of course, Harley-Davidson-licensed coffee mugs and tee shirts with messages of encouragement for those trying to stay clean. Racks of greeting cards offer terse congratulations for sobriety anniversaries ("You made it 30 days!"), and shelves of self-help books are arranged under section headers like "Cocaine/Crack," "Anxiety/Phobias/Stress," and "Money Issues."
Our favorite item: the comic book titled "Attack of the Relapse Man." The juxtaposition of gift shop sentimentality with topics like sex addiction and alcoholism makes for endless tragicomedy, but only those of us without compulsive tendencies are allowed to giggle.
One of the few independent businesses that has survived Sunnyslope is High Society, a "smoke 'n' stuff" shop that has sat in the same strip mall for 21 years. Sure, other smoke shops -- especially the big chains -- have more pop culture kitsch, like Korn posters and porcelain ashtrays with pot leaves on them.
But this is the place that sold posters of The Cramps and T.S.O.L. back in '85. And when it comes to, uh, tobacco paraphernalia, High Society's original collection of glass bongs, hookahs, bubblers and hand pipes remains the most colorful, smooth-hitting, and reasonably priced in the Valley. High Society even has a guy who blows custom glass pieces on Fridays, and a "black light room" for your viewing pleasure.
As far as we're concerned, High Society smokes the competition.
Having a bad hair day? Why not do what all the celebs do when they don't feel like messing with all those follicles and all that hairspray? Slip on a falsie. The place to unearth such wonders is Panorama Wigs. With more than 3,000 wigs in stock and a personal stylist on hand, you're destined to walk in as a foxy brunette and glide out a fiery redhead, toting a blonde bombshell in a box under your arm. All these shimmering locks are affordable, too. From a quick-fix 'do priced at just $25 to an extravagant coif at $120, you can go incognito to work and spend the day counting colleagues who trip over your new beauty. When it comes to fake hair, think Panorama -- because you're worth it.
It started with "manscaping" on
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, and
The 40-Year-Old Virgin sealed the deal. Back hair has always been a problem in certain circles, but now male body hair in general is as out of style as a mullet. You can shave or pluck, gentlemen, but really, the way to take it all off is wax. It won't be cheap, and it will hurt, but you can minimize both factors at Carsten Institute, where a student will be happy to pour hot wax on you and rip it off, along with your body hair. Don't worry, this won't be some first-day kid. Carsten -- best known for its affiliation with Aveda products -- puts esthetician students through two to three months of training before setting them loose on your hairy hiney. Come to think of it, that's the only part of the body we didn't think to ask about, when we procured a price list. But here's a rundown, sans butt:
Back: $35. Chest: $35. Arms: $15. Legs: $50. Bikini: $25. Yes, you read it right -- bikini.
Take our advice: Pop a few over-the-counter painkillers first. Beauty is a pain.
Finding hair-care products for a woman of color can be frustratingly difficult in any area of Phoenix, except -- by virtue of its more diverse population -- the west side. Fortunately, there's BBB Fashion, a cavernous clothing/jewelry/hair marketplace located in an old strip mall at 52nd Avenue and Indian School Road. Here, amid long aisles packed with gels, pressing oils, wigs and hair extensions ranging from trackless braids to pricey fusion treatments, a dry-haired beauty can find all the necessities the local Walgreens, Target and even Sally's seem to believe nobody in Phoenix has ever even heard of. Are you gellin', Wal-Mart?
Sure, Stiletto Formal is a killer band. It bills itself as "indie sex-core" (apparently a merger between Tilly and the Wall's serenade-style melodies and the Blood Brothers' art damage spasticity). Throw in some Mars Volta-ish vocals, and you've got Stiletto. But it takes more than talent to make it in a music biz where image sells records; while we're concerned with the music, record labels are looking for stylish clothing and cutting-edge hair. We're pleased to report that Stiletto Formal's got both. All six of these hipsters have perfect indie-rock coifs, courtesy of Orange Salon. The band knew how important good hair is in the indie-rock world, and didn't trust its locks with any other stylists. But what with buying a van and expensive touring, the rockers were low on fundage. Luckily, Orange Salon took one look at the musicians and offered to sponsor them. So the next time you see the stylish six rocking new hairdos, you can swing by Orange Salon and say, "Stiletto Formal sent me."
Don't forget your cowbell.
Listen up, recruit. That unkempt mop-top of yours isn't going to pass muster in the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marine Corps. Get yourself square by double-timing it down to Roman Aronov's haircutting establishment, where the Uzbekian émigré and former Soviet Army barber will wage a surgical strike against your flowing tresses with military precision. Aronov's been chopping locks for more than 15 years, and can usually be found working on the many soldiers or sailors who hear about his shop via word of mouth. Prices are affordable -- even with military pay cuts -- with $9 regular cuts, $10 flattops, and $11 head shaves. If you're not looking to make your hair be all it can be, the 32-year-old tonsorial artist (or his assistants) can still make over your mane into one of a hundred styles, including bowl cuts, Princetons, or square backs. And while Roman might start chatting about the current situation in the Middle East or the latest news from the war in Iraq, don't worry -- he won't get distracted and leave your head FUBAR. Dismissed.
At Papa Joe's (formerly Video Cuts), owner Joseph Lazzara, who moved here from Sicily in 1958, will do anything you ask to your head, as long as it's legal and within the realm of possibility. Papa Joe is famous for cutting all manner of designs into willing buzz cuts. He's barbered heads to look like basketballs and baseballs, cut the Twin Towers or 911 on scalps, added Nike symbols, Christmas trees, maple leaves and flags. You want a Bart Simpson or a Bat signal or a Superman symbol? You've got it. With the flags and whatever else is appropriate, Lazzara will also put in color. "That way, the red, white and blue really stands out," he promises. We asked if he'd cut a skull and crossbones or Best Of into the scalp of a willing New Times schlub, and Lazzara said, "Sure, I'll do whatever you want, any time you want!" Would you ask Sheriff Joe Arpaio to come over so you could cut a target on his head as a publicity stunt? Kidding!
We don't generally rejoice when a big chain comes to town, but we can't help but get bubbly about the impending arrival of Lush, our favorite bath and beauty products shop. The Vancouver-based company is reportedly picky about where it pitches its tent, which is why we're so excited to hear that it's chosen Scottsdale Fashion Square as one of its next spots. Lush is so, well, luscious because all of the company's products are homemade and totally natural. Our current favorite is the Think Pink bath bomb, and just to give you a taste (or a whiff) of what Lush is all about, here is the description of Think Pink from the Lush Web site:
"Darlings, this is the ultimate in fuchsia pink baths. Four candy flowers top this marvel of utter pinkness and, as it fizzes furiously, it unleashes a shower of pink confetti into the bathwater. We're using our brand new favourite tonka bean essential oil because it smells so wickedly fabulous, darlings! It also helps you to get in touch with your deeper emotions. Do be careful whom you meet for lunch just after you bathe! We don't want to go eleasing our deeper emotions all over the starter and upsetting the other ladies, do we? (Or do we?)."
Until Lush formally arrives here, you can order its products -- or just read about them -- on its site, at www.lush.com. That's also the place for the latest updates on the shop's Scottsdale arrival.
We could have called this award "Best Reason to Go to a Local Farmers' Market," because that's where you'll find a sweet young woman named Kari, selling her homemade soaps, bath teas and scrubs. We love the samples of soap she's pressed on us, and a friend says you can no longer drive a truck through her pores, since she's used Emelmahae's face masque. But our absolute favorite product -- the best beauty find of the year -- is the Almond Shea Sugar Scrub.
We did our homework, so we could explain to you that the scrub is made of almond meal and turbinado sugar that "delivers powerful moisture and aids with cell regeneration," according to the little company's Web site. But all you really need to know is that this sugar scrub feels great -- grainier than the stuff we bought at Origins -- and smells even better. Best of all, it cost only $14 for a 10-ounce jar of the stuff. It should have lasted us at least six months, but we keep having to go back to buy more; we can't stop slathering it on.
The whimsical creatures Roy Wasson Valle silk-screens onto primary-colored tee shirts seem vaguely disturbing -- one looks like a Cheshire cat on crack, another appears to be a bear that resembles the demonic rabbit from Donnie Darko -- but they're strangely endearing, too. Wear one around, and you're sure to gather compliments all day long. Expect people to ask you where you got it. And expect to give vague answers, too, since Wasson Valle hasn't yet leaped from local artist to streetwear mogul. So far, we've only seen these shirts for sale at 515 gallery on Roosevelt Street (when Wasson Valle had an opening there several months ago), and, more recently, at MADE, the boutique just down the street. Get 'em while you can, if you can.
When you first walk into Sophistikatz Boutique, you might find one of the three sisters who own the business rearranging clothing racks or meticulously setting up an antique shoe display. They care about image (after all, they do "image consulting"), so they want their clothes to catch the eye right away. And they do! Everything is separated by season, so you can find things like a handmade crocheted winter scarf or a designer red leather miniskirt any time of the year. Whether your taste is modern, baggy street thug, or vintage cool cat, Sophistikatz stocks your style. It's got original, edgy, urban designs by co-owner Yasmin Ibrahim, classic silk button-down shirts from the '60s with funky retro patterns, obscure European summer dresses, and accessories galore. And the price tags are just as appealing as the clothes, with most items ranging from $15 to $30.
We liked Paisley Violin when it was on Roosevelt Street, but now that it's on Grand, we're in love. We're not sure what it is -- the owners are the same, the place looks similar, if a little less dingy -- but still low-rent enough to make the grungiest scenester happy. Maybe it's Pete Deise's metalwork (his studio's nearby) or the fact that there are actually people inhabiting a business on Grand Avenue on a Wednesday afternoon in August. The location is perfect, truly walking distance (even by a Phoenician's standards) from some of the best new galleries popping up along this diagonal strip. We can't wait to go back.
Too many times, we've fallen in love with some gorgeous artwork at a gallery on Roosevelt Row, but only had several dollars to spend, not several hundred. But MADE has stuff we'd gladly fork over our last few bucks to take home. A carefully edited selection of unique jewelry, tee shirts, and greeting cards appealingly displayed alongside some choice reads. A wonderful side note: occasional "themed" art exhibits, including a series of birdhouses, then boxes, by celebrated local artists like Joe Willie Smith and Sue Chenoweth. MADE has merch that's artistic and affordable -- ah, they've found our sweet spot.
After at least one turn as a conventional coffee house, Fair Trade Cafe now answers to a higher authority. Conveniently located in the bottom of the Post Roosevelt complex, Fair Trade is a comfortable place to get a strong cup of coffee, or a bag of beans. Bonus: The organic coffee is sold to benefit charity, as Fair Trade is run by the Trinity Cathedral next door. The art on the walls is local, and while this place may not be as wild as some locales on Roosevelt, it's a great place to relax and watch the scenery out the big windows.
