TRENDS

STUNNA SHADES: "Stunnas" refers to the type of oversized sunglasses that make the Terminator's wraparounds look modest by comparison. Worn 'round the clock, indoors and outdoors, and most especially behind the wheel, where nobody can see or be impressed by the designer label orbiting your plumber's crack or how trim your phone/iPod/Blackberry/waist/goatbeard is. Modeled after old-style aviator glasses, stunnas are celebrated in song by Federation featuring E-40, whose "Stunna Glasses at Night" (remaking Corey Hart's "Sunglasses at Night") surely represents the only time someone has ever rhymed "Spider Man" with "cayenne" ("Gotta pair make me look like Spider Man/ same color of the pepper called cayenne/ at night no sun don't need a tan/ old school like a string and tin can").CELL PHONE STRAPS: The first time I saw a young lady in slinky attire reach down near her shoe to answer a ringing phone (this past month, at Stingaree), I thought the Maxwell Smart shoe-phone had finally been invented. I soon noticed others with phones strapped to their ankles, courtesy of the CPC (cell phone case) Strap by HTL Wireless (around $50 retail). Also worn on the wrist and arm, where multifunction phones meant to impress with lots of LCD lights tend to make the wearer look like an uncharacteristically fashionable Borg from Star Trek, one whose game involves stating -- however subliminally -- "I will assimilate you, resistance is futile." Users have found the Strap can be worn with portable music players, enabling proliferation in public applications outside those denoted by scant clothing and a dearth of pockets. Some use their Straps to carry a cell phone flask, which hides four ounces of your favorite libation within a realistic-looking dummy phone, the new-millennium version of a Pepsi sticker for beer cans.

ECOLOGICAL GAS: Back when Kermit T. Frog sang, "It's Not Easy Bein' Green," truer words were never croaked. Nowadays, though, even the Academy Awards have gone green, and there's no reason you can't too, even if you think "ecology" is a math course at City College. Alternative fuels such as ethanol first became available locally in 2003, with the opening of the RTC Fuel Depot on El Cajon Boulevard. Offering nine types of fuel, six of them for AFVs (alternative fuel vehicles) and three for bi-fuel, flex-fuel, and conventional cars, their biodiesel tank was the first in the city to dispense fuel made from recycled french fry grease. Now known as the Pearson Ford Fuel Depot, they carry a biodiesel made from soybeans called "BioWillie," named after country singer Willie Nelson, who endorses it and christened the West Coast's first BioWillie pump in a Pearson ceremony last year, when he poured several golden gallons into his tour-bus tank.

BOOZE IN DISGUISE: So-called "alcopop" is alcohol that looks like a soft drink. Fruity flavors sporting pastel labels are so easily mistaken for soda that teenagers brazenly display and consume them on area high school campuses, prompting the drinks to be nicknamed "cheerleader beer." Seagram's Pineapple Coconut Calypso Colada is blue and smells like suntan lotion, making it ideal for surreptitious sipping, while Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade -- pink, with 5.2 percent alcohol -- looks and smells so innocuous that, in unmarked containers, it could fool even a taste test by enquiring figures of authority (cops, employers, teachers, parents, etc.). Needless to say, this irks said authorities, automatically guaranteeing alcopop as trendy for teens.

COCAINE ENERGY DRINK: "Instant rush," "no crash!" and "possible feelings of euphoria" are among the promises made on the website for Cocaine Energy Drink. "San Diego is one of the two cities test-marketing this brand, which has the same effects as [the drug] cocaine," says Dannah Hosford of the Youth Advocacy Coalition, which has petitioned local retailers to stop stocking the drink. "Cocaine has three and a half more times caffeine than Red Bull and is being marketed as legal liquid cocaine. It numbs the throat and causes a euphoric rush...7-Eleven has already pulled them off the shelves, and Circle K is considering it. I mean, it's just another way of putting drugs directly into kids' hands." At around two dollars per can, Cocaine contains around 280 milligrams of caffeine (a cup of coffee usually tops out at around 100 milligrams).

FENG SHUI HAIRCUTS: So you want your head to enjoy a positive energy flow, or "chi," as they say in China. First you fill out a form, with personal data such as your astrological sign, if you like sugar, and whether or not your diet includes meat. The cut begins with the stylist holding a compass near your head, since direction is related to intended results (cutting north is said to enhance romantic success). Followers of feng shui will tell you that the wrong haircut interrupts your positive energy flow, bringing bad luck along with those bad-hair days and preventing you from achieving success in life's endeavors, something working women and aging hippies have long known and decried. Cosmically balanced haircuts average around $200.

BREEDER BLING: Just because you're rolling a rug rat doesn't mean you can't aim to impress with the Cadillac of baby buggies. A Rock Star Baby Infinity Stroller enables the well-heeled parents of La Jolla, Del Mar, and Rancho Santa Fe to keep up with any Jones on the (gated) block, weighing in at 24 pounds and averaging around $500. It comes with height-adjustable handles, multiple-position features, car-seat adaptability, a removable hood, lockable swivel front wheels, and air-inflated pneumatic rear tires for a smooth ride no matter how bumpy the parking lot at Neiman Marcus (in case the escalator gives you a flat, an air pump is included). You can thank/blame the revered/reviled Jon Bon Jovi, who endorses/sells the stroller/status symbol alongside partner/drummer Tico Torres (possibly/probably best known/notorious for marrying/divorcing model/uh...model Eva Herzigova).

