Portland

Owners Angie Heiney and Aly Wykhuis opened Frock on Alberta Street in 2003, with a commitment to local, independent and handmade fashion. Stop in to Frock and you won't be able to resist the vintage charm and cute accessories — not to mention picking up one of our Stumptown-themed tees. We talked with the ladies from Frock about some delicious local eateries, the perks of shopping for a living, and their perfect day in Portland.

When you started your business, did you have a particular kind of customer in mind? What sort of needs were you trying to meet?

Our customers are looking for something different and fresh. We want to facilitate radical self expression via fashion and accessories. Our lines are funky, accessible, often local, independent, handmade, and unique. Whether you are 5, 95 or anywhere in between and whether you spend $1, $10, or $100, everyone's a winner at Frock. It is the most unique boutique experience without the steep boutique prices.

Are there any fun, unusual perks that come with your job?

Shopping for a living is its own reward! Interacting with our customers is also wonderful as they are often very surprised by and happy with our store. To say there are a lot of laughs within our walls is an understatement!

It is very rewarding to be an independent business owner in a successful 9-year partnership. Watching tons of people lose their jobs has made us thankful that no one can fire us! Having a partner to rely on keeps us going and allows us to set our own schedules and travel.

Being able to make a difference in our community is extremely gratifying too. Watching our location, the Alberta Arts District, go from every building boarded up in the early nineties to becoming one of the most thriving neighborhoods in the city has been amazing.

Describe your idea of a perfect day in Portland. What would you buy, do, see, eat and hear?

My perfect day is a summer day in Portland walking up one side of Alberta Street and then down the other. I'd walk my dogs to the Tin Shed were I can get "Fetch," a delicious scramble served atop their famous potato cakes. Dogs are welcome, and served chicken and rice, plus water in bowls. Then I would go in and out of our boutiques and galleries including pedX shoe store, Amy Dott's custom made dresses, Guardino Gallery, HiiH lighting gallery, and Hail Mary mosaics.

I'd have to stop by Random Order for a pick-me-up with the best coffee on the street and the best pie in the entire city (or should I say America?!): Tahitian, vanilla-salted caramel apple pie. It has organic apples tumbled in homemade caramel and laid to service under a vanilla sugar salted crust. Crimony!

There's too many amazing places to eat at on Alberta Street. I could go on and on.

What does Portland offer that other cities don't and why did you decide to start a business here?

There's something in the water here! We have a thriving, supportive artist community and it seems like everyone is looking for something different. People want to support local. People want to know where stuff comes from, who made it, etc. We love the flavor of the Alberta Arts District and knew long ago we wanted to be a part of it. We have a monthly street festival on the last Thursday of very month and it's great exposure for any business.

Back in the 1940s, Portlander Dick Fagan was getting sick of the view from his office window. Fagan was a columnist for the Oregon Journal, and his window looked down on a hole in the Naito Parkway's median, where the city had forgotten to install a street lamp. After watching weeds take over the hole, Fagan took matters into his own hands and planted it with flowers.

He then started reporting on the spot, claiming that he'd found a leprechaun digging in it one morning. Fagan caught him and wished for his own city park, but made a rookie mistake and forgot to specify the park's size. That's how he ended up with a two-foot circle sourrounded by concrete.

Over the years, Fagan used his column to detail the happenings in his two-foot domain. He named it Mill Ends Park, after the leftover scraps of wood at lumber milss. He also designated it the only official leprechaun colony west of Ireland, and detailed the exploits of its resident, Partick O-Toole. Over the years, the park has featured dozens of pint-sized attractions, including a swimming pool for butterflies and a miniature Ferris wheel lowered down by a full-sized crane. Tiny bilboards advertisted within its borders, and it was once the site of an annual snail race.

A few years ago, the park was temporarily moved for construction, then reinstated with full St. Patrick's day fanfare. It's still a lovely place to stop in the middle of a jaywalk — and a nice reminder to make specific wishes.

Long before Disneyland opened its gates, Children's Fairyland was inviting Oakland kids to enter a world of imagination on the shores of Lake Merritt. And its famous Magic Keys became familiar to magic-seekers across the country.

A few years later, Bruce Sedley invented the "Magic Key to Fairyland" for the park. This little plastic key unlocked the Talking Storybook, an audio guide to many of Fairyland's exhibits.

The key was such a hit that Sedley made a second version — Trunkey the Elephant — for city zoos across the country. The Trunkey keys soon unlocked stories and wonders in over 40 cities. They came in a variety of colors, and some even glowed in the dark. Today, people even collect the different editions (the metallic blue key is the most prized).