We already know that Stinkweeds owner Kimber Lanning has good taste in music -- she also owns Modified Arts, the downtown gallery-slash-music venue that's hosted edgy acts like Arcade Fire and Wolf Eyes. So whenever we drop by Stinkweeds to find some new music to fall in love with, we know we're in good hands. Lanning herself works the counter at both locations during the week, but she also relies on employees who are just as passionate about the sounds. Chat up the staff for the inside dish on indie rock, punk, electronica and underground hip-hop, or, if you're feeling shy, just don some headphones and lose yourself at one of the listening stations -- they're the city's most eclectic.
Who isn't a sucker for a good sale? Seems like Zia always has CDs marked down -- and not just older titles. If you stop by with a shopping list of some of the most in-demand new releases, chances are you'll snag some for a couple bucks less than you'd expect. Better yet, Zia has an overwhelming selection of used discs, which are handily filed right along with brand-new ones. So while you may not take a chance on something for, say, 15 bucks, if the asking price is seven or eight, it's a lot easier to be open-minded.
Have you noticed lately that some boys are wearing jeans so tight it looks like they've raided their sisters' closets? They probably have. We haven't seen jeans this tight since the '80s, but even then the boys stuck to the boys' department. No more. Now the boys are wearing girls' jeans, regardless of sexual preference. (And trust us, we've heard from confused parents -- not that there's anything wrong with it, but why would a straight boy dress like a girl? You can believe him -- it's really just a trend.) And when something's trendy, we think the best way to get it out of your (or their) system is at Buffalo Exchange, the King (or Queen, or King wearing Queen's clothing) of secondhand stores. We hear the boys regularly shop for girls' Sevens and Diesels at Buffalo, where you can find a used pair of jeans (boys' or girls') for a fraction of the original cost. Which means you'll have plenty in your bank account to accommodate the next trend.
If you want to see the local versions of Susan, Gabrielle and Edie, just look here, among the Barbie tee shirts, chandelier earrings and jeweled sandals. This north Scottsdale boutique has aisles of clothing and accessories for the bored, spray-tanned and Botoxed demographic. There are rhinestone-studded platform wedges, beaded tube tops, Jackie O sunglasses, and dresses cut low for better display of surgically augmented breasts. Nearly everything in Electric Ladyland is metallic, rhinestoned, or hot pink. Absolutely nothing here is office attire; if you have a job outside the home, this is not the store for you. These are clothes you buy with your hubby's platinum Amex and wear while you lounge around your 6,500-square-foot custom home, ogling the pool boy.
In an ordinary one-story office building, surrounded by other bland office complexes, hides a workspace oozing decadent glamour. Designs by Randall is a playland of vibrant fabrics and glistening rhinestones, and rack upon rack of shimmering gowns waiting to light up a competition dance floor. For 19 years, Randall Christensen and Henry Vela have partnered up to design dancewear for local ballroom competitions and big-budget motion pictures. In fact, Hollywood has knocked more than once, commissioning DBR to design gowns for such films as Shall We Dance? with Jennifer Lopez, Take the Lead with Antonio Banderas, and Dance With Me with Vanessa Williams. Both Crystal Cruises and Ballroom Boot Camp, a new TLC series, have also been added to Randall's cushy list of clients looking for one or more custom gowns, which range in price from $1,200 to $3,400. What, you thought glamour came cheap?
Your first pair of high heels is a beautiful thing. When you were younger, you'd runway up and down the hall in your mother's pumps, feeling tall, sexy and confident, as if you were the queen of the world. And then came the day when you were old enough to purchase your very own pair. We'd like to suggest you do that at Smokin' Lingerie. And once you're there, don't bother with a common one- or two-inch spike. Reach to the heavens in shining red patent leather! Push the envelope, turn heads, and go for six-inch stilettos, or even nine-inch platforms. Smokin' Lingerie offers such a wide variety of pumps and slides, you may end up walking out with a second, third and fourth pair. Even the hard-to-find women's Size 12 is on hand, er, foot. But practice your stride before prancing down the street. We don't want you stumbling, breaking an ankle, and killing any chance of picking up Mr. Right.
There was a time, we must admit, when we wanted to wear clogs but didn't, afraid someone might think we were a lesbian. We got over that as soon as we slipped a toe into a black leather Dansko.
These days, it's so hip to be gay we wouldn't mind being mistaken for bi-, but now all the lesbians seem to be wearing Manolo Blahniks.
They don't know what they're missing.
The Shoe Mill was then and is now the best place in the Valley to buy clogs. You can find everything from Naot to Josef Seibel, clogs covered in faux pony, flowers, plaid wool. Red Mary Janes. Our favorite is the Dansko Professional -- classic clog style with a closed back. Sure, the white ones look like something only a nurse would wear. But you should see our black patent leather Professionals. Nothing professional about them, we promise.
Now, if only the Shoe Mill started carrying Manolos . . .
We're not ready to canonize Objects owner Tina Liston just yet. But we're hard-pressed to find a clothing retailer with as big a heart. Since opening last year at the Biltmore, Objects -- which sells hard-to-find designer clothing, and harder-to-find home furnishings from around the world -- has held in-store art shows and charity benefits for tsunami relief (raising more than $3,000) and ALS research, and has a silent auction in the works to raise money for Habitat for Humanity. (As of press time, she was still plotting her Katrina relief efforts.) All the while, Liston and her cohorts are scouring the globe -- from Africa to Peru, and southeast Asia to Costa Rica -- in search of handmade goods like textiles, pillows, ceramics and artifacts, and (get this!) actually paying fair prices before bringing them back stateside. "I'm just happy to be able to filter some of the income from my business in a philanthropic way," Liston says. "But what I'm most pleased with is how much our customers appreciate it." And we do!
This Best of Phoenix is brought to you by a metrosexual man in Mephisto shoes, Bugachi shirt and Indigo Palms jeans. Suggested retail: $590. Last Chance price: $59. That's a 90 percent discount, just about average for this clearinghouse dive for leftovers, returns and misfit dolls from the nation's Nordstrom department stores.
Yes, it is a dive, something akin to a Tuscaloosa swap meet on hillbilly heroin. But take heart, because beyond the grabby bitches, both male and female, there is still a majority of civilized bargain shoppers. The Last Chance experience can be fun if accepted as camp, or slumming, or even whoring for the greater good. And dangit, for a Mr. Metrosexy, looking this good for $59 may be the greatest good there is.
For years, we've waited for someone to open a cute boutique near Arizona State University, a place where it's just as much fun to browse as to buy, and where even a cash-strapped coed can find a stylish little something to spruce up that outfit from Old Navy.
And then we stumbled into Here on the Corner. We love the fact that this little space just north of campus is packed with the work of local designers, but our favorite part is that you can find super-cute accessories for $10 and under. There's a huge selection of trendy sunglasses, all priced at $10. Many bracelets and rings are just $5. Some things are a little pricier, but obviously worth it: You can find a hand-embroidered pair of jeans, something that might cost several hundreds of dollars at a ritzy joint in north Scottsdale, for under $100. The friendly staff didn't mind when we picked through just about everything in the shop, finally landing on a $5 toe ring.
Now we can only hope for more cute boutiques. Last time we looked, there was space for rent across the street from Here on the Corner, in the new ASU Foundation building. Any takers?
Looking for the ideal housewares gift for your too-cool-for-school pal? Head over to Artafax in the Kierland Commons shopping plaza for everything from cool place settings to knickknacks that will knock your smock off. What moved us about the store for Gucci hipsters on a recent visit was the inordinate number of far-out clocks on its walls, many by Dutch designer Hank Stallinga and British designer Deborah Jedwab. One cylindrical timepiece has a stationary 12 at the top with a swinging 6 at the bottom. A silver, rectangular clock that we particularly liked has a swinging rabbit's-foot chain at the bottom. There was a compass-like one with 14 gears showing. Another has mirrors at 1, 4, 6, 9 and 11. There was one in the shape of an exploding atom. The prices for these sculptures that tell time ranged from $80 to $250, cheap (if you ask us) for functional art that you'll dig for a long time. Of course, there's the standard cuckoo clock, too, but you will want to go très chic at the stylish Artafax -- or you may as well buy your wall watch at Wal-Mart.
If there'd been any way to buy one of those light-blue Tiffany boxes on the black market, we could've saved a mint by snagging the box and heading over to the discount jewelry mart for a cheapo trinket. Alas, you've gotta pay to collect a Tiffany box.
Sometimes, there's no substitute. Yep, we did something so wrong, we were forced to go all the way up the ladder to the Jeweler of Jewelers for a make-up gift. Okay, okay, we admit it, damn it all; what you think we did doesn't even compare to the offense in question. We had no damn choice. Anything short of Tiffany's, and we'd have been up the canal without a bobble.
So, tail between legs, we headed to the Scottsdale branch of the jeweler to the rich and famous. Once inside, we had one question: "How much do I have to spend to get one of them blue boxes?" A nice lady behind the counter looked sympathetic, as her haughty colleagues glared at us with that "Well, if you have to ask . . ." look. The Queen of Compassion pointed to her own earrings, which resembled Tahitian pearls but were really stainless-steel jobbies for a mere $65. "Of course, we have items like money clips for less, but that won't do, will it?" she said, clicking her tongue three times. No, it wouldn't!
To put those tight-assed colleagues of hers in their place, we blurted: "What's the most expensive item in the store?" It was a $250,000 diamond engagement ring. We settled for something on the low end of in-between -- a $486 crystal heart on a platinum chain -- and got the hell out of there!
Fortunately, the locks on the doors hadn't been changed by the time we got home with our little blue box.
It's kind of sad to admit that we really researched this, but indeed, we did -- that's how hooked we are on magazines. The god of glossies still hasn't answered our prayer for an independent, can't-miss newsstand downtown, so for now, we schlep to the crown jewel of Mill Avenue's chain-store lineup for our fix. Quite simply, there are just more racks here, period, which means that every category is robust. More news and fashion, more sports, music, and queer-friendly titles, plus a cheeky selection of indie and foreign mags with amusing names like Artichoke, Swindle, Theme, and Anthem. The more, the merrier. Because as any true magazine junkie knows, it's all about quality and quantity.
The kind folks at Changing Hands are so helpful. They publish a monthly newsletter, complete with a full listing of the events held at the store, which include costumed storytelling for kids, grown-up authors like Scott Simon and Hillary Clinton, and a variety of writing classes. Ask a staff member for a book, and it's in your hands before you realize she's left and returned. Need a card, or a gift? They've got it, along with irresistible store tee shirts that read "Fictional Character" and "Will Work for Books."