GRAMMATIQUE BAGS AND PURSES: Frequently seen on the scene and dusting the bar at style-centered events such as Club Fashion Whore -- held twice monthly at San Diego Sports Club -- these individually handmade bags and purses have all the colors of a Deadhead's T-shirt closet, but with stylistic touches such as the occasional silk necktie purse strap. Embroidered bags of Asian influence come with their own attached "chopsticks," just one of the whimsical touches lavished by local designer Krystina Grammatica, who calls herself "the Grecian Dynamo" (referring to her ethnic heritage and the prolific bursts of energy that go into her creations). Some of the more oblong Grammatique purses that dangle bear unfortunate resemblance to festive colostomy bags, but they're the ideal accessory for snaking a week's worth of chow off the all-you-can-eat buffet.

INDIVIDUALLY SEWN JEANS: The Earnest Sewn label frequently adorns the jeans of scenesters slipping past the velvet ropes at Belo, Aubergine, and On Broadway. Each pair is hand-stamped and certified by the designer, as well as by the stitcher (who uses no machine guide, adding to each pair's uniqueness), the hand-sander who sandpapers your pants into submission for you, and the "wet process technician" who washes the jeans, resin coats them, and oven bakes them to perfection ($100 to $200). Other trendy trousers include super-snug Serfontaine Rocksteady jeans for ladies, so tight that farting in them makes it appear as though a mouse is running down your pant leg. Organic cotton jeans by Loomstate -- said to be both ecologically and aesthetically friendly -- can cost upwards of $175, but there's a variety of organic jeanwear available around town from Japanese designers that'll leave a few shekels in the pockets of your dungarees.

WOOL FILA WARMUP JACKETS: Styled for the gym but priced for the VIP lounge, Filas for women come supermodel-sized and sugar-daddy priced, at around $225 to $250. Fila jackets in semi-solid colors are seen at clubs where people in Gap khakis congregate to drink Peroni and martinis, such as the House of Blues (before 10 p.m. anyways, when they make you switch from glass to plastic cups). Also spotted at Moondoggies in PB, where women in Filas are usually accompanied by obsessively coiffed dates in button-down collared frat-boy shirts that look as if the wearers had just attended the same sale or were members of a club or profession requiring mandatory uniforms.

OVERSIZE PRINT SHIRT-SKIRTS: V-neck and U-neck long-torso shirts with large imprinted images often double as skirts in both casual and dressy settings. Local designer Sally Smith describes her Sally Bee line of oversize shirt-skirts as "driven by color, texture, and print." Originally schooled by way of a degree in industrial product design, her contributions to local sartorial style include polka-dot dresses ($52), "big feather" printed tees ($56), and "crane tunics" with stand-alone avian images splashed so large across the fabric that they nearly qualify as crane Halloween costumes ($58).

BOARDIES BEACH SHORTS: Not just for the beach and Jimmy Buffett concerts, Boardies (average $70) are de rigueur duds weekends at the 710 Beach Club (formerly Blind Melons), usually topped by either an Oklahoma State shirt (Saturdays) or a Chicago Bears jersey (Sundays). Boardies are also common at the Live Wire dive bar, seen sticking to the beer-marinated seats of their popular "leatherette booth." Bicyclists favor the same shorts, at the same venue, where cell-phone snappers are constantly digitizing Boardie-clad cyclists posing near the wrecked bike "sculpture" out front.

TROVATA CREW AND POLO SHIRTS: Faves at trendsetting Barneys in NYC ($50 to $125) and worn by urbane, upwardly inclined males wherever hipsters, hip-hoppers, and hair farmers congregate like lint in a dryer trap. Red is the shade favored by fashionistas at places such as Bar Dynamite in Mission Hills, where everything is crimson, from the lighting to the booths to the bathroom walls. A $20 credit card minimum helps weed out the riff-raff, presumably and hopefully rendering you safe from barroom assault by Blood-hating Crips to whom the color red is gangsta-speak for "Shoot me today so my friends can record a hip-hop eulogy to me tomorrow." Outside, you're on your own, so bring that neutral gray hoodie.

GRAY HOODIES: Still in style -- or more accurately in style again -- 15 years after Grunge made it cool to look Canadian (no easy feat). Popular zip-up models include several with large round "rudder" zippers resembling door knockers. Hoodies are a fave at the Casbah, no matter the theme of that night's entertainment, with shades varying all the way from gray to black and seen on everyone from Ben the door guy to the bartenders to scenesters in the courtyard ignoring the band and wearing their hoods up, pretending they don't want to be seen wanting to be seen.

RED CARPET STAPLES: Yves Saint Laurent, Calvin Klein, Versace, and Prada remain perennials at clubs and dinner emporiums where household-name designers are as cred-worthy as a platinum charge card. These blue-chip bling-slingers are all over the crowd at Aubergine on Fourth and Island, where trendy patrons watch each other using cell phones or text messaging at the bar rail to place drink orders for seated buddies. The club is so tuned to the Calvin Klein beat that even staff uniforms are personally provided by the designer whose very name is synonymous with fashionable jeans, iconic underwear, and bottled aromas with purportedly aphrodisiac qualities.

THAT '70s STYLE: Frock-of-ages gear dating back to the polyester decade is guaranteed to inspire an eight-track flashback, no matter how funkadelic your parliament, whether you're building a Brady Bunch or boogieing nights away with Donna Summer, all winter, until you fall. Platforms, go-go boots, jumpsuits, and hip-huggers with bell-bottoms wide enough for Arlo Guthrie to smuggle two or three keys into Los Angel-eeze with -- all turn up at retro hideouts such as the Zombie Lounge, where rockabilly types mix with heavy-metal hairballs and girls batting powder-blue eyelids beneath Bettie Page bangs. Found at area second-handers specializing in pre-worn clothing, pre-donned hats, pre-handled gloves, and pre-disposed sunglasses that have gone in and out of fashion at least a half-dozen times since the date of their manufacture.

