25 Things I Love About Dallas
A tribute to the best things that make Dallas, well—Dallas.
(Page 2 of 2)
13. As I sat in Pegasus Plaza one Thursday evening enjoying a FREE CONCERT by the local rock band Mur, I thought about a column I'd read in the Dallas Morning News in which Steve Blow questioned a guidebook's assertion that downtown Dallas is a "vibrant social center." Wrote Blow: "A vibrant social center? Someday, we hope." Well, all I can say is, if it's not vibrant, it isn't the fault of booster groups like the Downtown Partnership and the Downtown Improvement District, who pack the calendar with free musical events from happy-hour jazz concerts to lunchtime performances by the likes of Joe King Carrasco and Brave Combo. downtowndallas.org/downtown_partners or downtowndallas.org/did.htm.
14. I thought they were giving away Botox injections when I pulled into the jam-packed parking lot at SAM MOON TRADING COMPANY. But no, it was just the same old shopping frenzy that takes place all the time at this wholesale outlet for baubles, bags, and more. I entered the fray (where signs implored customers to "Please shop neatly") with the superior air of an anthropologist, bemused by the natives' zeal for purses emblazoned with black and white images of Elvis or Marilyn, rhinestone tarantula brooches as big as your hand, giant flowered duffel bags, and metallic hair scrunchies. And what did I leave with? A little less superiority and a lot of sparkling artifacts, including a hot-pink beaded evening purse ($15) and several colorful Austrian-crystal bracelets ($3.95 each). 11635 Harry Hines Boulevard, 972-484-3084, sammoongroup.com. Closed Sunday.
15. Down at the eastern end of Deep Ellum, a safe distance from the theme bars, tattoo parlors, and outlandish attitudes, sits an unassuming two-story building whose only exterior flash is a red-and-teal neon sign identifying it as the SONS OF HERMANN HALL. But inside this Dallas landmark, built in 1911 by a German fraternal order, things are hopping—at least at the Wednesday-night swing classes in the upstairs ballroom, a yesteryear scene complete with blue velvet swags on the windows, a mirrored ball dangling from the coffered ceiling, and a worn wooden floor underfoot. Earnest students from teenagers to grandmothers, dressed in everything from grungewear to zoot suits, circle around the two dance instructors for an hour-long lesson in East Coast jitterbug. Just remember: side-side-rock-step; bounce on two and four; keep tension in the arms; he's a door and she's a hinge; don't let the elbow go behind the back—and ta-da! The next thing you know, you're cutting a rug. 3414 Elm, 214-747-4422, sonsofhermann.com. Wednesdays at 9 p.m.; $5 cover.
16. Whether it's showcasing contemporary sculpture or a collection of rare decorative furnishings crafted in the 1800's, the AFRICAN AMERICAN MUSEUM shines an unwavering light on the black experience. In the permanent exhibit "Facing the Rising Sun: Freedman's Cemetery," the museum illuminates a dark episode in Dallas' past. In the forties and fifties a portion of this cemetery, platted in 1869, was cavalierly destroyed during the construction of North Central Expressway; the desecration wasn't publicly acknowledged until the eighties, when the expressway was slated for widening. This time, 1,150 bodies were painstakingly exhumed and reinterred on land adjacent to the remaining cemetery. More than 13,000 artifacts were also removed, from ceramic dolls to seashells that once decorated the graves. But the fate of the cemetery's dead is no more poignant than the memories of the living, captured on video. One elderly man, for instance, recalls the time when he and his friends were allowed into Fair Park—now the museum's home—only one day a year. 3536 Grand Avenue, 214-565-9026, aamdallas.org. Closed Monday; free.
17. On the Sunday morning I visited MOCKINGBIRD POINT DOG PARK, one of only two public spaces in the city where pups can frolic leash-free, joie de vivre was rampant: spontaneous games of tag with complete strangers, plunges into the muddy wading pool, impulsive yips of joy, scavenger hunts for edible tidbits on the well-trampled ground, and much sniffing of private areas. Oh, and the dogs seemed to be having fun too. 8000 Mockingbird Lane, on the north shore of White Rock Lake; dallasdogparks.org. Closed Monday.
18. Are there times when nothing but a bottle of Frostie Blue Cream Soda the color of Tidy Bowl will quench your thirst? Or maybe you can't face another Monday-morning meeting without a hit of Kickapoo Joy Juice, the Original Dogpatch Recipe? Then—no ifs, ands, or buts—you must pop into IFS ANDS & BUTTS in the Bishop Arts District of Oak Cliff. I've written about this extremely focused niche market before—we're talking only tobacco products and 135-plus soft drinks from around the world—but its oddball pairing is as endlessly fascinating as, say, Liz Taylor and that construction guy. 408 N. Bishop, 888-712-8887, ifsandsbutts.com.
19. If fame comes in quarter-hour increments, why not arts education? During the lunchtime 15-MINUTE FRIDAYS at the Dallas Museum of Art, a staff member or volunteer dispenses a digestible amount of edification on one piece of the museum's vast collection. Go ahead: Ask me something about that pale-green bearlike mask wreathed in sticks. Yes, it was made by the Yup'ik, the culture considered the cradle of Eskimo civilization, and was probably used as a storytelling tool or ceremonial prop during the late nineteenth century. So there. Every Friday at 12:45 at the Dallas Museum of Art, 1717 N. Harwood, 214-922-1200, dallasmuseumofart.org; $6, senior citizens and ages 12 through 17 $4, free with receipt from either of the museum's two restaurants.
