Too many times in Arizona, we hear about wonderful old historic sites only when they're facing the wrecking ball (see: the Sun Mercantile building, the former Beth Hebree Temple, Mary Rose Wilcox's now-bulldozed 105-year-old home). Even when they end up being spared demolition, we rarely see these sites being preserved in any meaningful way. So this spring, when we heard that the Paradise Valley adobe built by former U.S. Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor had been slated for demolition, then was saved, then was being moved to a lovely new site in Tempe and (hopefully) transformed into a "Center for Public Discourse," we were stunned. Since when does anything nice get solved so efficiently? The O'Connor House Project, of course, still has plenty of money to raise to make the dream of public discourse a reality. But we can say this, with finality: This is one old building that is being saved. And the new location is gorgeous.

The Clarendon Hotel

For years, The Standard hotel in Los Angeles has been famous for its rooftop and even more famous for the pool parties hosted there. The Oasis, atop the Clarendon Hotel in Phoenix, isn't as notorious — but, we dare say, it's better, if for no other reason than the people who hang out here aren't re-enacting their favorite episode of Entourage. The pool opened this year with underwater speakers — which pipe in nature sounds such as birds chirping and the sound of running creeks — and scalp-massaging jets for those of you pretty enough to risk being seen in public makeup-less and with wet hair. The jacuzzi holds 50 people at a time, but if it gets too crowded, there are plenty of cabanas and Italian sun beds to relax upon while you surf the Internet on the hotel's free Wi-Fi.

The stars that light up on the bottom of the pool at night, combined with the view of Phoenix's skyline at sunset, make this place a must-visit and a great place to play tourist for the day — even if you've lived here all your life.

Biltmore Fashion Park

It used to be that our hands-down favorite tunnel was I-10's four-lane passageway under Margaret T. Hance Park, until our friends at Westcor built the one under Camelback Road, just east of 24th Street. Sure, they did it primarily to lure office workers from the Esplanade directly across the street for lunchtime shopping and dining at the Biltmore, but we don't care. There's a pretty terrazzo mosaic down there that we could stare at for hours, and we love how "big city" it feels to go briefly underground, only to emerge at the other end at a shopping mall. The Camelback Tunnel (well, that's what we call it, anyway) is a great place for eavesdropping, and most nights there's a guy down there who plays keyboard and sings songs he wrote for himself in a private, one-man cabaret.

When we tire of playing Subterranean City Dweller, we head north and, within seconds, arrive at the Biltmore, where we pig out on Häagen-Dazs and browse Borders Books, feeling ever so slightly more urbane because we've gotten there from someplace underground — someplace pretty and nicely lit and there expressly for our enjoyment and convenience.

Scottsdale Civic Center Mall

Talk about a cheap high at taxpayers' expense — thankfully. On a spring afternoon, dozens of people are picnicking, frolicking, reading, text-messaging, and simply lying on the lush, green grass supplied to citizens by the City of Scottsdale. This is no mesa (no Mesa, either), but instead, a lovely oasis of gentle slopes, inviting shade trees, and the constant sweet splash of a big fountain not far away. Business types in ties and high heels are not immune from the charms of this space, and kids . . .  well, forget it. They never seem to want to leave, particularly when the splash fountain's going. Go figure.

From Red Hot Robot on Camelback to Practical Arts around the corner on Central, this corner is a hot bed of indie action. Anchored by Kimber Lanning's infamous Stinkweeds records, you can find everything from funky lighting to cool comics on this corner, and even get yourself a piercing at Halo and a Dilly Bar at one of the last old Dairy Queens.

We love the mix of old and new, and the fact that light rail will someday take us right to this little urban mecca.

The downtown art space confusingly called .anti_space is one of our favorite destinations on First Fridays and the occasional Third Friday. The squat concrete structure, which encompasses a large portion of the city block it rests upon, is a carnival-like cluster of cool. Not only does it have a wacked-out, test-pattern-style rainbow color scheme (guaranteed to sear your eyes), there always seems to be some interesting or artistic action going down on the property. During one visit, Andrea Beasley-Brown (a.k.a. the Midnite Movie Mamacita) was screening trailers for schlocky '70s horror films on a bedsheet screen while the Arizona Derby Dames sold baked goods, and people attempted to walk a foot-high steel-cable tightrope.

On other months, we've seen residents ride modified bikes in unison in front of the joint, thrill at the high-flying antics of aerialist Matti Baine, or rock out to local bands performing on the sidewalk. Oh, yeah, and a half-dozen galleries and boutiques are housed within .anti_space's walls, including CB*AG, Waldoism, and Fabriculture.