THAT '80s STYLE: It's back in all its pastel-and-chiffon glory -- even the shoulder pads built like twin aircraft carriers -- particularly at places such as the Beauty Bar, which looks for all the world like the photos we used to see of European nightclubs frequented by Boy George, Adam Ant, and Rod Stewart. Rosey at sddialedin.blogspot.com says of one Beauty Bar visit: "Suddenly, I had an epiphany, courtesy of Napoleon Dynamite: a side ponytail...So many beautiful people, so many unfortunate fashion choices. Tiered ruffly skirts. Track shorts and white slouch boots. Tight, stripey T-shirt dresses. I miss the eighties as much as anyone, they were good times for me, but the fashion trends do not merit resurrection.... Every time we went to the bar, the price of the drinks went up $2 -- $6 [went to] $8 [then to] $10. They must have noticed that I wasn't wearing leg warmers or a tube top and fined me accordingly."

BABYDOLL CLOTHES AND ACCESSORIES: Originally adopted from rave culture, babydoll gear is often inspired by 'toon toddlers such as Strawberry Shortcake, Little Lulu, and My Little Pony, with frilly touches that used to be more closely associated with the good ship Lollipop than the Gaslamp. Plastic wristbands by Queen of Plastics are popular accessories, as are necklaces with baby pacifiers cast in gold or silver (as opposed to actual, functional pacifiers favored by ravers worried about gnashing their teeth on ecstasy).

CREAM CAFE

AND NEIGHBOURHOOD BOUTIQUE

4496 Park Boulevard

619-260-1917 (Cream) 619-296-2100 (Neighbourhood)

www.creamcoffeebar.com, www.neighbourhoodboutique.com

Taking up most of the 4400 block of Park Boulevard, Cream is fully loaded; coffee, tea, sandwiches, beer, wine, Internet, art, all waiting for those who need to be caffeinated, fed, imbibed, inspired, pulsed in, and wired up. There's the Mexican Mocha or the trademarked Mint Ginger Mojito (virgin), the addictive chocolate-chip coffee cake, or their turkey-cheese-avocado-on-sourdough. Gourmet chocolate from boutique chocolatier Eclipse is a popular item, and Cream now offers a selection of intense desserts, including one ominously dubbed the "Chocolate Bomb." Ambient music pumps from hidden corner speakers; under a glowing red LED light, wine sits in iron racks, glasses waiting above. There's even a chess set.

Over the seven months Cream has been open, owner Chris Coggan has updated his menu, which first featured a handful of sandwiches and pastries and has now expanded to the most recent addition, a blended tomato, cream, and artichoke soup known as "Tomatochoke." The creator of several custom smoothies, Coggan has expanded his dessert counter, which at one time offered the standard fare of Rice Krispie treats and chocolate chip cookies but now includes a selection of decadent desserts. There is the aforementioned Chocolate Bomb, popular with the Cream staff, a smooth, rich mousse covered with a dark chocolate shell and topped with an ornamental dollop of cream. The fruit tart, a hearty slab of crust, custard, and glazed strawberries, kiwi slices, and blueberries, is Coggan's personal treat of choice. He's also incorporated a selection of chocolate truffles, brownies, and bars made by local chocolatier Eclipse. Eclipse taps into the more serious side of chocolate. Some of the "infusions" are adventurous, like the peppered fig and goat cheese (and the poppy seed and anise) truffles. Some are definitely not for the faint of palate; one of the brownies includes, along with a milder hazelnut flavor, a startling hit of chili.

Coffee is still the main focus. There's Guatemalan, French, Hawaiian hazelnut, and a host of others, depending on the day. Coggan orders exclusively from Cafe Moto, a local company that roasts fair-trade coffee. At Cream, the ways it can be doctored span almost as many continents: there's the Vietnamese, espresso mixed with sweetened condensed milk; the Mexican Mocha, a blend of coffee, chocolate, cinnamon, and nutmeg; and Coffee Au Lait (coffee with steamed milk). It's no wonder that "Cream" is actually an acronym, from the illustrious statement "Coffee Rules Everything Around Me," a title Coggan stole (and adapted) from the Wu-Tang Clan song "Cash Rules Everything Around Me." This is not without irony; when Coggan first got the idea for his business, the coffee aspect wasn't even a consideration. His intention was only to lease a small space behind Cream for his clothing store, Neighbourhood, which he runs with business partner Christine McLaughlin. Around the corner from Cream, Neighbourhood is stocked half with vintage items, half with small-label, small-batch brands. Rhinestone-studded, ruby-red slip-on flats mingle with hand-screened hoodies; limited-edition jewelry and military-styled caps hang from carefully dressed mannequins. Neighbourhood was the intention all along; Cream was a happy accident gone wild. "I had to buy this business in order to ensure that my sublease would be recognized by whomever was going to buy the building," Coggan explains, "[and] because the owner had to sell, he could have sold to somebody who would have kicked my ass right out. So, I basically had to take out a big second on my house and buy a coffeehouse."

With his soul patch beard and stylishly bed-headed hairdo, Coggan looks more like your older brother's cool friend than a business owner. He's energetic and friendly and knows many of his regular customers by name. So does his staff, an eclectic bunch of young men and women who have all the hipness -- edgy haircuts, funky clothes, discriminating musical tastes -- associated with baristas but none of the pretense. The clientele has responded; while a few know Coggan and company from their pre-Cream days, many regulars have befriended them through the new shop.

