If your goal is to experience the luxury and selection of the Galleria but to avoid the insane parking and crowds, then check out Highland Village. All of the staples are there: the Gap, Banana Republic, Victoria's Secret and, of course, Starbucks. But the area also includes fine apparel stores such as Tootsies, Cole-Haan and the always cool Anthropologie, where you will find clothes, bath products, rosebud lip salve, rugs and bedding. The shopping center also is home to James Avery, a reasonably priced, high-quality jewelry store that carries classic cross pendants and heaps of charms -- everything from frogs to the Texas seal. If you get hungry, grab a bite at P.F. Chang's, or if you have a fatter wallet, Anthony's. After eating, explore Pottery Barn, the store we know Martha Stewart loves. Norton Ditto is close by if you need a "gentleman's clothier since 1908." After a fulfilling day of shopping, stop by Omaha Steaks and buy some filet mignon to throw on the grill at home.

The beautiful people stroll regularly through Kenneth Lester's door, perhaps because of his reputation, perhaps because of his location, in the Page Parkes building in River Oaks. But while Lester is appropriately fabulous, there is substance to his style. For years the med student-turned-triathlete-turned-chiropractor has been breaking his back to mend those of his eclectic mix of patients. His facility, which he shares with partner Elizabeth Baker, features the standard chiropractic wares as well as his brand of total-body wellness, so it's not surprising to overhear the good doctor berating executives about their expanding waistlines or late-night desserts. Lester dispels the stereotype of "med school flunky" by offering unsolicited dissertations on muscle function, flexibility and stress control. His casual bedside manner is refreshing, too; he chats about music and good lunch spots while fluidly readjusting a patient's spinal column. To hear first the "aarrgh" then the "aahhhh" is a guilty pleasure -- until it's your turn.

Those Aussies who make Nads are big dirty liars. No, Crocodile Dundee, we do not like putting Nads on our face, our hairy back, or anywhere. It hurts. Dear Lord, it hurts. That's why we turn to electrolysis's technologically advanced younger sister, laser hair removal, and to the bedside manner of Dr. Esta Kronberg. Her staff takes all the time needed to answer every question and soothe every anxiety. And that's without an appointment even. Sure, it doesn't come cheap. At $800 a treatment (about five sessions in total) for a guy with a Robin Williams-like back, it's not for everybody. In some cases, such as unusual hair growth, which may signify a potential hormone problem, an arrangement can be made through insurance. The treatments are significantly shorter than having those electrified tweezers poke at you, with a total removal lasting only half an hour. There are cases where some fuzz will grow back, but a few follow-ups will fix that. Does it hurt? Somewhat. Painless hair removal is apocryphal. We'd like to believe it exists. Laser removal burns a bit, but the good doctor will give you some ointment to ease the pain.

It's not so much that she has done an excellent job of training a particular canine, it's that Patricia Mercer has been instrumental in ensuring hundreds of dogs a happy relationship with their new owners. As executive director of the SPCA, Mercer oversees a training program that gives larger dogs a better chance of being adopted. In addition to nudging people toward continued training for pups of any size, the SPCA provides adoption follow-up to guarantee that new owners provide the right care and make their new pet a welcome addition to the household.

If these guys can fix a glockenspiel music-box clock built in 1800 with all-wood mechanisms (which they can), just imagine what wonders they can work with that collection of old watches that's sitting in your bathroom drawer. Serving time since 1947, the shop has six folks on staff with degrees from watchmaking school, and they can often do the work while you stand there and gawk. The labor ain't cheap (it can run $14 to fix a clasp), but you want to wear that Swatch again, don't you?

Start clowning around -- it could earn you a cool 35 large a year. Instructor Larry Kibbey, 76, has been clowning since 1949 and has written seven books on the subject, so he's got the Bozo thing down pat. He's also the patriarch of what he calls the world's largest family of clowns and magicians -- 14 fabulous entertainers in all. Kibbey learned at the gigantic shoes of four of the most famous Ringling Bros. clowns of the past century, and now he's ready to show you the Way of the Honking Nose. For $600, you get seven two-hour courses on things like the history of clowning, costuming, makeup and balloon sculpting. Some of his goofy grads have found jobs working in Hollywood or for Disney. And lest you think that there's no moolah in acting the fool, Kibbey claims he once earned $49,000 for four days' work clowning around for alkies and crackheads at a state hospital. That's over $12,000 a day. Who's laughing now?

Did your understanding of Spanish stop somewhere between agua and adiós? Well, Leisure Learning Unlimited offers an imaginative way for you to habla mas español. For about $200, you can take LLU's accelerated Spanish classes, which combine role-playing, singing and dancing to maximize your learning potential. The small classes (12 to 14) meet once a week for three hours, for eight weeks total. At the end of each class, the teacher plays soft music and uses relaxation techniques to etch the day's lessons into your long-term memory. For those more accustomed to traditional book learnin', LLU offers other classes for around $80. So what are you waiting for? ¡Vamos!

The sign in the window of Savers promises "4000 new items daily," and they're not kidding. This cavernous thrift store has every type of clothing, along with a variety of housewares and some furniture, on sale for cheap, cheap, cheap. Start your shopping trip by picking up one of Savers' complimentary shopping carts or big red-and-white bags so as to better collect your goodies. Then it's off to the hunt. Explore the entire wall covered in shoes, or check out the dishware (all mugs only 49 cents!). There are regular 50-percent-off sales, and unlike many thrift stores, Savers welcomes exchanges. The store is nice and clean, with huge aisles for easy strolling. Store employees have taken care to make sure the high-quality clothes aren't jammed in too tightly, so sorting through the hundreds of women's dresses or men's shirts isn't difficult. For those who think Savers sounds too highbrow to be a real thrift store, no worries. There are plenty of weird, hidden treasures to be found. How about a semi-bizarre framed painting of two flamingos titled Miami Nights for only $1.99?

Perhaps you've always craved a sterling silver tea set, or a vintage rhinestone brooch or a velvet couch. From the sublimely beautiful to the ridiculously tacky, the Guild Shop has it all -- and at great prices. Because parishioners at the upscale St. John the Divine Church donate their often valuable castoffs to this church-sponsored resale shop, fancy but outdated designer clothes, jewelry and sterling abound. Watch prices fall with monthly markdowns, but beware: Antiques dealers regularly scout for bargains and swoop down when prices drop. The mostly elderly volunteers are sweet if a little slow; patience in the checkout line is a must.

Tucked just a few blocks away from the main vintage clothing drag on Westheimer is Houston's best-kept resale secret, The Way We Wore. Its locale, an old Montrose home, gives the place heaps of character. And inside you'll find a resale shopper's dream -- the place is chock-full of high-quality outfits from the days when your grandmother still liked to party. To help keep the decades straight, owner Pam Nunnally has sorted her goodies into the Martini Room, the Love Room and the '70s Disco Room, so you'll know where to go whether you're in search of that perfect cocktail dress or a pair of swinging bell-bottoms. If you're the type who wants to dress up old-school only once in a while, The Way We Wore also rents outfits, so you'll be a one-of-a-kind at any prom or costume party. But the best thing about The Way We Wore, and the thing that's lacking from those giants on Westheimer, is the personal attention you'll get from Nunnally, who has a great eye for picking out the perfect outfit for any figure.