So we weren't surprised when, on a recent trip to the store, an employee helpfully suggested that we rename the Best of Phoenix award for Best Bookstore to "The Changing Hands Best Bookstore Award," recognizing that CH has certainly won its share of BOPs over the years.
Good idea, we said, as we struggled to the cash register with our stack of new and used books. But usually, when you do that, the award is given to someone else. Why would we give Changing Hands the Changing Hands Award? Leave the "Best of" business to us. We'll leave the book business to Changing Hands. And the "Best of" for Best Bookstore. Again.
With the passing of George Chamberlain in January, Arizona lost its dean of booksellers. The erudite Mr. Chamberlain held court in the same location for 40 years, and now his daughter Ann Chamberlain Maroe has relocated from Oregon and her own bookshop to continue her father's legacy. There are many Valley bookshops where one can pick up a copy of any current best seller or last year's Stephen King novel, but the Antiquarian Shop is a real bookstore for dead-serious bibliophiles. Here you'll find George Washington's autograph and a copy of Cicero's Cato Major printed by Benjamin Franklin in 1773. The shop also handles the work of the modern masters with first editions of all the greats, including Hemingway and Steinbeck. Many rare-book stores specialize in specific areas like history or the sciences, but the Antiquarian Shop offers the best it can find in all fields with an emphasis on condition. If it's $2.98 cover prices you're seeking, then head to the bargain tables at Borders; but if you want to hold history in your hands, this is the place to go more than once upon a time.
Here in the Valley, the comic book landscape seems to be dominated by ginormous Atomic-powered retail establishments that are "All About Books and Comics." These titans of the sequential art set draw teenagers and other socially maladjusted hooligans from Tempe to Tolleson into their establishments with the latest multi-paneled, four-color adventures from a cadre of superheroes, or exclusive signing sessions with big-name artists like Marvel editor-in-chief Joe Quesada. Meanwhile, Moryha and Mike Banks -- owners of Samurai Comics -- have survived and thrived in the shadow of these comic colossi over the past three years. Operating their smallish shop out of a cramped strip mall a few doors down from Gay Denny's, the couple has developed a cultlike group of regulars who've graced their shop looking for the newest from major publishers like DC, as well as harder-to-find titles like
Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and
Eightball. The Bankses often book well-attended appearances by such obscure small-press artists as James Kochalka (author of the zany sketch diary
American Elf) and Craig Thompson (who's penned such graphic novels as
Blankets).
Business has been so good, Moryha and Mike are in the process of opening a new location at 107th Avenue and Indian School Road. Looks like the underdogs sometimes win out in the end after all.
When you get right down to it, you have to be pretty cheap these days to want to actually rent the video or DVD rather than buy it. After you rent the damn thing and bring it back late, it'll cost you about the same amount of scratch it would have if you'd bought it new from the beginning. (This considering what we now know about Blockbuster's wack-assed "no late fees" policy.) And anyway, Hollywood Video, Blockbuster, and even the mom-and-pops all stock pretty much the same old crap. Wanna see The Ring Two or xXx: State of the Union starring Ice Cube? Those other guys have got 'em by the score. But if you're interested in the collected shorts of Fatty Arbuckle, or Fritz Lang's Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler, or anything the least bit obscure, Burton Barr's first-floor video shelves, stocked with hundreds of classic and foreign films, are for you. Your inner cheapskate will be satisfied as well, 'cause "rentals" are free, so long as you have your library card handy.
Sometimes, the whole mall scene in the Valley gets depressing, with the search for originality. Let's face it: That platter you got at Pottery Barn might be super-cute, but it's sitting on the Crate & Barrel dining room table of several thousand other super-cute shoppers. That's why we love Haus. When the owners moved from the street to the mall last year, we were deeply suspicious. But a recent trip thrilled us -- Haus is better than ever, Jonathan Adler's designs firmly in place, and even if you don't have any cash, a Haus call is worth it for a look-see. Our favorite addition is Hot Haus, a budding floral operation run out of one corner of the store. Now you can find something to stick in that Jonathan Adler vase.
Sure, flowers are pretty, but they wilt. Wouldn't you rather have a little nosh? For a long time, we ignored the offerings of the Brownie Connection, turned off by the boring packaging. But now we must admit we've learned, you can't judge a brownie by its cover. When a friend finally shoved one (okay, several) of these under our noses, we gobbled the cream cheese, nut and cookie varieties, as well as the plain brownie, then raced for the milk, mumbling our approval through a sugary haze.
Unlike flowers, old brownies never die. At least, not for three months. Just make sure you wrap them tightly and store them in the freezer.
Greta the Weimaraner greets you at the door of the store that bears her name, and she'll follow you around as you browse through a fab collection of dog and cat gear you won't find at PETsMART. There are gift sets of pink and blue baby items for girl puppies and boy puppies, gift baskets of pet bath items, pink velvet dog dresses, Hawaiian-print dog shirts, several lines of premium dog foods, toys, collars, bowls, cat houses, pet carriers that look like designer handbags, and animal-themed art on the walls. Greta's is the place to buy a gift when you and your dog-child get invited to a canine birthday party or puppy shower. It's not the place to bring anyone who thinks there's something wrong with a dog napping on the sofa while wearing a leather collar with his/her name spelled out in rhinestone letters.
Our pick for the most spectacular tree found in the Valley is the jacaranda, with its spectacular summer show of vivid lilac-blue trumpet-shaped flowers. Many Valley nurseries carry them, but the best selection of jacarandas and all other varieties is at Moon Valley Nurseries. Palms, citrus and desert favorites like paloverde are here by the thousands -- visiting a Moon Valley location is like hiking through a national forest. Owner/founder Les Blake started it all by selling Christmas trees 10 years ago and now is said to own more than a million trees. For those of you who can kill almost anything in nature, the nursery says even you should be able to grow a mesquite or Ficus nitida tree. Even more fun than selecting your trees is watching the Moon Valley crews plant them -- we're convinced these guys could dig to the center of the Earth within five minutes.
Granted, it's tough to top Desert Botanical Garden's annual spring and fall plant sales for snagging rare cactuses and euphorbia, but where do you find 'em the other 50 weeks of the year? We go to Desert Gardens Nursery, on Cave Creek Road just north of the 101. This blooming oasis, lovingly tended by a helpful and personable man named Chris Brecht, carries the sort of scarce succulents that are usually available only to wholesalers and landscape architects. In addition to healthy specimens of Sonoran staples like saguaros, totem poles, and Mexican fence posts, Desert Gardens stocks harder-to-find stuff like cardons (the Mexican cousin of the saguaro), the fat and sassy nasty boy named Trichocereus terscheckii (a.k.a. the Argentine saguaro), Joshua trees, Mexican White Thorns, Argentine Toothpicks, and Aloe vanbelini (which resembles something out of an H.R. Giger nightmare). On a recent visit, we also marveled at an eight-foot-tall Blue Monstrosus, humongous agaves and aloes such as Kalanchoe beharensis, and one of the largest barrel cactuses we've seen in our entire cactus-loving lives. And if Chris doesn't have something on hand -- like, say, a Hildewintera aureispina or a Queen of the Night -- he can probably get you one.
We admit it: We live in a house overflowing with rococo kitsch, the sort of stuff you'd find in a brothel that had been decorated by Charles Nelson Reilly. Velveteen draperies; gilded urn lamps; claw-foot everything. And until recently, we thought we had the edge on cool home furnishings, because we shop weekly at The Garden Party, a mini-museum of great furniture, wall art, and gewgaws from several recent eras. That is, until we spotted the visual-merchandising manager from a giant chain of department stores at The Garden Party the other day, pawing through this hip shop's 11 big dealer booths in search of stuff for his stores. If this guy knows about our fave shop, we must be onto something. We just hope we get there before he does, because missing out might mean not owning, for example, the giant plaster cherub we brought home from a recent Garden Party visit. Our flawless 1930s sofa, covered in rich burgundy suede, set us back a whopping $200, and the 1950s salon hairdryer we bought for our sister (who put it in place of her ratty old Barcalounger) cost half as much. Garden Party's several dealers offer a cross section of stuff from all eras of cool, from inexpensive Bakelite jewelry to Melmac dishware; higher-end furnishings to shabby chic fixer-uppers. We go often, especially now that we know that those in the know (read: display queens) are in on our best secret. You can be, too.
Your garden needs one of David Bruce's birdhouses. Bruce makes each of his avian abodes by hand, in a shop in the back of his central Phoenix store, from old wood, doorknobs, pieces of tin, and whatever else he scavenges from abandoned buildings and alleys. Some are made in the manner of English cottages, others like Spanish mission churches, and still others sport the minimal lines of mid-century modern ranch houses. Birds seldom get to occupy these dwellings, though. These houses are objets d'art, too nice to mess up with wren poop. Bruce also makes garden furniture, and dog and cat houses. He says he has customers who have dozens of his birdhouses in their gardens and homes, and they still come into his shop to buy more. "For some people, these birdhouses are like Lay's potato chips," he says. "They can't buy just one."
Need a pair of great tits? They're birds, pervert, and just one of dozens of varieties we found at Pratt's, a family-owned and operated business that started as a feed store back in 1936 but is now, as the staff tee shirts say, "the Unofficial Glendale Zoo." As the outskirts of town have shifted, so has Pratt's marketing emphasis. Instead of feed, Pratt's now specializes in birds, poultry, exotic reptiles, and small mammals. The pleasant employees solve problems ("My tortoise is constipated!"), sex finches, and catch piglets for kids to pet. There are horse troughs chirping with fuzzy goslings, ducklings, and four-for-eight-bucks bantam chicks. Pratt's also carries veterinary medication, offers a Saturday vet clinic, and stocks food and supplies for any vertebrate imaginable.
Pratt's newest acquisition: PetSpa. You know those machines outside Bashas' where you fill water jugs for a quarter a gallon? Well, for $14.95, you can stick your pooch in a similar contraption, this one with 36 shower heads and three cycles -- very Astro Jetson.
There are a couple of small signs just inside the front door of Auntie Em's that read, in both English and Spanish, "Parents: Please watch your children. Expensive toys." The placards don't lie, Mom, as this downtown Glendale curio shop is crammed with a plethora of pricey playthings dating back to the 1940s -- things that've been placed in glass cases to keep them away from Junior's greasy paws. In addition to the antique pedal cabs and miniature accessories also in stock at the store, this costly collection of classics runs the gamut from the more recently retro action figures (Transformers, Voltron, Star Wars) to the days long before you were bugging Daddy-o to buy some gaudy tie-in product seen in a recent cartoon. There are also quaint throwbacks ranging from cast-iron cops on Harley-Davidsons to 1960s-era Hot Wheels, as well as original Aurora models of movie monsters dating back to when Ike was in office. Play it again, Em!