Before starting his clothing-and-coffee business, Coggan was exclusively an artist and designer. He has a background in both graffiti art and more "traditional" logo branding, experience he used to create his own design firm, Coggan Creative. The tailoring of Cream evokes the spark of the street and the tempered sleekness of a creative, communal working space. Part of this is due to the building itself, which has a mid-'70s look, but Coggan is largely responsible for a complete renovation and redecoration. The result runs an interesting gamut between warehouse chic and neo-art deco, with ergonomic (and surprisingly comfortable), minimalist-inspired furniture, exposed-beam ceilings, and a sheer vastness. The back wall features an abstract, pastel-colored mural of overlapping, oval-ended lines -- painted by Coggan himself -- while the front of the store is dominated by plate-glass windows that overlook Park Boulevard. Coggan's graffiti influence isn't lost either; on the building's sides are two massive spray-paint pieces of voluptuous women amid a swirl of abstractions, both courtesy of Coggan's network of graffiti writers, known collectively as "MSK." The two murals were painted by crew members Mac and Retna, who worked by streetlight as a gathering crowd looked on.

For Coggan, it all comes back to art. "Just the process of building [Cream] is almost a performance art, you know what I mean?" he says, then laughs. "And it's an expensive performance, let me tell you. But it's an enjoyable one."

Recommended: H-Bomb Smoothie: tastes like a liquid muffin; Red Rooibos Tea: full of antioxidants, this stuff kept a bad cold at bay. Eclipse Orange Macadamia Nut Truffle: melts in your mouth, not in your hand.

DIRTBAG CLOTHING

1135 Garnet Ave

San Diego, CA 92109

(858) 273-3332

www.dirtbagclothing.com

Dirtbag started in 1996 from modest beginnings -- "two shirts, a paper bag, and some crappy Kinko's cards," says Alves -- and slowly grew into a business. It began in San Francisco, when Alves bought the original "Dirtbag shirt" from his college buddy and Dirtbag co-founder Doug. It's a simple design, the word "Dirtbag" printed across a yellow oval, but managed to get the two friends a lot of attention. "Everywhere I went, people were, like, 'Dude, Dirtbag, that's cool!'" says Alves. For a while, the idea lay dormant, until Alves and Doug, in a stroke of luck, became roommates. Alves offered up his own savings, and with that seed money, the two jump-started the company.

Through word of mouth, help from pals and family, and maxed-out credit cards, Dirtbag began to grow, enough so that by 2000, both Doug and Alves quit their jobs and dedicated their days to the business. "We started hooking up with a lot of bands, which are all over, you know, Slipknot, Shadows Fall.... We've worked with Dimebag, with Damage Plan.... They just love Dirtbag," says Alves. "It's a slow way to build a business, but in reality, it's probably better off because our foundation's so strong right now. It's a personal friendship with half the bands."

The Dirtbag store, on Garnet Avenue in Pacific Beach, reflects the rock aesthetic. Stage lights hung from the ceiling showcase the clothes. In one corner, on a riser covered in corrugated steel, is a full drum set, behind which sits a bank of TVs three screens wide. Beside that is a full rack of limited-edition guitars made by a company called Boogie Street. Music, as Alves maintains, is central; every available inch of wall is covered with signed band posters. Thrashed cymbals and drumheads are mounted above the wall of TVs like art pieces, unreadable signatures splashed across them.

They've come a long way since the yellow-oval days. Discarding that lackadaisical handwritten logo, the first line of Dirtbag shirts began with an edgier emblem, a blocky red-and-white "Dirtbag" done in a modernized Old English font and flanked by a pair of stars. This went on everything from tank tops to windbreakers to hats to wristbands and helped solidify the idea of Dirtbag as a rock-and-roll enterprise. The next shirt was a flaming skull and crossbones, also black and red. Lately, however, Dirtbag has expanded to include ornate images and multilayered designs. Winged skulls sit against a backdrop of faded lightning bolts, all printed atop a background of white. An animal skull (indexed on the Dirtbag website as the "Demonic Goat") bears the initials "DB" across the bridge of its nose, red swirls curling out from its center. Calligraphic flourishes edge the classic Dirtbag logo, dripping white paint (or blood?) down the torso of a long-sleeved thermal.

There are now Dirtbag handbags, chic "hobo"-style clutch purses that come in vinyl, velvet, and canvas and are priced modestly at $25 apiece. There are also new Dirtbag hats, some modeled after military-style duckbills, others more outlandish, such as their British cabbie-style caps. This new fare features the newer Dirtbag look, with winged fleur-de-lis, embossed skulls, and Gothic print patterns. It's still Dirtbag only...fancier.

"We've had grandparents 70, 80, 90 years old wearin' it," says Alves, who points out that their spokesmodel is a grandmother in her late 90s. She beckons from a nearby poster, where she sits in a lawn chair, decked out in a Dirtbag shirt and sunglasses, raising a martini aloft. "One guy might be a skater, one guy might be a surfer, one guy might be a computer nerd, whatever...." He pauses, shrugs his shoulders; the Dirtbag pose, perhaps. "So it works out."

Recommended: Dirtbag Skull Logo: simple but effective design. Skull. Flames. Crossbones; Men's Black Demonic Goat Tee: a classically rendered contemporary punk/metal design.

FRACTALIZE

4919 Newport Avenue

619-546-4751

Website in the works

Fractalize sells not the traditional glass pipe-and-gag-shirt wares Ocean Beach has become famous for, but items geared to a slightly different crowd. Deep-beat music booms from unseen speakers: Thievery Corporation, Soul Coughing, hip-hop, reggae. Psychedelic poster art is on prominent display. A glass case boasts a collection of gems, uncut emeralds, and local abalone chips. Yes, hoodies and T-shirts line the back wall, but with a spin. Silhouetted birds fly up the arms of a sweatshirt; a mandala-like sun design blooms on a brown thermal. Something is going on.