There's a chance that .anti_space might close by the end of the year. Then again, it's very possible that the complex could remain open well into 2009 or beyond. What's the deal? Well, it seems as though the property owner has designs on razing the building and erecting condos or something similarly gaudy. But because of the sagging real estate market, such plans are on hold, and the folks behind .anti_space can remain.

Three cheers for the recession!

Roosevelt Row CDC

There was a lot of hand-wringing earlier this year by Valley art scenesters when Phoenix officials cracked down on unlicensed vending during the monthly First Friday art walk in downtown Phoenix. The paint-splattered set was (understandably) concerned that the event's funky nature would be compromised if sales and displays of their etchings on street corners and vacant lots were banned.

But amidst the fretting, the folks behind Roosevelt Row (the nonprofit organization representing a cluster of downtown galleries and art-friendly businesses in the Evans Churchill neighborhood) provided a solution to the problem. Folks such as Greg Esser and Cindy Dach (the power couple behind MADE and eye lounge) helped organize a monthly street fair and block party where vending would be permitted, provided participants obtain necessary tax licenses from the city and county, as well as pay a monthly fee.

Since their debut in April, the parties have attracted an eclectic collection of more than a hundred vendors and artists, ranging from the wordsmiths of Desert Dragon Poetry to the kiddy clothiers of Young Ones Clothing. For those who're worried that First Fridays will slip into blasé blandness, the parties are still edgier and cooler than the Tempe Festival of the Arts. Let's just hope they keep out the funnel cakes salesmen and those dudes hawking Bob Marley blankets.

A slew of cities across the country have weird parades: Philadelphia has the nutty Mummers affair. Tucson boasts the even nuttier All Soul's Day Procession. And New York City hosts the boffo and beyond-bizarre Village Halloween Parade. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, the Valley fringe community has created the Phoenix Annual Parade of the Arts. Over the past two years, the event, which goes down around Halloween time (natch), has been a lively and fanciful showcase of costumed revelers, crazy antics, and artistic endeavors. Organizers describe PAPA as a "parading art fair" that allows PHX residents (as well as members of the local art scene and gonzo fringe community) to gather together in the spirit of fun and to let their freak flags fly. The 2007 version was a memorable experience, populated by artsy shopping cart floats, cyclists on modified bikes, belly dancers, stilt walkers, and countless other weirdos who marched along a mile-long route around downtown Phoenix. Book-ending the frenetic fete was a street party in Copper Square featuring music and performance art, capped off with a fireworks show. This year's event (scheduled for November 1), promises an "Out of this World" theme, so we're expecting to see plenty of outrageous aliens and astronauts in attendance.

Geisha A Go Go
Josh Chesler

When our dining companion slipped into the bathroom at this swanky Scottsdale eatery and stayed a while, we assumed she was sniffing some Bolivian "marching powder" — or getting it on with a hot waiter. But when she returned, she wasn't runny-nosed or chatty; she was rapturous. "Dude, you have got to try the toilet," she breathed. And for once, she was right: These W.C.s really are to die for, from the heated toilet seats to a seat that lifts and rotates its plastic sheath on cue for each new customer, to the incredibly nifty bidets. We guarantee you'll return to your table not only feeling cleaner but positively excited. It's got to be the most fun you can have in a public restroom without breaking the law.

Urban beautification takes many forms, and the one we like most is car customizer Luis Miranda's walls at his business, Miranda's Custom Cars, at Central and Grant. The wall sections actually begin on Grant and curve around to First Avenue. On them is some of the finest graf art in the Valley, colossal, colorful pieces featuring jumbo Krylon cans-turned-demons, Transformer-like robots, bandanna-wearing skulls and a hockey-masked Jason, straight out of Friday the 13th.

Those who think graffiti isn't art need only cruise down to Miranda's and inspect this outdoor art show. Kudos to Miranda for allowing talented spray-can wielders to get creative on his property, and to give the lie to the line that all graffiti is urban blight. Why, this art was so impressive that none other than County Attorney Andrew Thomas ripped off some of it for an anti-truancy flier that his office published. Alas, Thomas didn't even bother to contact the artist for permission, much less pay the guy. Still, a piece of the graffiti wall was used in the flier and a fake graf artist posed before it, the implication being that the art was illegal. In fact, it was painted onto a "legal wall." Does that make our county attorney a thief? If we were the artist, we'd make Andy answer that one in court, while we were suing his ass for copyright infringement.

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