The Book Connection is an odd little business, a shop just steps away from the ultimate independent bookstore (in these parts, anyway), Changing Hands. But there it is, tiny in comparison, with rows of used books and a few Melissa and Doug puzzles in the window.
Melissa and Doug toys are one of life's true joys. They're almost all made of wood, by some crunchy northeasterners (probably named Melissa and Doug) who realized that if one more plastic Polly Pocket doll moved into our house, we were going to have to move out. The toys are relatively inexpensive -- you can score a cool puzzle for $10, even an enormous castle with a king and queen for under $100. And you can find just about every Melissa and Doug toy we've ever seen -- a bigger selection, even, than in the toy department at you-know-where -- at the Book Connection.
The best part: Follow the rows of books to the back of the store, and it opens onto an oasis of toys. Shelves full of Melissa and Doug toys for sale, and just about every toy available to try. Our kids have held many concerts on the tiny pianos, thrown parties in the dollhouses -- and made good use of the (real) bathroom in the back, all undisturbed by the friendly staff.
To be honest, our perfect shopping trip to Scottsdale Fashion Square consists of stops at the new Anthropologie and the expanded Sephora, then a long, long stop in Neiman Marcus, followed by cocktails in the bar at Kona Grill. Ah, but we digress.
This is a trip for the kids, and so there will be none of the above. But you'll still have a great time.
Okay, listen carefully, before we regret giving up our secrets. Begin by parking in the Nordstrom parking lot just off Goldwater Boulevard, and enter the west side of the store. Take the elevator to the third floor, and browse the children's shoe aisle as you keep the toddlers moving toward the mall. You can mix the order from here, but the perfect trip -- all found on the third-floor stretch just outside Nordstrom -- includes:
• A stop at See's for free samples for you and the kids.
• A pass through Sanrio, better known as the "Hello Kitty Store," where you can satisfy a little girl's desire for plastic crap for just a couple of dollars. And sometimes they're giving out free stickers.
• A long stay at Pottery Barn Kids, where you can purchase a set of vintage-looking, kid-size kitchen appliances (stove and fridge) for $449, or let the kids play with them for as long as you want, for free. PBK also has the best bathroom on the "strip."
• Additional shopping forays at Baby Gap, Gap Kids, Gymboree, Baby Style, The Children's Place, and -- the big kahuna -- The Disney Store.
Then we like to stop for a soft pretzel (or bag of pretzel pieces) and lemonade at the pretzel stand and enjoy them at the kid-size tables and chairs before heading into what our kids have dubbed "The Princess Playground." Really, it's one of those Westcor specials you find at malls all over town. This one is small, but has its own bathroom. (It's been a long time since PBK.)
If you decide to drop some dough in the Nordstrom kids' shoe department on the way out, you can be guaranteed balloons for everyone. And just think of the shoes you'll buy yourself when you come back alone.
We were so happy to see This Little Piggy come home to the Biltmore, where it belongs, rather than tucked away at the Borgata in Scottsdale -- a place we always, frankly, forget is there.
Piggy's new (old) location is sweet, with two huge rooms packed with toys and kid accessories. But our favorite part of this Santa Barbara-based children's boutique is the clothing. You can find unique items (like a batiked tee, a takeoff on Hello Kitty with a familiar cat and the saying, "Hello Gorgeous") or go for the old standbys from This Little Piggy's own clothing line. We love the roomy, comfy cotton rompers, dresses and tees, with sweet images of pagodas, alligators and, of course, pig faces.
It's enough to make us squeal with glee at the shopping opportunities that await.
Our Number 1 rule for buying used clothing: Shop in the neighborhood of the people you aspire to dress like. For us, that's north central Phoenix, particularly when it comes to the fashion sense of that 'hood's little people. We hit Urban Baby Exchange, and we weren't disappointed. For less than $25, we scored two Baby Lulu outfits -- a feat unlikely even at Nordstrom's best sale. Urban Baby Exchange isn't large, but every item in it -- from the shoes to the blankets, and a few pieces of baby gear -- has been lovingly chosen, and carefully preserved.
It's north central all the way, baby!
The selection of kids' and infants' shoes at Bearly Kidding -- especially the dress shoes -- is to die for. Perhaps even better, you won't be left to your own devices. A member of BK's knowledgeable staff is always at the ready to measure your muffin's foot and dispense sound advice about style and fit. So pick out some stylish loafers for your little man or slip your tootsie's tootsies into a pair of sassy sandals from Pom D'Api, Shoe Be Doo, or Mod 8, and let Bearly Kidding do the rest.
The wonderful assortment of books and fun-but-educational toys in this gift shop is the most thoughtful part of the Arizona Museum for Youth. We particularly appreciated the cuddly staffers at the gift shop who, unlike the museum guards, were friendly and encouraged our kids to browse and touch toys. We understand the need to protect precious art, certainly, but why put precious art in a children's museum? There are few places in the world where kids don't have to hear, "Don't touch! Stay back! Keep your socks on!"
Okay, lecture over. The museum shop, which has its own entrance, had great bargain gifts, like a grab bag (who doesn't like a grab bag?) including funny sunglasses and a pencil for just $2, and craft projects with beads and clay that will let kids make their own art. Then open your own children's museum.
We swear, we don't want any more kids, but a walk through Baby Bliss makes the thought of procreation -- or at least, the notion of another baby shower -- very tempting. The small shop adjacent to Domestic Bliss (a home store that makes you want to nest like crazy) is crammed full of only the sweetest, cutest, most awwwww-inspiring clothing and accessories for baby and mom. We saw the tiniest ribbon-trimmed tutu in the palest blue, cotton pantsuits in the season's trendiest Neapolitan ice cream shades, and a collection of vintage-inspired time pieces featuring youngsters frolicking 'round the clock. We settled on a pair of pink baby socks trimmed with black to look like Mary Jane shoes, wondering if our 4-year-old would be able to cram her toes into them (she was, but barely) and trying to decide which sheet set we'd buy for the crib, if we do decide to descend into Baby Bliss once more.
When the producers of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation needed props for a curious caper titled "King Baby" that aired back in February, they went to Mike Sally and his adult baby/diaper lover (AB/DL) business, babyapparels.com. And, yes, the folks at CSI had plenty of other options for their episode about the murder of a grown man who had a secret chamber full of oversize baby paraphernalia. But they went with Sally -- out of a few dozen adult baby furniture makers around the country -- to provide them with a custom-made $1,200 crib, a high-end $600 high chair with lots of extra room in the seat, a $500 playpen, and other accouterments. Sally also sells big baby accessories, like "fun, simple and sophisticated" crib bedding, and rocking horses "built to last." Goo-goo.
Eames and Bertoia and Starck, oh my! Yeah, this is dangerous territory if you love modern furniture. We can barely contain our drool when the gorgeous, glossy Design Within Reach catalogue arrives in the mail, so visiting this spacious new retail showroom -- which brings gleaming Mies van der Rohe chairs and glowing Noguchi lamps into three dazzling dimensions -- throws us into ecstatic bouts of pipe-dreaming. Purists can scorn the fact that none of this is actual vintage -- DWR deals in newly manufactured pieces based on mostly mid-century designs -- but we can't imagine that the late Eero Saarinen himself would've begrudged us for wanting a Womb Chair that's fresh from the factory.
The super-cool home decor at IKEA is so inexpensive that shopping there is almost like shopping for free. Or at least like having a perennial 50-percent-off coupon. Because where else are you going to get such a shiny lacquered bookcase for under $100? Where in the world but IKEA can anyone come away with a pine Tansu coffee table that's ultra-hip and doesn't have to be budgeted for? Okay, so all those $4 lamps and $5 wicker baskets add up, but we're okay with it, because we can smother any buyer's remorse with a hot sandwich from IKEA's deluxe snack bar. Like everything else in this Danish Modern mecca, we haven't found a lower price on a meatball that tastes better than IKEA's. So look for us in the pop-together chrome lighting department, and make ours a meatball to go.
Death can be so darned messy, but Family Heritage has been helping to tidy up the loose ends for more than 20 years. The Phoenix-based company's slogan is "We do the work so you don't have to," and what fine work it does. There are scores of estate-sale liquidators operating in the Valley, but none better than Gary Landi and Terry Dalton of FHES. The duo's success is based largely on tasteful restraint; in other words, they're picky about the estates they liquidate. While other liquidators typically host weekly sales, Family Heritage averages only about one per month. You can sign up for FHES sale notifications by visiting the company's Web site. Perhaps the highest commendation we can give FHES is that we always take a big empty box with us to its sales. If you're an estate-sale maven like us, you know what that means. If you're not, take a big empty box to the next Family Heritage sale and find out.
Where can you shop in the Valley where destroying the inventory to get at something you want isn't against the rules? The Ecology Auto Parts junkyard, that's where. This used car parts oasis features the usual next-to-nothing customer service, car parts infested with bird feces, and shoppers covered in greasy oil. What distinguishes Ecology from the other guys is the organization. Yes, we said an organized junkyard. For just $1, navigate along the wide footpaths and into the well-marked bays of old junk heaps, prearranged into four categories: Ford/Lincoln/Mercury; Chevrolet/Geo; Dodge/Chrysler; and Imports, a section that includes BMWs and limited SUVs. Parts for '60s vehicles are rare; pieces of '70s autos are easier to come by; and junked cars from the '80s to the present are abundant, especially if you're looking for parts for your Geo Metro or your Chevy truck. Ecology also has a car and scrap metal buying program, and it's open pretty much all the time, barring Christmas Day. Get junking.
There must be fabulous garage sales in Europe. How else to explain the amazing castoffs that turn up in this store? Like a 250-year-old santo from Prague; a 60-year-old steel medical table from Belgium; and a three-foot-high, 150-year-old ceramic water jug from Crete. Oh, and don't forget the set of four-foot-tall clock faces from a tower in Holland. (A local richie turned one into a wall clock for his mansion.) Owner Todd Zillweger won't reveal exactly where he finds this gorgeous stuff. Trade secret, he says. The stuff here isn't cheap -- an iron transom from a 19th-century Egyptian doorway runs a couple hundred bucks, and the stone window surround from an 18th-century Gothic cathedral runs into the thousands. But Relics is where you come when Home Depot won't do. Drop in, and you'll be tempted to splurge, because in a city where everything is new, old seems exotic.