Fairyland still sticks to its original mission — admission is kids-only, and the park raises funds to keep fees low (and even free) for local children. To maximize profits, most zoos began making magnetic keys that expired after a year. But not Fairyland. In Oakland, you can still use the original key to enter a storybook paradise.

Our series of zoo key t-shirts commemorates all of Trunkey's incarnations, from Cleveland to Seattle — along with the Magic Key that started it all.

From suspected terrorists to public artists — anywhere else, the transformation would be remarkable. In Portland, it’s just another Sunday night.

Once a week, a band of Portland bikers take the light rail up to the top of the hill near the Portland Zoo for the Zoobomb ride. Then they let physics give them a hand — hurtling downhill at breakneck speeds, usually on tricked-out kids’ bikes.

There’s some glory in getting to the bottom fastest, but the event still has a laid back, inclusive Portland vibe. People bring their kids, and a legally blind guy (aka the “Blind Bomber”) often joins on a tandem bike.

Sounds like a nice local tradition, right? Back in 2002 — at the height of the terrorist scare — calling yourself a “bomber” could earn you some special attention from Homeland Security.

After a rider was spotted with a sign reading “Bomb the zoo, not Iraq!” some of the Zoobomb organizers were questioned about their “tactical meetings.” Riders were even tailed by unmarked vehicles for a few months.

Eventually, the authorities found real crime to fight, and the Zoobombers got back to racing freely. For almost a decade, they’ve been meeting weekly at 8:45 — early enough for multiple trips up and down the hills. Organizers have also added more events, like bike jousting and the mysterious monthly “Dead Baby Nowhere.”

Riders try to make it a “leave no trace” activity, free from trails of beer cans and snack wrappers. The only lasting sign of the event is the “Zoobomb pyle” of spare bikes for folks who show up without a ride. In fact, the pyle is now officially recognized as public art — a far cry from Zoobomb's days as a potential menace to society.

What does it mean to be made in Oregon? Even before the White Stag sign first turned on its lights, “Oregon Made” goods had earned a reputation for being practical, rugged, and honest-made.

Everyone knows the gift-shop classics — Tillamook, Pendleton, assorted microbrews. But these days, a bunch of new businesses are making good on the Oregon made tradition.

Here are some of our favorite Oregon-made goods that can be found nationwide.

Leatherman: Oh sure, Swiss Army knives are fine for picnics. But when it’s actually time to face the elements, nothing does the job like a Leatherman. The company’s founders are descendants of pioneers and they take their rugged heritage seriously (think testing new gear on the face of Mt. Hood). Plus, their tools have replaced the corkscrew with a carabiner that also acts as a bottle opener — pure, grizzled genius.

Harvest Roast Pumpkin Seeds: You can find these in just about any vaguely healthy grocery store. These are pumpkin seeds roasted to savory perfection and nicely seasoned (think honey sesame and jalepeno). They’re crunchy, salty, and full of all those vitamins the health nuts are always raving about. Plus, the seeds all come from small local farms.

Bob’s Red Mill: We've all been there — skimming some elaborate recipe, preparing to impress our relatives/guests/gluten-free date with a new specialty. But wait — who the hell makes fava bean flour? And are you supposed to ground that hazelnut meal yourself? Don’t worry — Bob’s got your back. For over 50 years his mill has been grinding meals and mixes. And with all his gluten-free flour specialties (black bean, coconut, amaranth, and more) he makes wheat flour look amateur.

SurveyMonkey: These free surveys have settled many an inter-office dispute. Not sure of where to go for your next work retreat? Need to pick a theme for prom? Take it to a vote, Survey Monkey-style — and save yourself an hour-long meeting.

NAU: These folks specialize in “outdoor urban” apparel — i.e., performance gear that is both tough and classy. Plus, they use sustainable materials and donate 2% of profits to humanitarian partners. Just straight-up cool all around.

As always, this post is pure local love — nobody's paying us to say any of this.

Bigfoot is an American legend, but he looms largest in the Pacific Northwest. Maybe it’s the vast tracts of forest. Or maybe it’s the company. In Portland, a giant hairy creature could bike across town without being hassled. In fact, he’d probably glide through town unnoticed.

