We love candles. All shapes, colors and sizes. The one factor we're not so good with is scent. Rosemary and vanilla--those are fine, but give us any candle with a strong botanical (read: flowery) scent and our nose goes on a rampage of sneeze. It was purely by accident that we discovered a candle heaven when wandering the aisles of Fiesta looking for a paddleball. Almost an entire aisle held all possible options of votives, perfect for creating an exhibit of Catholic idolatry right in our own home. Tall red, Lotería themed, St. Luke, La Virgen de Guadalupe, short white, rainbow striped, they have them all. Most of them are a dollar or less...and many are scent-free. We turned our dining room into a flickering altar of flaming saints for less than 10 bucks. And the best part is, since they come in glass containers, there's no need for candle dishes and no messy trails of wax. Amen!

After visiting this establishment, the smell of chicken wings and dust will conjure memories of digging through piles of military decorations, some with mysterious Cyrillic letters, making us wonder if we'd just awarded ourselves the Russian equivalent of the Medal of Honor. This shoebox of a shop is crammed with souvenirs of wars from all over the world, including lots of World War II memorabilia. The selection of uniform pieces (helmets, jackets, patches) is extensive and even includes some non-military outfits, such as vintage Boy Scout shirts.

Our experience with other stores that sell used CDs has been drought or flood, depending on who's been in lately to sell or trade. CD World's selection may not be of ark-requirement proportions every visit, but we've yet to leave empty-handed. The racks are divided by category and are in alphabetical order by artist with new, used and import CDs all together for quick comparison shopping. The local section is likewise well-stocked with both new and used (and we don't mean 10 copies of Deep Blue Something's Home and David Garza's entire back catalog).

Actually, this oughta be called "Best Kids Clothing Store That Sells Clothes Adults Would Wear If They Made These Clothes In Our Size." Or something. We'd never been in this place, in its Stonebriar location, till a few weeks ago, but what we saw delighted and amazed us--clothes for a 1-year-old boy that didn't have trucks or teddy bears or footballs or Rangers logos on them, anywhere. No, what lined the racks was this wondrous selection of canvas utility pants and button-down twill shirts and cable-knit sweaters--and nothing more than $26, with most of the stuff even on sale. What really amazed us, and warmed our Gen-X hearts that still beat to a new-wave soundtrack, were the retro ringer tees with robots and rocket ships emblazoned upon the chests and the long-sleeve cotton shirts displaying merit badges like something sold in the back of an old copy of Boys' Life. The clothes go from 0 to 4, for boys and girls, and if there's not a location near you, try the Web site (www.janieandjack.com). How's this for an ad slogan? Clothes worth having a kid for. Really, they can have it. Least we could do.

Readers' Pick

GapKids

Various locations

Good Records is exactly what you'd expect from a store run by a bunch of local musicians: the latest indie label offerings, early-release copies of local records and the entire catalogs of seminal artists. From imports of alternate versions of Radiohead's latest to the aural history of Bedhead, they're all carded on the yellow shelves lined with colored lightbulbs. And if it's not on hand, the staff happily obliges special orders. But don't expect to find CDs here you could pick up at Target for $12, such as the back catalog of Metallica, which, allegedly, a fan hoping to snag a CD to be autographed by a band member dining in nearby Deep Ellum found out the hard way. "Good records" to him was just a matter of opinion.

Someday, when those Lotto numbers finally hit, we'll do more than buy a throw pillow or just ogle the shimmering fabrics in this NorthPark shop. Maybe by then we'll have developed enough good taste to do justice to Silk Trading Co.'s vast collection of materials--they offer a selection of 2,400, from embroidered silks to cotton and linen, as well as paint and other goodies to fix up your mansion. More than simply a drapery store, they also do custom bedding and furniture; you pick the cloth, they cut and stitch it or use it to upholster couches and chairs sold at the shop. (Prices vary depending on the fabric. The cost of one style couch, for example, can range between $1,600 and $5,000.) Just the thing to dress up the trailer when that lottery ship comes sailing in, which we don't doubt will be any day now.

A Dallas institution, Dallas Costume Shoppe is the place to go if you're in need of an outfit for that gala costume ball or a Halloween bash. Producing a stage play? They can outfit the entire cast. Period costumes from as far back as Shakespeare and Greek mythology days, Roaring Twenties--you name it. If they don't have the costume you're looking for, you might reconsider your search, or take up sewing.Texas Costume (pictured below) is a theatrical supply company with clients across the country. They rent costumes to the general public as well as professionals and TV types. They sell and rent technical supplies, wigs, and make-up, but costumes can be rented only. Time periods of the costumes vary from biblical to the '70s. Costumes range from $59.95 to $79.95 for three days. And on Halloween, they'll hook you up. They have thousands of items, so if you want to be it, then damn it, they have it.

As the organic health-food business becomes increasingly corporate (see Whole Foods' shareholders), the real thing is alive and well in the heart of Oak Cliff. For 24 years, Ann Munchrath has dispensed vitamins to undernourished Cliff dwellers. In 1998 she, along with son Matt and other family members, took a leap of faith and opened an organic grocery store that is the only thing of its kind south of the Trinity. The custom-built store is stocked with a healthy selection of rice cakes, whole grains, a mind-boggling selection of soy and rice milks, frozen dinners and just about every other organic food a health nut could want. Fruits and vegetables, bought from the Farmer's Market, are restocked daily. The meat section, though small, includes such rarities as Texas-raised lamb and bison. There is also a café that serves up smoothies, fresh juice, frozen yogurts and a chicken sandwich that will keep you coming back for more.

We're not giving this award because Sayre got us some sweet deal on a high-value property. In fact, he didn't even sell our house (we ended up renting it out), and our first two deals on the homes we wanted to buy fell through. We're giving this to him because he's everything you'd want in a real estate agent: fair, considerate, tough when he needs to be, honest and knowledgeable. We were the lowest-priced property in his portfolio (hey, we're in journalism), yet he never let us feel second-rate. He attended to every detail, he was always positive and he never got angry, even when we pulled out of two deals at the last possible minute over details some agents would consider minor. He never pressured us. "You do what you feel is necessary," he said an hour before an option deadline. "It's your house, not mine, and you need to know you're doing the right thing." Because of his decency, the home we finally bought was the right one. What else could you want in your real estate agent?

Back when the Trading Co. first opened its doors some two years ago, it was possible to peruse its racks and stumble across the rare and valuable oddity--say, the Criterion Collection This is Spinal Tap or The Usual Suspects, which was then out of print. It's a little harder to find such gems now that everyone, including your mom, has a DVD player; there's always someone digging through the bins, looking for a collectible to keep or sell on eBay. These days, we value the Movie Trading Co. for these reasons: For a few bucks, you can rent any disc in the store (just-released or very old) for five whole days (take that, Blockbuster); and the videotape bins are overflowing with odds and sods we never knew existed (a few months ago, we picked up hours' worth of Captain America and Captain Marvel serials dating back to the 1940s, and not long before that, we found a highlight reel of the New York Giants-Cleveland Indians 1954 World Series, and our pops was plenty pleased). It's kinda like Half Price Books: You walk in looking for one thing, and you walk out with five things you didn't know you needed.