Location, location, location. What's gospel for Realtors also holds true for antique malls, only in reverse. This Grand Old Dame's address on the Valley's eastern fringe means lower prices -- typically by about a third -- than those at similar antique emporiums located in the urban core. There is also, in our opinion, a better selection of quality items on the shelves than you'll find in the city. Why? Well, there's the far-out factor, for one. Additionally, the 75-plus vendors who hawk their wares in AJ are typically older and less technologically inclined than the sellers at malls closer in. This is not intended as an insult; we consider it a godsend, because it means that more of the good stuff remains in the stalls and off eBay. This, in turn, creates the sort of dealer loyalty that keeps buyers coming back for more. As a case in point, we drive twice as far and visit the Grand twice as often as we patronize other antique malls, and we never leave empty-handed -- a classic win-win for buyer and seller. City folk, take note.
Sometimes, even on days when antiquing isn't in our budget, we drop in on this elegant collection of old furniture and art, because it's almost like visiting a tiny museum of what was once considered beautiful in-home decor. Although Phoenix is lousy with antiques shops, Willo Historic District Antiques is the only one that reminds us of the super-stylish shops popular on the East Coast, full as it is with precious artifacts from the not-so-recent past. We ended up redecorating an entire room around a pair of leather-covered end tables we found at Willo and honestly didn't have room for, just because they were so admirable and so admirably priced. The guys who run this cool collection of pretty, shiny old things have an eye for rare artifacts, and they're great about sharing that talent -- along with better-than-fair prices -- with us.
The middle of the desert Southwest is not exactly where you'd think to look first for Asian antiques and decorative accessories. But Scottsdale's Echoes of Asia is where you'll find some of the finest Asian and Southeast Asian pieces we've seen outside of tony boutiques in L.A., San Francisco and New York.
Located in the Scottsdale Airpark, this relatively new shop is owned by Khanittha and Balint Kocsis and started out as an eBay selling experiment of their private collection of mostly Chinese and Thai antique items. The couple was so successful that their personal collecting passion ballooned into a full-scale antique business that will soon be moving to even bigger digs.
Beautifully carved wooden screens, old and new Chinese ceramics, pottery, jade carvings and lacquered pieces, dazzling antique Buddhas from Thailand and Cambodia, offering tables, old doors and intricate window panels, gorgeous ethnic silks and embroideries -- these are just a few of the items Echoes of Asia offers up to the lover of Asian antiques and artifacts. We're especially appreciative of the fact that each carefully selected piece on display is accompanied by a tag that identifies the piece as new or old, its approximate date of creation, and its place of origin. Add to all this the owners' sincere eagerness to share with any customer or window shopper their considerable knowledge about what they are selling and you get a little bit of Beijing and Bangkok right here in Salt River City.
When it comes to home furnishings, Tuscan is as over as Michael Jackson's career. Modern is the new new thing: sofas on skinny metal legs, TV lamps, faux abstract-expressionist sofa art. Dave Alvarez (d.a., get it?) scours estate sales from Beverly Hills to Palm Springs looking for vintage high-end modern furnishings. He comes home with some treasures.
d.a.'s has gorgeous Heywood-Wakefield, yes. But the shop also has stunning, one-of-a-kind pieces, like the pristine 1940s-era Paul László hutch we saw on a recent visit. All apple green enamel and art deco curves, you could imagine Ava Gardner keeping her liquor in it. There was a 1950s-era end table designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, and a cubist-influenced watercolor of the New York skyline circa 1930 by an uncelebrated but accomplished artist.
Alvarez says he sells more of his retro cool gear on eBay than he does to locals. "People here don't seem to know modern is cool," he says.
Now they will, Dave.
What's old is new again, as they say in the fashion and furnishings biz. And if it's old you're looking for, as in 1940s, 1950s and 1960s old, Modern Lighting is a not-to-be-missed destination for any connoisseur of vintage funk. From goofy to gorgeous, this small store has stuff literally hanging from the rafters and taking up every available inch of surface space. We found a 1940s green-and-gold glazed doggy lamp here, along with a foofy chandelier dripping with capiz shells, probably from the late '60s, among the vintage tiki treasures and Hawaiiana sprinkled along Modern's jammed aisles. We were also impressed by several Chinese carved serpentine vase lamps and a pair of those Murano glass table lamps that were so terribly hip in the late '50s and early '60s. But the pièce de résistance was found overhead: a chrome Sputnik ceiling fixture priced at a cool $3,500. We're still thinking about it -- and about where we're going to scrape up the dimes so we can go back for it.
This place has umpteen thousand shiny rocks -- for jewelry, for metaphysical conjuring, for decorating your home. Whether you're looking for amethyst, quartz or feldspar, this is the place.
What drew us to the store originally was its collection of what appeared to be African animal and death masks (turns out they're Indonesian, but they're still cool). We had just bought a house, and the previous owner had left zebra wallpaper in one of the bedrooms. At first we were horrified, and then we decided to just go with it. We set out in search of decorations. Boy, did we find what we were looking for at Black Market! If you're into masks, you'll get your rocks off perusing the bulkheads of this place. There are many varieties of authentic wooden ones, and they're cheap. For under $20, you can put an elephant's face on your wall, or a zebra's or a giraffe's or a leopard's. For those into the macabre, there is a variety of skull masks.
We bought beautiful rocks for our planters, masks for our walls, and wooden wind chimes that are music to everyone's ears.
There's nothing conventional about a couple of the stores on Furniture Row, where you could accessorize your entire home without leaving the parking lot. The best of the places along the strip offer cool secondhand stuff. There are about half a dozen businesses here, the crème de la crème being Eclectica and Cupid's Furniture. We purchased a killer retooled dinette set at Cupid's -- you know, the kind you used to see on
I Love Lucy or in your grandmother's kitchen, only black and silver instead of orange and yellow. And we bought a gigantic ceramic wall hanging of three exotic nudes fading into the ether at Eclectica. Neither was cheap (both in the $400 range), but they were unique, and when we surveyed the prices at conventional furniture stores for stuff we wouldn't dream of putting near our contemporary digs, we were satisfied.
Eclectica is famous for its exotic merchandise. On last inspection, it was selling a stuffed pirate swinging down from a rope, red phone booths straight out of Piccadilly Circus, a mint-condition standup bass, gigantic Alice in Wonderland chairs, three-foot-high statues of Elvis, and that's just the beginning. The funky lamp selections at both Cupid's and Eclectica are out of this world.
Another store on the row that will usually have something unique is J&K Furniture. We bought some glass-topped metallic coffee and end tables there, and the place always has great prices on couches and beds. (Last time we visited, there was a canopy bed big enough for Henry VIII to have slept on.) Here's a perk: Right in the center of Furniture Row is Fuel Motorsport Café and Bar, an interesting place to stop for a cold one on a hot day of furniture-store hopping.
If you're in the market for key tassels, beaded fringe, tiebacks, bullions or similar trimmings, you've come to the right place. H & R carries a wide assortment of the fancy stuff, as well as related items and accessories for home-decor improvement. Depending on your mood and needs, you might find some new legs for that vintage couch or a cool hide to re-cover a tacky kitchen chair. H & R is also one of the Valley's go-to places for hard-to-find fabrics like glittered vinyl, tanned leather, Ultrasuede, and shantung silk. And while you're there, why not check out the store's prints? Our favorites are the Copa Cabana (a nifty repeating pattern of fez-wearing monkeys) at $12.95 per yard, and the appropriately named Beach Umbrella at $11.95 per yard. Be sure to ask for Larry, who'll escort you around with his scissors, hacking off swatches at your command.
These days, knitting is hotter than a nickel on a car seat. With-it Valley knitters tend to flock to Arizona Knitting, a floor-to-ceiling mass of high-quality yarns and fibers, as well as needles, crochet hooks and needlecraft paraphernalia. It also stocks a surprisingly thorough collection of literature on the subjects of knitting, crocheting and needlepoint. The most endearing quality of this wonderful shop, however, is the communal table at the rear of the store, where clientele meet to discuss needlework, fix knitting problems, and hang with other stitchers. Informative and well-organized workshops cater to all levels and are taught throughout the year by a knowledgeable and engaging staff. The only problem you might have to contend with at Arizona Knitting and Needlepoint (other than an occasional dropped stitch) is deciding which amazing knit to pick for your next project.
Considering that we still haven't figured out how to enter phone numbers into our cell phone (which we've had for a year now), we're not so sure we're candidates for phone rhinestoning, the hottest craft trend among the under-20 set. What are those kids doing with cell phones, anyway? And do you think any of them would be willing to show us how to put numbers into our phone?
Maybe they will after we tell them that Diane Ribbon is the place to get the goods to rhinestone a cell phone. They might have some trouble convincing Mom to venture to the somewhat sketchy, industrial 'hood where the huge craft warehouse is located, but as soon as mother and daughter see the goods inside -- enough ribbon to put SAS to shame, enough craft gear to make Michaels blush -- we promise the two will be rushing back to see Diane at every opportunity.
You know something's become way too mainstream when PBS creates a TV series about it, like the new one just for jewelry-making and bead-stringing (we haven't yet gotten
Beads, Baubles and Jewels in the Valley, sponsored in large part by Fire Mountain Gems, so start vigorously lobbying our local PBS station
now). But long before the craze hit, Beads Galore, the veritable grandpappy of bead stores in the Valley, was pushing beads and stringing material for do-it-yourself accessory designers and homecrafters.
Beads Galore finally outgrew the funky industrial warehouse space it thrived in for years and now has moved to a sprawling retail store next to REI in Tempe. What it hasn't changed at the new location is its big open bins overflowing with glass, porcelain and clay beads from Czechoslovakia, China, India and Peru, which you can pick through for tiny treasures. Go ahead, let those sparkly jewel-like orbs slip luxuriously through your fingers as you dig deep into a pile -- you can actually afford these babies. Prices for bin beads range anywhere from 4 to 8 cents a gram, so they're always in demand. In fact, one Saturday it became virtually impossible to bag a space at the gigantic bead troughs hogging up a huge area in the rear of the store. If we didn't know better, we'd have thought we had stumbled onto a gaggle of crazed miners panning for gold.
Sandwiched between a pottery-painting enterprise and a florist shop in a small strip mall adjacent to a floridly decorated Chinese restaurant, Bead World isn't much to look at from the outside. But swing open that glass door and, if you're a beader, an involuntary gasp will slide from your jaded lips. Though small, this new bead shop is artfully covered floor to ceiling with every conceivable type of bead, many of which we hadn't seen before -- and the quality of its carefully handpicked stock is refreshingly remarkable.
Not only does Bead World carry silver and vermeil beads from Indonesia and India, but also copper and brass variants you'll have to have. From Swarovski crystals to unusual Czech glass shapes, ethnic bone beads to enameled Chinese cloisonné, freshwater pearls to semiprecious gemstone beads, from basic findings to intricate carved jade pendants, this place has got it all -- and then some. And we've found every last one of its sweet staffers, for whom no question about beading is too stupid or ridiculous, to be helpful and pleasant. If you find otherwise, feel free to string us up.