Santiago Uceda, the designer behind our Portland Bigfoot t-shirts, explains it this way: "Bigfoot isn’t necessarily a Portland fun fact, but he would probably fit right in and wouldn’t be harassed by the locals, nobody would question why there’s a smelly bigfoot cyclops hipster riding his bicycle in the Willamette river in search of salmon."

The Northwest is home to several Bigfoot hunting groups — though they prefer the term “cryptozoologist” (scientists who study hidden animals). Whether you want to call him Bigfoot or Sasquatch is a matter of personal taste — they mean the same thing (the latter is a Native American term that just means “hairy man”). Just don’t call him a Yeti, since those creatures prefer the snowy climates of the Himalayas.

No matter where he roams, Bigfoot’s probably smarter than we think — he managed avoid the specially-designed trap in the Sisikyou National Forest, despite the rotting game that hunters left out to entice him. The trap has been locked up for years now, but is slowly being fixed up by volunteers.

Seen any Portlanders who fit the description? The Oregon Sasquatch Symposium has a handy report form for your siting, where you can specify whether you detected Bigfoot via sight, sound, thrown objects, sinister feeling, or simply “evidence.”

Like any true Northwestern gentleman, Justin "Scrappers" Morrison is multi-talented — he makes his living as an illustrator, writer, and art director. And, of course, he's the creative force between two of our favorite Portland designs — the Oregon Wave Logger and Portland Antlers designs. We talked to him about log surfing, nicknames, and the importance of sporting a well-groomed beard.

there there: Tell us a little bit about how you got here. Where are you from, and how did you become an artist?

Justin Morrison: I was born on Vancouver Island, B.C., Canada, but I was raised in Burbank, California. I romanticized the Pacific Northwest growing up, and as soon as I could I moved there. That's where I became an artist.

TT: Why do they call you "Scrappers"?

JM: My mom called me Scrappers growing up. The name stuck in some circles.

TT: What’s your idea of a perfect Portland day? What would you do, see, eat, hear?

JM: I wake up about 6 a.m., take a walk in Laurelhurst park with my wife, son Camper, and dog around the pond looking for interesting wildlife the whole time. Then I spend a couple hours on the computer, go grab lunch at Potato Champion and then get to work painting. I paint 'til dinnertime, then rent a movie from Movie Madness, watch it, and then go to sleep. That's a perfect day in my Portland.

TT:  What's next for you? Next project? Next city? Next job?

JM: I'm moving to Maui to art direct their altweekly, Maui Time, and to help nurture their arts scene.

TT: You’re in charge of the cover art for the Portland Mercury – do you have a favorite cover from the past few years?

JM: This one, or any of the ones I did from 2009-2011.

TT:  You designed “Oregon Wave Logger” shirt for there there – and the OWL shows up in a lot of your work. What’s his story?

JM: OWL stands for Oregon Wave Logger. I like to surf in Oregon and so do my friends. I also made a little book for my son called OWL's Surf Club.

TT: What’s your favorite, underappreciated part of Portland?

JM: The Avalon nickel arcade.

TT: Proceeds from your shirts are going to Portland’s Girls Rock camps. How does helping local charities impact your work?

JM: It defines who I am as an artist and responsible human.

TT: As a bearded Portlander, can you explain the link between Oregon and beards? What kind of statement does a well-curated beard make?

JM: It's a bullshit filter that keeps assholes at a distance.

See more of Justin’s work for there there, or visit the Scrapperstown web site.

The owners of Voodoo Doughnuts might not have known a ton about baking when they started their business. But as former bartenders, they did know how to handle tipsy customers.

And that's the real genius of the 24-hr Voodoo business model. The Arnold Palmer donuts, the bargain wedding ceremonies: during the daytime, they're just novelties. After 1 am, they start to sound like a great idea.

Even Voodoo’s famous pharmaceutical flavors were crafted with buzzed customers in mind. For a short time, you could order a vanilla donut with a shot of NyQuil nestled in the hole, or a more soothing version with a Pepto glaze and crushed Tums for sprinkles.

In an interview with The Believer, one of the owners explained that this was no publicity stunt: "With the Pepto doughnut, I honestly thought if you had that shot of tequila you shouldn’t have at 2:00 a.m., and then you got sugar, bread, Pepto, and Tums, you’d either feel better or puke your ass off and then feel better because you got it out of your system. So it was a win-win either way."

And yeah, some people dismiss Voodoo for its long lines of tourists. But since the owners refuse to ship their goods (doing so is apparently “an insult to the donut and a rip off to you"), there’s no other place to get an Old Dirty Bastard at 3 am.