20. I've never felt more solidarity with Dallasites than I did on the KATY TRAIL, a 2.2-mile corridor of greenery smack-dab in the middle of the urban jungle. Sure, a couple of the in-line skaters and gazellelike sprinters were so perfectly toned and attired they appeared to be computer-generated, but the rest were lumpy, sweat-soaked, self-conscious, plodding, and pear-shaped—my people! Although the trail, built on a section of the defunct Katy Railroad line, is twelve feet wide and paved, cyclists should attempt it only if they have a thing for riding through an obstacle course of exhausted and oblivious humans, especially on weekends, when an estimated three thousand urbanites pound the pavement each day. Friends of the Katy Trail, 214-303-1180, katytraildallas.org. Official access points at Knox near Abbott Avenue and up a forty-foot flight of WPA steps from Reverchon Park. Closed midnight to 5 a.m.
21. Every gal remembers her first—pedicure, that is. And it's especially memorable if you happen to have exchanged pleasantries with Robert Altman—also in for his first—while waiting your turn at the PAULA MCCLURE MOOD SPA. But even without the celebrity sightings at this understated establishment, you're not likely to forget the treatment your tootsies receive during an Essential Mood Pedicure, complete with a sensuous foot rub, while the rest of your body is distracted by the undulations of your massage-chair throne. But be forewarned: Beautiful feet can be hazardous. When I left the spa, I was so enthralled with my perfect pink toenails that I couldn't take my eyes off them and walked right into a tree, much to the amusement of the diners at a nearby sidewalk cafe. 2723 McKinney Avenue, 214-303-1223
22. NGOZI'S, a jubilantly chaotic shop of African fashions, is tucked away in Wynnewood Village, a tidy Eisenhower-era shopping center with a forest of mature oaks and a parking lot as complex as the Jersey Turnpike. Although owner Churchline "Ngozi" Penny favors the subdued and authentic caftans made of mud cloth, a coarse, earth-tone fabric from Mali ($59 to $89), most of her shop is given over to more resplendent attire, like chieftains' outfits of purple velvet imprinted with gold elephants ($150 to $299) and everyday tunics in eye-popping prints ($59 to $89). Accessories include cowrie-shell caps ($19.99) and cummerbunds and bow ties made from red-black-and-green Kente cloth ($39.99 for a set). One regular customer, Nneka Okonkwo, buys material here for her own designs. She's partial to the iridescent patterned silk fabric known as "george." "We Nigerians are the only ones that wear it," she says. "We love to dress up real flashy." 137 Wynnewood, 214-942-1775. Closed Sunday.
23. The sunset viewed through the glass wall of the Meyerson Symphony Center was pretty flamboyant, but it had nothing on the evening's performance by the TURTLE CREEK CHORALE, a two-hundred-member gay men's choir. A tribute to Elton John, "The Soundtrack of Our Lives"—featuring everything from "Candle in the Wind" to songs from The Lion King—was a whirl of sequins, feather boas, outrageous eyewear and platform shoes, and hats so gaudy they'd make a pimp blush. My favorite moments were when the full choir sang a cappella and the sound transcended all the glitzy props and campy affectations and filled the hall with pure beauty. Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center, 2301 Flora, 800-494-8497. Turtle Creek Chorale, 214-526-3214 or 800-746-4412, turtlecreek.org.
24. The roosters may have been banished from old Oak Cliff and Starbucks may be moving in, but there's still enough personality in this collection of historic 'hoods—the vibrant Hispanic business district on Jefferson Boulevard, complete with pushcarts selling paletas; picturesque Lake Cliff Park, dating back to 1906; the rambling ranch-style houses in the rolling hills of hyperlandscaped Kessler Park—to make you forget the homogeneity of points farther north. I fell hardest, however, for WINNETKA HEIGHTS, developed in the early 1900's. At fifty square blocks, it's the largest historic district in Dallas and—thanks to a period of neglect in the seventies, when it was redlined by banks and ignored by developers—the most intact. The shady streets are lined with bungalows and Prairie-style houses, their faces (wide-eyed windows flanking a door's open mouth) peering out from behind deep porches. Southwest of downtown between I-30 and I-35, bordered by Davis on the north, Twelfth on the south, Rosemont on the west, and Willomet on the east; winnetkaheights.com.
25. The mammoth HONG KONG MARKET PLACE is the Asian answer to Central Market. Its selection of noodles alone—at least fifty varieties, I'm guessing—commands one whole side of a 75-foot-long, 8-foot-high aisle. When I visited, live tilapia, lobsters, and eels languidly awaited their fate, but the serve-yourself blue crabs ($2.49 a pound) were determined not to go without a fight. The packaged foods were alluringly enigmatic. Would I rather wet my whistle with chrysanthemum beverage, grass jelly drink, or pennywort juice? And even though the price was right (59 cents for a bag of ten), would I dare try Guozhi Bang High Food: Kool-Aid-colored liquids encapsulated in what looked like horse suppositories? Although I was fascinated by the soy protein in the shapes of tuna steaks and little chickens and the dozens of varieties of bulk ginseng, I felt more comfortable around the fresh produce, especially the lush greens such as yu choy, cai ngot, and ong choy. I also liked the store's straightforward marketing. The sign above a pile of durian, a tropical fruit that resembles a football with serious goose bumps, read "Buy at your own risk. We will not guarantee you'll like the taste." 9780 Walnut, Suite 360; 972-437-9888.
Pages: 1 2
My Library