If beads were edible, we suspect we would be considered morbidly obese at this point. Our insatiable appetite for the latest in jewelry-making components has even driven us to brave the wilds of the world-renowned Tucson Gem and Mineral Show every February for days on end. When the show is over, we pine for the high quality and good deals we've gotten there. To sustain us until next February, we hit AZ Gems in Tempe, a relative newcomer to the bead-store scene in the Valley.
This place is actually a wholesale importing business that's open to the public, and the prices reflect the wholesale aspect. We found beautiful turquoise, coral, rainbow fluorite, labradorite, amethyst, tourmaline, serpentine, jasper, amber, aquamarine and other semi-precious gemstone beads there in a bewildering variety of shapes and sizes, and at prices that come close to the ones we get at the big gem shows. But be sure to follow proper "bead etiquette" when at AZ Gems, or Cye, the mountain man/prospector from Oregon who's the manager, will not be happy with the resulting mayhem you create. Cye will walk you through exactly what you should and should not do to organize your purchases, e.g., it's an absolute no-no to pull a strand of beads from a group of them without first holding on to the top of the hank (that's bead talk) and gently pulling your chosen strand away from the bunch. Hey, we know, but it's a small price to pay for the quality and prices you get at this place.
Locally owned Scrapbooks Etc. provides a haven for both serious and novice scrappers, all of whom walk around in a joyful haze amid the store's extensive -- and we do mean extensive -- selection of scrapbook- and album-making supplies. You'll find printed and solid-color papers of every conceivable hue and weight (including vellum and heavy cardstock), as well as punches, scissors, glue sticks, idea books, organizers, die cuts, stickers, and embellishments galore. Another plus is the store's scrapping classes. If there's not one in session when you stop by, you can visit the workshop at the back of the store and use the on-site tools to assemble individual pages or an entire album. We recommend calling ahead to make sure that the "open lab" is not full.
Phoenix still doesn't have a chapter of the Church of Craft -- the campy club that's popped up in other cities, devoted to, you guessed it, the art of craft. (Check it out at www.churchofcraft.org -- start a chapter here and we promise you a Best of Phoenix next year!)
But we've got better -- we've got Cindy and Gary Iverson, and the Paper Studio. This wonderful gallery/shop/school opened quietly this year, and we couldn't believe it when we popped in on a hot Saturday afternoon. The beautiful space, just across the street from the Tempe Library, is friendly to paper artists from scrapbookers to bookmakers -- a wide range. Cindy, who has an MFA in book arts, teaches a range of classes, from paper pouring (you literally mix and pour the pulp that will become handmade paper) to scrapbook-making. Gary teaches a variety of binding courses, and other local artists round out the schedule with classes like Polaroid transfers.
One of the nicest things about the Paper Studio is that it doesn't look down on scrapbookers but also doesn't stock a bunch of cheesy stickers. If you don't want to get too involved, you can buy beautiful stationery for a few bucks. Or you can have invitations printed for you.
The Iversons will even host a private party for you, with your choice of guests, teacher and class. Phoenix may not have the Church of Craft, but paper people still have a lot to be grateful for!
We're not so good at decorating cakes, but we do love the boxes they come in. Not sure why, maybe it's a throwback to too many trips to Karsh's Bakery with Mom, back in the day. In any case, we go crazy for pink bakery boxes, and we've found the place to buy them: ABC. From cupcake-tiny to extra large sheet cake, you can fill your wishes, then go home and fill your boxes. We use ours to wrap gifts, but if you do want to bake a cake to put in yours, the kind folks at ABC can help you out there, too.
Misplaced your crème brûlée torch, or desperately seeking a salt pig? Kitchen Classics is the place for you. This store (you can also order online) is well known around town as the place to go for hard-to-find kitchen supplies. From high-end specialties to everyday spatulas, you can find it here, or, if you can't find it, the staff will help you. Kitchen Classics also has a great reputation for its cooking classes, which run from chips and dips to sweet and savory cheesecakes. Novices are welcome: Try Japanese Made Easy or Cake 101. Bon appétit!
Anyone who laments Phoenix as a minefield of strip malls needs to head straight to the southwest corner of 40th Street and Campbell Avenue, to see what Kris and Craig DeMarco have done. Sure, they had a big shell of a former post office, which is now the wine bar Postino, but they also spearheaded the groovy makeover of the strip mall that fronts Postino with the corner market La Grande Orange. There's no hint of the grungy convenience store that stood in that spot for years; now you can get everything from fresh flowers to freshly baked English muffins at the Big O, as the locals call it. Next door, LGO serves its signature pizza, and a few feet down, Tammie Coe bakes her beautiful cakes and Paper Joy cranks out wonderful invites.
This corner is testament to what a few creative minds -- and more than a few well-placed dollars -- can do.
If some wine lists are like poems or short stories, then Kazimierz World Wine Bar's list is like reading a Russian novelist of old -- like Tolstoy or Dostoevsky. You're not going to finish it in one sitting. As Yoda might say, overwhelmed you will be. After all, the list is made up of 2,600 wines from 40 countries, with 225 varietals represented. Prices range from less than $10 for a glass to upward of $4,400 per bottle, and there are plenty of lovely noshes to partake of while you imbibe. Nuts and cheese, if you wish only a nibble. Or Egyptian flatbread pizzas if you need something more substantial. Kazimierz shares its wine cellar with Cowboy Ciao and Sea Saw, and with this sort of largess, why shouldn't it? The whole thing is set up like some medieval speakeasy, with faux rock walls, a wooden roof, and a "secret" entrance in the back. Deep couches and dim lighting make for romantic interludes with that special cork dork in your life. And even if you don't know your Beaujolais from your Ripple, Kazimierz is still a sweet place to kick it.
Be it from cow, goat, sheep, yak, llama or any other milkable mammal, we crave cheese in all its fat-laden, smelly grandeur. From mild-mannered Monterey Jack, Gruyère, Gouda and Havarti to rock-on Roquefort, Castello, Brie and Manchego, we can't get enough of the stuff, so it's a good thing we're near a Whole Foods Market, where the selection is nothing less than a veritable United Nations of Cheeses.
And since Whole Foods is admittedly dedicated to high-quality, mostly organic comestibles, both its imported and domestic cheeses contain no artificial flavors or colors or synthetic preservatives, be they from the wilds of Wisconsin, the plains of Spain or the frigid fjords of Scandinavia. We've found it hard to choose from all the artisanal cheeses this place offers -- those specialty cheeses of limited production that may include flavorings such as herbs, spices, fruits and nuts, like cabra al vino, which literally translated means Drunken Goat. It's a hard-to-find Spanish goat cheese from the province of Murcia dunked in red wine and aged to tangy perfection, almost always available here.
Best of all, Whole Foods likes cheese shopping for its customers to be risk-free, so you can ask for a little nibble of that triple-crème Camembert or the $16-a-pound Basque country Idiazabal before you commit yourself to spending beaucoup bucks for a pound of it.
Once you've tasted real wild salmon, you can't ever go back to those sea spuds of the deep -- you know, the tasteless, fatty, red-food-coloring-added, farm-raised variety that swim lazily around in their pens doing the backstroke and munching on prefab fish-food pellets. And we've found just the place where you can get the wild stuff all year long: Alaska Family Salmon.
A fourth-generation, family-owned and -operated fishing business based in Alaska, this store's wiggly offerings are pulled in, fussin' and fightin', from Cook Inlet, where it meets the Kenai River, and flown to Phoenix either fresh or flash frozen within eight hours, depending on the season. It's firm, real, salmon-colored, delectable fish flesh, from pristine, virtually contaminant-free cold waters. No antibiotics. No pens. Just good-tastin' fish for grilling, poaching or sushi making.
Besides fresh, fresh-frozen and smoked king and sockeye salmon fillets and whole fish, Alaska Family Salmon also carries fresh halibut, wild Alaska king crab, scallops and razor clams. And you can't beat the prices here with a stick or a fishing pole.
For the one in every 133 people who suffers from genetic autoimmune gluten intolerance in one form or another, jokes about the Texas Two-Step and Montezuma's Revenge are not particularly funny. Nor is the fact that these people can't ingest any grain product containing gluten (including wheat, rye and barley) without suffering even more severe consequences, like intestinal damage, joint pain, unwelcome weight loss and malnutrition.
Relief for the gluten-intolerant has come to town. Gluten Free for You, co-owned by Kris Anderson and Tom Rich (who himself is gluten-intolerant), specializes in bread, pasta and cracker products that are guaranteed gluten-free. Not only does it carry ready-made foods made from rice, potato, soy, tapioca and bean flour, but it also stocks mixes for making bakery items, including wheat- and gluten-free cakes and muffins. Gluten Free for You also maintains a convenient Web site, from which you can buy its products by mail order.
We can't imagine a world without pizza, bagels, ice cream cones or cookies; now celiac sufferers in Phoenix don't need to live in one.
From the pretzels to the strudel, this outpost of the old country is the finest place in town to find fresh-baked German goods. We also had fun browsing the aisles of the small market. Who knew so many varieties of gummis existed? Old Heidelberg also features a wide selection of sausage, and, judging by the accents we overheard on our visit, is about as authentic as you're going to get, in these parts.
If you walk into a Valley bakery and ask for mandel bread (instead of biscotti) or challah (rather than egg bread), some folks around here might think you're a little meshugana. But not the staff at Karsh's. They've run
the Jewish bakery in town for decades, providing the city with rugalach, bagels and onion rolls. You can get the best black-and-white cookie around at Karsh's, and they'll even bake you a wedding cake or a birthday cake with your mug on it. Without official rabbinical blessings, the place isn't technically kosher (it's open on Saturdays, an obvious no-no but an even more obvious "yes," given that Karsh's is trying to run a business in a not-so-Jewish town!) but it does use kosher products and honors kosher baking practices.
That's kosher enough for us! Pass the rye.
The folks at Barb's are so accommodating when it comes to decorating their infamous iced cookies that we once brought Mexican paper flowers and asked if they could match the colors. They could, and unfortunately (because we didn't think ahead) our guests left the party smeared with shocking pink, red and dark purple icing. Yuck. We suggest you stick to pastels, for your own good, but even with a limited color palette you can choose from a wide variety of cookie cutters or bring your own -- even a martini-shaped cutter, which we bought online and provided to Barb's staff, who happily created a cocktail almost as good as the real thing.
Okay, so we've got a thing for iced cookies. You will, too, after you try Barb's cookies, which taste as good as they look.