"We focus on independent West Coast lines," co-owner Ryan Potter explains. "Conscious clothing is the main thing all our items have in common, clothing that is made of environmentally sustainable materials, hemp, bamboo, and organic cotton, and clothing made out of recycled plastic."

Potter gives a quick tour, running through the brands. There's Evolve Universal, which has a dreamy, illustrative style, and Dope Logo, a company that "hides" a 420 symbol (used by stoners as slang for pot) in each of its graphics -- "subliminal living," as Potter says. There's Creation Skateboards, whose merchandise reflects a Rastafarian slant both in its color scheme and lion-centric images, and the Satori Movement, which models its logo after Tibetan calligraphy. Both are brands that use what Potter refers to as "sustainable materials," bamboo, which makes a heavier fabric, like silk, and that old standby, hemp, which is tightly woven, thick under the fingers. Recycled plastic becomes fleece, soft and buttery. Some companies have a nature theme -- birds, butterflies, vinelike designs -- while others have a more hip-hop, graffiti-centric aesthetic, with funky letter-styles. Still others tackle the music world, weaving microphones and headphones into their logo designs and depicting dreadlocked DJs spinning records with caricatured fingers. On the back wall is a special line that screens '70s-style art directly onto the garments, all rendered in eye-popping colors. There's also the house brand, Off the Grid, started by Potter and co-owner Mac Briggs. Their mission is sustainable living, an idea hammered home by one of their first logos, a series of modernized windmills.

Potter makes intricately sewn patchwork corduroy pants and skirts hung on individual racks throughout the store. Before opening Fractalize, she traveled from music festival to music festival, following bands like Widespread Panic, moe., and Phish -- though she is, by her own account, more of a Deadhead. The business is a collaboration between herself and Briggs, who also happens to be her husband. "It had always been a dream of both of ours, and so we made it happen," says Potter. "Being down here, we just kind of jumped on the opportunity. This is such an ideal location, with street traffic and everything, that the moment we saw a for-lease sign, we jumped on it and made it happen. So it's definitely a dream come true."

Recommended: Off the Grid Windmill T-shirt: a strong, simple design on a bright red shirt; Blotter Art: intricately designed posters perforated into tiny squares.

FUTURE OF STYLE

740 Fifth Ave

619-955-8046

www.futureofstyle.com

Future of Style is the anti-mall. Run by husband-and-wife team Dimas and Erika De La Cruz, the store is stocked exclusively with limited-edition, limited-run, indie designer stuff, from shirts to shoes. There are one-off jewelry pieces, belt buckles, and hats. Oh, and those shoes. They sit, high-tops and low-tops both, on a shelf of their own, as wildly colored and patterned as Easter eggs. "Right now, there's a really big resurgence [of shoe collecting] that actually started back in the late '70s but has become a really big phenomenon." Dimas points out a pair of orange-and- purple low-tops dotted with little skulls: "Day of the Dead shoes," he says, a theme both he and his wife have a personal connection to. "The thing about these shoes is that companies like Nike and Adidas are creating limited-edition shoes done in small quantities, and lots of times they've collaborated with certain famous artists, and they release these shoes to special boutiques."

It's not just the shoes that are special. Each T-shirt here is a work of art, some designs ethereal, others emulating old punk posters, with raw splashes of color and rough, ridged lines. Some incorporate hip-hop celebrities into their motifs: Temple Effectives has rapper Notorious B.I.G. (or "Biggie") on one of its shirts, a caricature of his face silhouetted in white against a graffiti-style burst of gray bubbles. Spoonfed, another brand sold at Future of Design, puts a hibiscus-flower-and-hand-grenade "lei" pattern around the shoulders of one shirt, with the words "Charlie don't surf!" in the middle.

None of the merchandise is without flourish, in great contrast to the store itself. Most of the space is pure white, a palate-cleanser that makes it easy to take in all the colors and patterns of the wares. Everything is within reach, and very little is locked up behind glass -- and even these pieces feel accessible, well lit and well displayed within their cases. The store is expanding; once the small shop in the back of a larger downtown establishment, it's moving into the now-vacant front section -- a departure from the company's first incarnation as an Internet business started up in 2003. "We actually kind of went backwards, because most companies start brick-and-mortar and then open up an Internet business," Dimas laughs. "But we were an Internet business that became a brick-and-mortar." The plan is for more clothes, more brands, more music, and of course, more shoes.

The clientele evokes "hipster with disposable income"; anyone else would have trouble affording the rarer clothing items Future of Style sells. "We basically cater to people that are looking for limited-edition graphic-design clothing, T-shirts and jackets that are done in limited quantities and are also kind of unique collectors' items as well," Dimas says. "All our T-shirts have that aesthetic. You can't find them at malls or large department stores, and so it encompasses that whole street movement that's going on right now."

The street movement he speaks of isn't easy to pin down, and that is exactly the point: lines are crossed, messages mixed. Everyone gets in on the action. "Hip-hop was started in the early '80s, so it's already gone beyond a 20-year-old type of culture," Dimas explains. "Now you have your 35, and people pushing close to 40, and Generation X, and even Generation Y kind of all sharing the same enthusiasm for this type of culture."

Future of Style will be changing constantly, and the De La Cruzes are ready for it. Street culture is evolutionary. "It's very universal now," Dimas says. "You can't look at a person and say that they're hip-hop now. 'Cause they can look like a punk-rock person and like hip-hop..." This, in his eyes, is a positive. "There's a really big crossover right now," he says, "and I'm interested to see where it's going to take us."

