The staff is always smiling and friendly and intelligent and helpful. Everything about the place is right, from the layout to the carpets to the colors to the number of windows. There are smart people pushing the buttons.
Sebastian Junger
Journalist and author. His books include The Perfect Storm and Fire.
Provincetown, Mass., used to be a fishing port. Although some fishing boats still work out of there, it's overwhelmingly a tourist town now. But in the middle of the B&Bs and restaurants and cafés, tucked into an old building on the waterfront that's been completely commercialized, is Flyer's Boat Yard. Flyer's has a railway that pulls boats out of the water for repairs. There's tackle and tools and old busted-up boats lying all over the place. Walking in there is like walking into the 19th century.
I first noticed Flyer's when I was about 20 years old. I was in Provincetown looking for a job. I was walking down the street and thought, "Oh, maybe I'll work in a boatyard." So I walked down a little dirt alley to the waterfront and tried to get a job there. I couldn't. But just last year I needed help putting in a mooring for my boat, so I had occasion to go back. Flyer must be in his eighties now, and he's still around.
I don't know Flyer that well, and I haven't done much business up there. But I love that place because it's a holdout against the bulldozer of commercialism that's changed Provincetown and so many other beautiful coastal towns.
Michael Dell
Founder and CEO of Dell Computer Corp.
There's a great little company in Austin called RunTex. It's owned by Paul Carrozza, the local running maven. He's got several stores that sell shoes, clothes -- all the stuff runners need. It's a real family business. You go to the stores and his wife is there. His kids are there. Carrozza loves running. And he loves to help people run. At RunTex it's not like, "Let me sell you these shoes." It's, "Let's talk about your feet." But it goes beyond that. Carrozza sponsors just about every road race in the city. He's incredibly community-minded -- a philanthropist. He's just so giving of his time.
Kevin Smith
Movie director and actor. His films include Clerks, Dogma, and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.
I own a comic-book store called Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash, in Red Bank, N.J. But it isn't just a comic-book store. If you're a fan of any of the five movies we've made, it's a destination resort. Of course, first and foremost, we sell comics, graphic novels, and trade paperbacks from all the labels, major and indie. We also sell toys, statues, posters, and other comic-book-related merchandise. Where we deviate from the standard comic-book store is in our blatant and almost vulgar self-promotion of tchotchkes from the flicks we've made. Looking for a signed Clerks poster? Buy it at the Stash. Must have the T-shirt that Jason Lee wore in Mallrats? We sell it. In desperate need of a miniature replica of the Buddy Christ statue from Dogma? You'll find it there. Can't live without Jay and Silent Bob action figures? We can fix your jones.
But what makes the store really special (at least for me) is that it's stacked, floor to ceiling, with props from the movies. Even if you don't want to buy anything at the Stash (shudder the thought), you can just come in and treat the place like a View Askew [Smith's production company] museum. There's the BluntMobile from Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, complete with life-size dummies of me and Jason Mewes driving. There's the grappling gun from Mallrats, the Poop Monster and the Mooby the Golden Calf statue from Dogma, and the original artwork and selected pieces of wardrobe from Chasing Amy. It's a fan's dream come true and a curious passerby's excellent way to kill 20 minutes.
Alan Furst
Spy novelist. His latest book, Blood of Victory, comes out in August.
C.C. Filson, in Seattle, makes the most extraordinary luggage, not like anything else in the world. I first came across their stuff four years ago in a store that sells supplies to hunters. I bought an incredible valise made out of canvaslike cloth and leather. I've taken it with me on a lot of planes since then, and it smells the same as the day I bought it.
Filson also makes something called "tin cloth" hunting jackets. They're very tough and soaked in paraffin, like English Barbour coats, so they're very water-repellent and won't snag on thorns. They also have a coat called the Tin Cruiser that has four large front pockets and a carrier pocket in back. The coat was designed by the company's founder, who used to hold a patent on it. Wouldn't you like to wear a patented coat?
The company has been in Seattle since 1897. I think in a funny way it's like L.L. Bean was at one time in its history. Everything there is very expensive but lasts forever. It will outlive you.
Mark Morris
Founder and artistic director of the Mark Morris Dance Group.
In my neighborhood, the Murray Hill section of Manhattan, there's a shop I adore called Kalustyan's. It's been there forever. It was founded in 1944 and then sold in 1987 to Aziz Osmani and Sayedul Alam, who are from Bangladesh. It's a spice and grocery and cookware store. It has everything for cooking from India and the Middle East, including stuff that you can't find anyplace else. Once I was cooking a big Balinese-style dinner -- a delicious gado-gado and a green curry -- and I went there for my krupuk, which are Indonesian shrimp crackers (they look like Styrofoam), and frozen kaffir lime leaves.
The business -- which also has a small restaurant counter on the second floor that serves fabulous falafel and hummus -- is meticulously, beautifully clean and well organized. It sells all kinds of breads and crackers (including papadam and nan) and nuts and dried fruits, as well as more than 30 kinds of rice and grains, all of which you can buy in bulk. It has chutneys, curry pastes, homemade yogurts, desserts (pista kulfi, or pistachio ice cream, is my favorite), coffees from countries ranging from Greece to Armenia, teas, cookbooks, incense, massage oils, shampoos, soaps, and hair dyes. And then there are tiny packages of things you can't identify. The place also sells staples -- condensed milk, for example, and ice-cube trays -- and cookware: small stainless-steel thali dishes from India and coffee boilers to make delicious Turkish coffee. It's got everything you would ever want. The owners are extra nice, and they give you a little free something if you buy enough stuff. I always tell them that I'm so thrilled to have found the thing I'm looking for, and they say, "Well, of course." It's a genius store.