This is the best sausage fest ever: meaty butts, thick kielbasas, and Hungarians that'll leave your mouth orange with paprika. May sound like the after-party for an all-male revue, but get your gray matter out of the gutter! We're talking about McDowell's own Stanley's Home Made Sausage Co., which has been in business since 1963 under three sets of owners. For the past 16 years, it's been in the hands of the Stevanovic family -- 31-year-old Marko, and his mom and dad, Emilia and Vukadin. They handcraft some 46 different kinds of meats and sausages, everything from smoked pork butt and bratwurst to hot dogs with natural skins and sausages made like those from Hungary, Yugoslavia and Romania. Amazingly, the Stevanovics move some 2,000 to 5,000 pounds of meat a week through the McDowell location, as well as through their new store on Bell Road. They produce some of the best Polish pierogi in the Valley as well. Ah, soft dumplings and a nice hunk of butt -- what else could you hope for?
After a trip to Yasha From Russia, we really wish we could read Russian, Bulgarian, even a smidge of Turkish. That's because the majority of labels in this incredible deli market are written in those languages and several others that use the Cyrillic alphabet, which is Greek to us, so to speak.
Where do we begin? Yasha has one of the most extensive inventories of Eastern European and Russian delicacies this side of Uzbekistan. You name it, Yasha's got it -- dried and salted, pickled, marinated and sauced fish of what seem like a thousand and one species (like, what is a sprat, anyway?), fresh pickled tomatoes and cucumbers, cheeses made from cow, goat and sheep milk (including kashkaval, a tangy sheep's milk cheese from Bulgaria), dumplings with potato, cheese, meat or sour cabbage filling, Russian pastries, cookies and candies, jams and jellies, teas and coffees -- plus fancy imported china and tea glasses to eat and drink them from. And good luck trying to choose from Yasha's army of sausages and salami (you have to try the gypsy sausage, a peppery, salami-like sausage that's addictive). Looking for ikra, better known to non-Russians as eggplant caviar? Ajvar (roasted red pepper dip/sauce)? How about guvetch (Bulgarian lamb ragout) or imam bayeldi (Russian eggplant and tomato appetizer)? They're all here. And to wash everything down, Yasha graciously offers a dizzying selection of esoteric wines and spirits from Russia, Georgia, Romania and Bulgaria, among other Eastern producers.
Hundreds of Asians make their way to this part of town every weekend as if it were some sort of Vietnamese Mecca, and with good reason: Not only can you score a bowl of pho -- rice noodles in fragrant beef broth -- at the Vietnamese restaurant Yen Mi, but after your meal, you can walk next door to one of the state's biggest Asian supermarkets (Lee Lee's Oriental Supermarket) to buy the ingredients to make your own. If that isn't enough, there's a Vietnamese dentist, eye doctor, nail salon and hair stylist -- all on the same corner. To make the Southeast Asian beauty of the intersection complete, Lee's Sandwiches just opened this summer. The brand-spankin'-new bakery sells authentic Vietnamese sandwiches and coffee just like the ones you can get from cafes in Vietnamese-populated Santa Ana, California.
It may not be the streets of Saigon, but this intersection is pho-king great.
If the only thing you know about Korean culture is what you learned from reruns of
M*A*S*H, it's time to turn off the tube and make a trip to this Mesa strip mall. There are the standard favorites: a Korean grocery store (Asiana Market) to pick up some kimchee, and a restaurant (Hodori) that serves huge portions of kalbi (Korean barbecued beef short ribs). For some after-dinner entertainment, hit up Koreana Video and pick out popular subtitled goodies like
My Sassy Girl or movies starring Korean superstar Lee Byung-heon -- both have earned cult following from Koreans and non-Koreans alike.
If Kim Jong-il ever visited the Valley and wanted to feel at home, this corner in Mesa would be the place to go.
If home is where the heart is, and the best way to a person's heart is through the stomach, then Japanese natives longing for the Land of the Rising Sun will find no better cure for homesickness -- or hunger -- than a visit to this tiny Tempe strip mall, where food is the main attraction. For chicken teriyaki that's tasty, quick and inexpensive (just the way time-strapped Tokyoites like their eats), Tokyo Stop makes a handy lunch spot. Right next door is Fujiya Market, where customers stock up on imported noodles, mixes, sauces and seasonings, or -- if they're lucky -- grab one of the daily made obento that sell like hotcakes around midday. And just on the other side of Fujiya is Arai Pastry, home to divine desserts like green tea mousse, fruit tarts and éclairs, as well as a small selection of sandwiches. If you love the doughiness of fresh white bread, try the fragrant, thick-cut loaves at Arai. Rice may be Japan's carb of choice, but this comes in a close second.
According to the Somali Association of Arizona, there are more than 5,000 Somalis living in Arizona. The majority of them have moved to Phoenix in the past five years, and the Somali presence is especially noticeable along McDowell Road in east Phoenix. Indeed, the unnamed strip mall located at the northwest corner of 51st Street and McDowell should be dubbed "Little Mogadishu," or "Little Somalia," or, perhaps more romantically, "The Horn of Africa," as it is quickly filling up with Somali businesses and seems to be something of a Somali social center. There's the brand-new Juba Restaurant, a somewhat higher-end cousin to the bare-bones African Cafeteria; a Somali dress shop; and the Café Internationale, where off-work Somali men watch soccer on a big-screen TV. There's still a Subway sandwich shop present, a bar called the Rework Lounge, and a massage parlor curiously named "Friction Massage." But the Somali influence seems to be on the increase, at least in this little corner of town, and we can think of nothing cooler for the PHX.
Screw the travel agent. In a tiny strip mall near 35th Avenue and Northern, you can go from San Salvador to Sarajevo in under 10 seconds, just by walking from Hugo's Salvadorean Restaurant on one end to Cafe Sarajevo on the other. At Hugo's, you'll wish you'd brought your Spanish phrasebook along, as you point out a plate of pork and bean pupusas for yourself and watch soccer on the small TV set in the corner of this humble yet clean enterprise. Then you can waddle over to Cafe Sarajevo for an entirely different experience: flat-screen TVs playing Slavic music videos; a freshly painted interior with Bosnian cityscapes drawn on the walls; groceries and soft drinks from the region for sale; and a menu that includes Bosnian or Turkish coffee and a sandwich stuffed with little sausages called cevapi and topped with onions, sour cream and ajvar, a condiment of eggplant and peppers. One trip to this strip mall, and already you're a world traveler. Who knew globetrotting could be so fattening?
Until a long-established Phoenician friend of ours from Jordan turned us on to it, we had no idea that one of the best Middle Eastern grocery stores in the Valley was right under our noses. Like a small, shimmering oasis, Baiz (pronounced "bays") Market appears out of nowhere, a nondescript white 1950s building in the middle of a quiet residential area between Van Buren and Jefferson streets, with painted signs in English humbly identifying it as a bakery, grocery and meat market. But enter its unobtrusive doors and you're greeted by bouncy Arabic pop music, row upon row of neat aisles overflowing with classic Middle Eastern cooking ingredients and prepared foodstuffs, and Al-Hana, a mini-restaurant/bakery/deli section centered on a wood-fueled oven. Al-Hana serves up, for both eat-in and takeout customers, a host of tempting treats like shish taook (grilled chicken with pickles and garlic) and soujouk (grilled sausage with pickles and tomato), but you have to try one of its freshly concocted bread pies in your choice of meat, cheese, thyme-and-tomato or vegetable, along with traditional sides like tabbouleh, fattoush and hummus. Trust us.
We quickly filled up an entire shopping cart with primo olive oils from Lebanon and Turkey, halvah with pistachios, Turkish Delight candy we haven't seen since Istanbul, grape leaves for making sarma, phyllo dough, kadaifi (a sort of hairy version of phyllo), and labne, a Lebanese cream-cheese-like spread made from yogurt that is irresistible when mixed with mint, sumac, parsley, salt and olive oil and slathered on fresh pita. The cheese and pastries sections alone are worth a trip to Baiz -- how many places offer French, Bulgarian, Greek and Danish feta, along with at least 10 different types of marinated olives? And for those of the Muslim persuasion, this is the place to get halal meats, poultry and other food prepared in accordance with Islamic din.
Why do we like Lee Lee so much? Well, let's just say there's another ethnic market somewhere in the Valley that we've visited and sometimes found dead fish floating in the fish tank. We've never seen that at Lee Lee. Rather, each section is well-kept and unusually clean considering the sheer volume of people who shop at Lee Lee on any given day. Moreover, the produce, no matter how exotic, looks fresh, and there's a variety of dry goods from so many different Asian countries, including India, Thailand, China, Japan and Singapore. You name it and Lee Lee probably has it -- if it comes from that part of the world. Why, Lee Lee is so cosmopolitan, so filled with shoppers of so many ethnicities, that we only wish they'd open up a branch nearer to central Phoenix.
There is one place in the Valley you can score authentic Chinese baked goods. 99 Ranch Market in the Chinese Cultural Center is the best alternative to laying your hands on a slice of Asian goodness short of driving hundreds of miles to the nearest Chinatown. Behind the glass cases, Taiwanese cakes, complete with light cream (instead of spackle-like butter-cream) frosting, shine as fresh fruit piled on the tops glistens under the lights. After tossing the cake into your cart, throw in some baos (buns of golden goodness) packed with exotic fillings like taro root, lotus seed and red bean paste. With the bakery at 99 Ranch, you have to wonder why so many settle for a fortune cookie when they can tuck into the real Asian deal for dessert.
The Japanese have got tons of wacky snacks, and no place in town offers better evidence of this benign cultural stereotype than the west-side Japanese grocery store New Tokyo Food Market, which has the best selection we've seen in town. At New Tokyo, you'll find dried squid snacks like "Let's Party Squid," dried sea eel that looks like pork rinds, "WasabaBeef" potato chips that -- you guessed it -- combine the flavors of wasabi and beef, crackers flavored with sea urchin and shrimp, as well as myriad snacks made with seaweed and/or sesame. The sweet side of the equation includes green-tea-flavored candies, assorted rice cookies, sweet potato cookies, white kiku anuchi confections with red bean on the inside, and a dozen different kinds of Pocky, or cookie sticks, including choco-banana and lemon cheesecake. Wash it all down with a melon cream soda or a Pokka milk coffee, and then get the rest of your shopping done before you blow up like Shamu, dood.
Despite our love of new technology, we sometimes need a little blast from the past. Although soda shops were filled on weekend date nights back in the 1950s, after they vanished, flavored sodas mostly went with them. If you're hunting for the memory of sarsaparilla or just a swell swig of one of the several Jones Soda flavors not found at your local 7-Eleven, it's time to meet Pop: The Soda Shop. This tiny Scottsdale store carries a variety of exotic, alternative, gourmet and all-around-delicious carbonated beverages. Hell, they'll even order special sodas for you. It doesn't matter if you call it soda, pop or cola -- Pop: The Soda Shop stocks it, along with friendly service and usually a soda fanatic or two who wants to chat about the price of Nehi in Nebraska. Get popping.