Recommended: Roulette Belt Buckle: it really spins!; "Brass" Knuckles Necklace: weapon-as-jewelry.

BLONDSTONE

7925 Girard Ave

858-456-1994

www.blondstone.com

Blondstone owner Heidi Holman has a different kind of office accessory: a blowtorch. Ensconced in her brightly lit La Jolla headquarters, she rules her roost quietly from her workstation at the back of the store, head just visible over her desk. Holman has chosen to work in plain view, setting and soldering and stamping and cutting, set back from the action of the shop but still near enough to take part. Behind her, her apprentice, Anne, is busy fitting silver wire around pieces of glass. Both workstations are neat, in keeping with the light, airy theme of the store, and offer customers and visitors a direct look at the process. A certain friendliness arises, the antithesis of artistic pretense.

Holman's signature is a piece known as the "Wave," a cut shell that forms a cresting swirl at its center. The sliced shell used is astonishing in its perfection and intricacy; it's hard to believe it was, before Holman cut it, formed naturally. Holman puts the Wave in rings, necklaces, and bracelets, but it is at its most beautiful on its own, hanging as a pendant from a leather cord or silver chain, delicate but solid. "That one took me months to figure out," she says, "just to bring something new, because seashells in sterling became popular in the import industry, so my things weren't as unique. We've been doing the Wave for about three and a half, four years, and it got very popular. So I'm proud of that."

She also loves to set sea glass, something that flies off the shelves. She'll put it in rings, edging the silver around the glass with little flourishes kept simple enough for the beauty of the glass to shine through, and in rows of threes and fours for bracelets. "There's tons of artists that will bezel and set it," says Holman, "and there's just a high demand." She pauses to laugh. "[If] I don't have it, people kind of harp on me until I make it. The tourists love it, and the locals love it, too."

Holman began making jewelry well before she got her official training in art metals at Stout -- "like the beer," she laughs -- University in Wyoming. She arrived at shells naturally. "The seashells I've been doing for years, because of my love for beachcombing," she says. This is also how she arrived at the name for her work, SOL (Spanish for sun) by Heidi. The letters S-O-L are incorporated into each piece she makes, mostly soldered or stamped onto the back side. Even here, she doesn't skimp, often taking time to cut a hole in the back of a bezel so that the color of the stone shows through. For Valentine's Day, she cuts small hearts.

She works as she talks, forming a bezel, the little silver cup that is shaped to and will hold a shell for a pendant. The motions look second nature to her, as well they should. "I've been making jewelry since I was a little girl," she says, firing up the blowtorch.

Recommended: The Wave: gorgeous.

WAVEHOUSE

3115 Ocean Front Walk

858-228-9300

www.wavehouse.com

Wavehouse is a great place to spend an afternoon. While the food and drink are standard fare -- greasy, American, soda, beer, and mixers -- the gigantic wave pools are not. For experts, there's the Bruticus Maximus billed as a ten-foot monster, a constantly barreling tube of water that packs a major punch. It's situated at the back of the Wavehouse, set up outdoors, like a stage, with hanging banks of stage lighting so that riders can go on long into the night. Music pumps from huge amplifiers, typical Green Day, along with a few pop-country numbers. Bruticus is where the pros hang out; sponsored flowboarders flip and splash across the jetting sheets, flying high over the lip before plummeting back down into the fray. Flowboarding, which is a bit like surfing, is done either on bodyboard-like boards or finless, stand-up ones the size of snowboards. It's harder than it looks; over at the Flowmaster, which is a simple, single jet of water pumped up a small ramp, novices test their skills. It's an odd mix of people; big, burly men dwarf the tiny kids they stand with in line. The kids, largely preteen boys, flip and carve and turn like seals in their wetsuits, laughing and slapping each other on the back. Some are so small they can barely push against the weight of the jetting water.

For the next session, one intrepid young girl joins the pack of boys and men. She steps up for her turn apprehensively but is soon sliding down like a pro, big grin on her face. "Hi!" she yells cheerily at the onlookers as she nears the end of the ride. "Yeah, Alana!" her family cheers back.

After their run, the boys, shivering in their wetsuits, skitter their way to the foot of the thundering Bruticus, sliding into the hot tubs built into its base. They watch the flowboarders, one male, one female, as they show off their tricks, cheering when someone does something spectacular. Moms and siblings bring them Cokes and lemonade, and they sip them from the safety of the hot tub as the water pounds in front of them.

However well the kids manage the Flowmaster, this is no indication of how those over the median age of 17 will fare. The older crowd has a much harder time. They step gingerly onto their boards and struggle for balance, skidding down the slight incline before biting the dust at the end. Some of these men are avid surfers; one onlooker whispers to another, watching as his friend skids out and falls in an impressive spray of water, "That guy surfs Mavericks!"

Out of the waves, it's pretty much the same beach/water park scene. Families gather under cabana-style umbrellas to eat; crowds of skater kids, decked out in fake metallic Mardi Gras beads, clog the tables closest to Bruticus. Some are clearly surfers, watching the wave calmly, calculating. Others are just there for the atmosphere, drinking beer and dogging girls. "Dude, that's my daughter," one woman says good-naturedly, tugging a blonde girl away from a group of college-age kids. To the girl she says, swatting her playfully on the arm, "I can't take you anywhere."

Recommended: The Flowmaster -- tons of fun, less pain than the bigger waves (one guy dislocated his shoulder on Bruticus).

BLUEFOOT

3404 30th Street

619-756-7891

www.bluefootsd.com

According to locals, Bluefoot's previous incarnation was a bit of a hole. Now it gleams, open and inviting, light spilling out onto a small sidewalk patio. The bar is brand new, with steady black barstools and a full stock of draft beverages. A jukebox glows in the corner. In the back, tables are lit by glass-encased candles, highlighting the featured art that hangs on the wall. The DJ booth is back here too and, under it, a parked motorcycle.