Technically, at least, Italian gelato is better for you than regular ol' American ice cream. Like they used to say of Miller Lite back in the day (and may still do, as far as we know), it tastes great and is less filling. Indeed, gelato uses less milk fat during its production (the FDA mandates at least 10 percent milk fat for ice cream), and it doesn't pump as much air into the frozen treat, leaving gelato with a far smoother consistency. Of course, you're not supposed to eat gelato by the bucketful, either, which is what we do whenever we're in Chandler, stopping by the best gelato shop in the Valley, for as much of its pistachio flavor as we can eat. The quality of Angel Sweet's product is very high, due in no small part to the fact that the investors behind this gelato reputedly own the U.S. license for Mondogelato, a famous gelato maker whose product they fell in love with during a fact-finding mission to Italy. Of Angel Sweet's 20-some flavors, we adore the coconut, the peanut butter, the hazelnut, the zuppa inglese (which tastes like eggnog), and the berry explosion of frutti di bosco (fruits of the forest), tangy from the seeds of a half-dozen berries. Talk about la dolce vita, this is it! But, alas, we haven't noticed any dramatic weight loss since we've begun stopping by for our weekly gorges. Can't figure out why.
The vintage storefront and prices are certainly evidence that not much has changed since 1982, when Pizza Mart began serving up cheap eats and a certain cold, sugary treat for people in search of an inexpensive meal. Opened in 1972 as a Village Inn Pizza joint, the oddly triangular-shaped red brick, wood, and corrugated sheet metal structure has been turned into a haven for fans of tasty, cheap ice cream. For exactly one quarter (no tax!), one can choose from one flavor (vanilla) and cone style (the light and fluffy cake cone) vended from a large soft-serve machine. The portions are definitely gracious, and the restaurant also offers an all-day $4.95 large pepperoni pizza special. Twenty-five cents will get you far at the Mart, where one can also play old-timey video arcade games including Ms. Pac Man and Excitebike, also for just a quarter a turn. Did somebody say "Awesome '80s"?
This place is so, so darling. Bright white walls, blond-wood everything, and a clean expanse of pale blue mosaic tile behind the namesake counter (which only seats a dozen) create a welcoming atmosphere for anyone who wants to enjoy a cup of dark roast coffee that's as tasty and cheap as they come. But be forewarned: One-half of the store showcases gourmet foods, including treats from Dean & Deluca and Vosges, ready-to-go sandwiches and salads (also available off the menu), and boutique-y booze like Chimay Ale, Sofia Mini, and Lindemans Framboise. The other half of The Counter peddles perfect little gifts to keep for yourself: jewelry, hip CDs and books, groovy Jonathan Adler ceramics and pillows, $50 tank tops, and Jack Spade tote bags. After lingering a while -- and getting as caffeinated as you please -- you're bound to spend more than a quarter.
It's three days until that thesis is due, and a virus from a pop-up promoting Lonely Housewives Begging for More has just eaten up the hard drive of an outdated computer you found on Craigslist. Access to the magic of the information superhighway has been lost, but luckily all the hours of work were saved on a faithful floppy. But how will this project make its deadline? Go where all the ASU students flock in search of an Internet fix. E-Joy Cafe, a 'Net cafe off ultra-hip Mill Avenue, offers Internet access for a mere 5 cents a minute, along with a variety of food and beverages priced between $3 and $5 to fit a college budget. Scan pictures, burn CDs, make copies, and print out that thesis, all while sucking down one of E-Joy's tasty smoothies. Whether work or pleasure draws you to the Web, EJ is open 'til 2 a.m. to cure that need for high-speed.
The Coffee Bean is to Southern California what Starbucks is to Seattle -- on every corner, ready to turn the unsuspecting into $4-a-day latte addicts. There are far fewer Coffee Beans than there are Starbucks, but chances are you've seen a Coffee Bean or two in your day -- in a sitcom or a reality show, or, even more likely, the background on a star shot in
People magazine. It's always, "Jennifer forgets Brad over a non-fat, sugar-free Moroccan mint latte" or "Cameron beats the Santa Monica heat with a Malibu Dream Ice Blend."
We'll show you some heat, Cameron -- as well as several Coffee Beans popping up on the streets of Phoenix -- er, make that Scottsdale -- you see most of them in Scottsdale. That's not surprising; it's all about the lifestyle, baby. Our favorite Coffee Bean is a roomy affair with plenty of parking (take that, L.A.), right next door to the FORD/Robert Black Agency. So who knows, maybe we'll see a star or two ourselves, over our Iced Chai Tea Latte.
In a city where we have to drive everywhere anyway, we're happy to extend our definition of "neighborhood" by a few miles to include Lux in our locality. While plenty of folks really do come here on foot, many more are willing to cruise past their corner Starbucks -- or even a few of them -- just to lounge on Lux's comfy white seats with a magazine or a friend. Both the art (paintings and photography from local talent) and the regulars (a lively cross section of Phoenix artists, musicians, writers and architects) are fun to look at, but the real draw, of course, is the coffee. Roasted in-house and served up by expert baristas, it's a treat unto itself (although it goes down even better with a piece of Paloma's Pastries' fruit tart).
This quaint coffee commissary located in downtown Glendale wants a piece of the caffeinated action. Steel your wiry nerves, business-minded baristas, 'cause instead of wi-fi access or Joni Mitchell CDs, the smallish Espresso Garden offers a kinder, gentler java junction built into the converted garage of a Victorian-era home and teahouse. Within the country-store-like setting -- complete with checkerboards painted onto tabletops, and abundant antiques -- traditional coffee-house fare is served up to commuters bound for downtown Phoenix and pedestrians strolling among the doll shops and other kitsch klatsches of the Caitlin Court Historic District. Get your drink on with an assortment of steaming cappuccinos, iced lattes, aromatic teas, spiced ciders, and refreshing Italian sodas. If the hunger bug is biting, try a fresh deli sandwich (such as the veggie bagel with cream cheese, carrots, tomatoes and avocado) or choose from a selection of homemade biscotti, muffins, turnovers and other baked goods. It might seem too homespun for the hipsters, but a greeting card taped to the front counter sums up this demitasse domain's contribution to Glendale's cultural landscape: "She ain't much, but she's all we've got."
This spacious, welcoming room is a regular hangout for all manner of North Tatum habitués, from tat-covered crypto-hipsters to moms, business types and retirees just passing the time. Creature comforts predominate, including soft couches and chairs, a big flat-screen television, computer hookups, and a staff of kind young women (and an obligatory man or two) who try to remember everyone's name and what they like in the way of food and drink. The coffee is fine, and the eats are even finer, the latter with a distinct accent on the healthful stuff. We especially love the oatmeal/granola mix with the sugar glaze, topped by fresh fruit. A wall with news of local goings-on adds to the community feel of the joint. We could use Soma-More.
We get a rush from anything open past 10 that doesn't serve fries. How about some homemade baklava instead? Lakefront property, a nearby Pita Jungle and wireless Internet access means Coffee Rush is always packed. Sans laptop? There's even a computer for customers, gratis. Pick up a giant iced mocha and make everyone jealous because you have the stamina to be "chatting online with babes all day." Last call's at 11:30 p.m. -- plenty of time to slurp the rest of the mocha and go.
Sometimes, the rest of you forget that Tempe actually extends south of University Drive, beyond Arizona State University and into suburbia. It's there that we find Steve's Espresso, across the street from Target, around the corner from Ace Hardware and next door to a pretty good Indian restaurant. We love Steve's because the crowd's a bit calmer than what we see along Mill Avenue, and there's actually a place to park, right in front. Inside on a Sunday morning at the end of summer, electronic music plays in the background, just enough of a beat to keep us going as we wait for a latte. When we order a bagel, expecting full service, we're crushed when the guy behind the counter asks, "One packet of cream cheese or two?" but we perk up when we realize we get to toast our own bagel (the kids at Einstein's never get it dark enough, and don't get us started on Bruegger's), and soon we're bobbing our heads again, soaking in the local art on the walls, the leather chairs, the wireless access. And the latte's not bad at all. Bagel's pretty good, too. And there are even free dog biscuits for the hairy type hanging outside with his owner.
Now this is what we call a neighborhood.
If you care to sip a latte in Scottsdale, we recommend the Orange Table, tucked into a hard-to-find cranny on the Scottsdale Mall near the Center for the Performing Arts. If you're seeking a frou-frou coffee drink or just a plain old cup of coffee in a plain old cup, try the Table. The small coffee-house-cum-eatery will satisfy your caffeine jones while making you puff up with pride for supporting a locally owned and operated biz.
We highly recommend the Table's Mexican chocolate latte -- a sweet, aromatic jolt made with cinnamon and other spices. Willing to take a chance? Try the Mojo, an iced chai with a shot of espresso. Sounds gross, but trust us. But if you don't, try the frozen white chocolate mocha -- a perfect and not-too-sweet icy treat for a torrid summer afternoon. We're also fond of the Table's baristas, who are always friendly and often creative; you might just find the shape of a leaf or a heart skillfully traced into the foam of your latte.
Monique and Andres Yuhnke opened Counter Culture Café with hopes of becoming the late-night hangout spot, and we have to say they seem to have pulled it off. At the very least, the hip coffee shop that moonlights as a perennial First Friday haunt and a popular dance club oasis has definitely put Denny's and IHOP on the alert. During the week, the cafe is a cozy spot to grab a pick-me-up while surfing on the free wi-fi service. Caffeine-starved patrons can enjoy a range of high-octane beverages on comfy couches, a large outdoor patio, or via a 24/7 drive-through window. Wednesday nights a crowd gathers for the "anything goes" Speak Up! spoken-word series. And on Saturdays until 5 a.m., a rotating cast of house DJs, including Sonique des Fleurs and Joe Bear, transforms the cafe into an after-hours disco paradise. Dance on over.
Say you've just spent countless weekends trying to rid your residence of unwanted objects and other oddities, or rushed out to shop, after reading our "Goods and Services" section of Best of Phoenix. After six carport sales, though, no one wants that huge concrete fountain of a cherub pissing in a pool or the soiled patio furniture. There's no way you can sell it on eBay, and the thrift store won't touch it. Someone should put it to good use instead of letting it linger in a landfill, but nobody in his or her right mind will beg, borrow or steal it from you . . . except for the folks on Freecycle, that is. Conceived by an environmentally conscious Tucson resident in 2003, this vast network of separate community-specific e-mail Listservs around the world -- including 18 devoted to Valley regions -- is made up of locals who'll come pick up your outcasts on a first come, first served basis. It's one freaky flea market, as users can either announce their weird wares -- like killer fish or broken screen doors -- or make specific requests for items another Netizen might have. Think of it as the most bizarre bazaar of all.