In the early hours, Bluefoot is roomy and mellow. Couples and friends shoot pool to Sting's offbeat rhythms. Morrissey floats across the high ceilings like silk. Voices meld. Balls click. The flirting duo at the end of the bar ease their knees closer. College basketball rages on a few of the flat-screen televisions that frame the bar. The feather-haired bartender chews gum and restocks bowls of party mix. The options are plentiful: Shoot pool. Look at art. Drink, inside or out. Watch. Yak. Stock the digital jukebox, which reverberates nicely around the main space. Sneak smooches in the back room when nobody is looking.

As Bluefoot heats up, it becomes clear that this is a melting pot of a hangout. There's a range of ages, from postcollegiate to pre-Vietnam, gay and straight, male and female, black and white. There's a diversity not seen in most bars, and a rare camaraderie. People talk to each other, make introductions, laugh over their drinks. Nobody sits alone. Nobody scowls.

Pool, especially, levels the playing field. A short, gray-haired man teams up with a skinny, boyish young woman, and together they instigate a lively game, pausing for long moments to mingle with the crowd at the bar. The basketball game, it seems, is getting good, and more and more heads turn toward the television, hands twined around drinks, dipping into the bowls of party mix. People ease in through the doors; a fortyish blonde comes in from work, followed by a crowd of pierced, tattooed boys who take up residence at the bar. A couple in club wear play pool, chalking their hands at the talc trough, which has its own little corner by the patio doors.

The gray-haired man is getting impatient; his partner is looking at the television, chatting with a guy in a suit. "C'mon!" he shouts, as the woman turns back. "Shoot pool!"

Recommended: $2.50 Pabst Blue Ribbon.

-- Rosa Jurjevics

SLANG

BOBO: Generic or off-brand goods, most commonly of inferior quality and/or sold at substantial discount. It's increasingly used in reference to goods of illegitimate or illegal origin, including bootleg media or unlicensed "mix" recordings. Example: "Music Trader got rid of their bobo last year after investigators seized 195 CDs from their shop near SDSU." Also sometimes describes highly diluted recreational drugs, i.e., "Crackheads say the rock cocaine in Tijuana is bobo with baking soda."

DOING A HEISMAN: (A woman) making her way through a male-heavy crowd with one arm covering her chest and the other outstretched -- sometimes lifting one foot outward -- in order to fend off amorous advances. Based on the football blocking maneuver depicted by the Heisman Trophy, it's heard (and seen) around crowded PB nightclubs like Moondoggies, where personal space is at a premium, thanks to a narrow dance floor encroached on by surrounding booths and the serving bar. Local DJs frequently spin "Do da Heisman" by Heizman Boiz, while patrons do a trophy-inspired dance seen in uploaded YouTube videos like "White Girls Doing the Heisman" and "Cheerleaders Do da Heisman."

DOINK: To steal goods or services as a prank, or petty theft with no likely legal retribution; most often functions in conjunction with stealing trolley rides. Example: "If you doink a ride on the trolley, have the fare on you to avoid arrest if caught by transit cops." No apparent relation to '90s wrestling character Doink, whose face and hair were styled like a clown and who was usually accompanied by a similarly adorned and coiffed dwarf ("little person" being anachronistic in the context of professional wrestling).

GHOST RIDIN' THE WHIP: A driver walking alongside a moving car so the vehicle (aka the "whip") appears to be driven by an invisible "ghost." San Diego police chief William Lansdowne has warned of this dangerous street trend, which can include passengers hanging or jumping out open car doors and/or dancing on the hood or roof of the driverless car while it's still in motion. Searching the phrase on YouTube with "San Diego" yields several examples of local ghost ridin', including a truck in Chula Vista (viewed over 2400 times) whose two occupants only briefly emerge, and a red Porsche (around 1500 views) whose driver and rider dance circles around the car until it rolls nearly to a stop. At this writing, among the other 400-plus ghost-ridin' clips on YouTube are several showing vehicles getting wrecked.

GONE CRISCO: To gain a great deal of weight in the buttocks. Crisco brand shortening is a lard substitute traditionally packed into metal containers, often referred to as "fat in the can." Usually describes a female but technically gender ambivalent. Example: "She's gone Crisco since getting hooked on Corvette Diner milkshakes." Occasionally used in relation to Crisco Twister, a well-greased variation on the game Twister that substitutes for oil or mud wrestling at venues of lowbrow repute ("The ladies ran out of oil so they've gone Crisco"). These sebaceous struggles are celebrated in Minus the Bear's song "Thanks for the Killer Game of Crisco Twister" ("Our girls are looking so good, and it was getting cold").

GRAVER: A goth who attends raves or is partial to fashion and music associated with rave culture. Can conversely apply to a raver who openly displays affection for goth music and culture. Originally meant to denigrate, genre-straddling aficionados have adopted the term themselves, à la homosexuals claiming "queer" as their own word with an alternatively upbeat connotation. Once-goth-focused events like "Darkwave Garden" -- held Wednesdays at Kadan in Kensington -- draw increasingly more graver clientele, as evidenced by posts at graver.tribe.net.

HOMOBLIVIOUS: Unable to tell when someone is demonstrably homosexual, i.e., a person lacking functional "gaydar." Popularized last year by syndicated radio comedian Tom Griswold of Clear Channel's Bob and Tom Show. Example: "She saw two men kissing at the Brass Rail but was so homoblivious that she assumed one was a hirsute female weightlifter."

HYPHY: A SOCIAL MOVEMENT REPORTEDLY ORIGINATING IN SAN FRANCISCO, DESCRIBED AT WIKIPEDIA.COM AS "A HIP-HOP SUBCULTURE BASED AROUND ECSTASY USE, CLUB DRUGS, AND FEEL-GOOD MUSIC IN GENERAL." HYPHY MUSIC IS CHARACTERIZED BY BOOMING BEATS, AND ITS SIGNATURE DANCE MOVES -- FREQUENTLY FUELED BY MIND-ALTERING CHEMICALS -- TEND TO RESEMBLE SYNCOPATED EPILEPTIC FITS OR JUST-BEHEADED POULTRY.

KLACK: To shoot somebody. Coined by local rapper Mitchy Slick in the song "Klack," recorded with Xzibit and the Strong Arm Steady hip-hop group (Weapons of Mass Destruction, 2004). Slick raps, "Klack for the niggaz that bang in the inner city and klack for the enemies creepin' to come and get me." Getting "klacked" is being shot, and a "klacker" is the person firing the gun. Origin refers to the sound of a gun hammer coming down as a firearm is shot. No relation to the Klack, Oakland's all-white pop country quartet whose name is a play on the Knack, of "My Sharona" fame.

MOOSE KNUCKLE: Male version of the "camel toe," caused by tight pants adhering to the crotch and revealing the contours of one's genitals. As with camel toe, it alludes to animal foot anatomy that resembles a person's junk being squeezed by nearly vacuum-sealed fabric. Aside from frequent references on locally maintained MySpace pages, "Moose Knuckle" is popularly used around Hillcrest to describe a specific style of pants said to enhance the male "package" in the same way the Wonder Bra exaggerates cleavage. We're still seeking a local vendor claiming to offer such trousers (purely for research purposes...).

PROSTITOT: Underage girl whose wardrobe and/or social habits resemble that of a prostitute. The phrase has been used in conjunction with actual teenage prostitution on the locally shot TV show Veronica Mars, but it more commonly describes young girls dressing beyond their years who are probably only partially aware of how provocative their clothing and manner may be. While girls fitting the "prostitot" description abound at local shopping centers and all-age music venues such as Soma and the Epicentre, the phrase is more likely to be uttered -- usually derogatorily -- by an adult witnessing same. A website apparently catering to pedophilic tendencies called prostitot.com has been deleted.

PULLING OUT YOUR POLTZ: Local musicspeak for performing a song or set alternately silly and soul-searing. Refers to frequent Rugburn band member Steve Poltz, whose massive repertoire encompasses everything from goofy answering machine messages to love ballads both romantic and regretful (he co-penned Jewel's "You Were Meant for Me"). The former San Diegan who probably gets caught pulling out his Poltz most often would be coffeehouse gadfly Jason Mraz, especially during low-key, unannounced local performances.

SHIT IS BALLIN': Stuff is expensive and/or top-of-the-line. According to the online Urban Dictionary, someone ballin' is "One who is in a state of being extremely rich and likes to show off how rich he is." Skateboarders use "shit is ballin'" to reference expensive, high-end gear. Usually meant to be complimentary, as on the webpage for local skate supply/fashion firm Streetmachine USA, which uses the phrase to hype equipment also said to be "on point like the Richter scale" (referencing Charles Richter's scale for rating earthquake magnitude). Sometimes used derogatorily to describe the gear of a poseur whose expensive equipment is meant to mask deficient ability.

SLEEVAGE: A form of (usually female) breast cleavage, seen from the side courtesy of low-cut or large sleeve openings that reveal so-called "side boob." Outdoor summer concerts at Humphrey's frequently bring out much attendant sleevage.

STUDYING HIS/HER ANATOMY: Openly gawking at someone's physical attributes, as popularized last year in a ubiquitous Cingular phone commercial featuring Armenian actress Angela Sarafyan (frequently called "the Cingular Umbrella Girl" online). In the ad, with its own cult following à la Mentos mania, she stands in the rain beneath a clear umbrella while breathlessly telling viewers about seeing her girlfriend's ex in the school library "studying the anatomy of a certain friend of ours." Now oft heard at local events characterized as "meat markets," such as Club Tremors at the PB Bar and Grill, where casually diminutive beach wear often allows for nearly literal application of the phrase.

THIZZ: High on the drug ecstasy. "Thizzle" is an ecstasy "brand" name, and "getting thizz" is a phrase closely associated with the hyphy scene. Deceased rapper Mac Dre, aka Andre Hicks -- after his release from prison for his part in robberies committed by the so-called Romper Room Gang -- named his record label Thizz Entertainment. His "thistle dance" has few defined moves other than those associated with "rolling" while high on E, with lots of swaying and lightly touching others around their scalps with fluttery fingertips. Local Giovany Productions recently launched a weekly Wednesday event called Thizz at Club Montage on Hancock Street, with rapper Too Short appearing at the January 10 opening.

YADADAMEAN?: Shorthand for "do you know what I mean?" Originally popularized by rapper Keak Da Sneak (aka Z-Kush), who -- according to him and the MTV2 show My Block -- coined the phrase "hyphy." Locally, "yadadamean?" is used frequently in online marketing of party events promoted by BBH Crew (who post hyphy party videos from San Diego on YouTube), and it crops up on the MySpace pages of several locals professing affinity for hip-hop in general and/or hyphy in particular.

YORK: Noun meaning vomit, i.e., "At 2:00 a.m., many Gaslamp parking lots smell like york." Alternate use as a verb -- "makes me want to york" -- would also be appropriate. Variation: "yorking," as in "Ten bucks to park, but there's a guy yorking on my car."

-- Jay Allen Sanford