Shop Hop at the Fashion Outlet in Primm

LAS VEGAS SUN

It's a mission that would make lesser shoppers surrender their overstuffed bags: Put an outlet mall's shopability to the test.

With 100 theoretical dollars in each of their hands and 90 minutes to get rid of them, the Sun sent three Accent staffers to the recently-opened Las Vegas Fashion Outlet in Primm to see what assorted items -- and how many good deals -- they could amass.

So grab your comfiest pair of walking shoes and a calculator as you follow this red tag-hunting trio of consumers through Southern Nevada's newest retail experience:

His wallet's desire

Baby, it's haute inside. Primm's Las Vegas Fashion Outlet mall is a wallet-murderer's row of big-name fashion: Tommy Hilfiger, DKNY, Max Azria, Polo, Jhane Barnes. In Lacoste I found a simple shirt, whose yellow and blue fabric must have seen previous duty as crime-scene tape, marked down to $69. Roll that phrase around your tongue: marked down to $69. Talk about an outlet maul.

But the great thing about spending fantasy dollars is that they're fantasy dollars -- you're not bound to any logic of necessity or prudence. It's entirely about desire. So there was no reason at all I couldn't stock my list with the Nautica windbreaker (50 percent off its $119 marked price), or the $54 Nike court sneakers at Just for Feet (even though I'd almost bought the same pair on sale in Henderson for $15 less). No reason I couldn't "buy" the $15 Celine Dion CD at Music 4 Less, then smash it with the $18 skillet (with grill bottom!) I "purchased" at Williams-Sonoma.

But I don't desire any of those things, except perhaps the Celine Dion smashing, and that would be far less enjoyable in this fantasy scenario than in a real one. What I do want is the pair of sea-green baggy shorts for $25 at the Big Dog outlet, and I want them because they are an official licensed product of the 1996 Summer Olympics! Beneath them I desire to wear "South Park" boxers from We're Entertainment ($12), and above them I desire to wear a "Cops" T-shirt from the same store ($14) -- there's some mixed-up pop-cult symbolism.

Book Cents, the cut-rate bookstore, had the usual fare you find in cut-rate bookstores, which is to say remainders, the books no one wanted. Neither did I, until I saw "The Rear View," a history of the human bottom. Having made an ample contribution to that history myself (extra-wide Big Dogs for me, thanks), $5 seemed like a good deal.

In the Desert Colors store, I would have been unable to resist the $7 Denver Broncos hot sauce, even though I know it's just some generic Tabasco knock-off wrapped in a cheap Broncos label; such is the intertwined nature of desire and football fandom.

I found the item I desired most in a small jewelry kiosk, among a group of elaborate carved-wood creatures by artist Teresa Armas. The one I fancied ($45) was rather froggish, with bugged eyes, flared appendages sprouting from its head and the wildest paint job this side of a paisley shirt. Oh, and it breathed flame. It was lovably grotesque and I would have named it Editor, as a constant reminder that you can't always get what you want.

OK, so it comes to $108, plus tax, a little over the mark. It's only fantasy money.

-- Scott Dickensheets

You're toast

"Where the heck is Williams-Sonoma?" I wondered aloud upon venturing into fresh paint-scented Las Vegas Fashion Outlet Mall.

Never mind the buzz about chi-chi clothing and designer shoe stores that has surrounded the place since its opening last week.

What else but the lure of potentially lower prices at my favorite culinary gadget store would make me run all the way to the California-Nevada border? I mean, besides the chance to see Bonnie and Clyde's "Death Car" at Whiskey Pete's?

Finally, I could purchase a few dozen of those not-so-necessary but ever-so- cool cooking gizmos -- apple corer/peelers/slicers; cast iron muffin pans shaped like ears of corn; melon ballers in a multitude of sizes -- that I've been eyeing for so long in the Williams-Sonoma catalog, minus the "I-really-don't-need-this"-guilt, thanks to a pocketful of imaginary cash.

I didn't, however, count on nostalgia slapping me in the face.

But there it was, gleaming under the store's florescent lights in all of its 1950s retro, shiny, chrome glory: A refurbished Dualit two-slice toaster. Suggested retail price: $249. Outlet price: $99.99.

That's right, I shot the entire wad in a matter of minutes. So I'm an impulse shopper. Cut up my credit cards, why don't ya?

Broke, depressed and theoretically dragging a rattling old toaster behind me, it was time to peruse the rest of the mall in search of what bargains I had missed.

First stop: Music 4 Less, where I could have added to my growing library of Hall and Oates CDs. The band's early '80s offering "Private Eyes" had a red ticket price of $6.99. I hemmed; I hawed. But ultimately, I passed.

My childhood dreams were nearly realized at A Toy and Game Experience, where, smiling back at me from inside a glass case, was a Howdy Doody ventriloquist's doll -- freckles, bandana and all. (Don't ask!) And at the bargain basement price of $39.99.

In the same store, I could have been thoughtful of my "Titanic"-obsessed husband and picked him up a $19.99 board game inspired by the ship's fateful journey. But hey, whose hundred bucks was it to spend, anyway?

It was the slew of ceramic Pillsbury Doughboy kitchen accessories at We're Entertainment, a veritable pop culture supermarket, that nearly brought me to tears.

Dashed were my hopes of adding place mats ($3.99), napkin holders ($7.99), spoon rests ($5.99), salt and pepper shakers ($6.99) and soap dispensers ($8.99) to the small-but-adorable Doughboy doodad collection -- a wire whisk, cookie jar, magnets and steel wool pad container -- already taking up space in my kitchen. Life just isn't fair.

So, how dark do you like your toast?

-- Lisa Ferguson

Steal away, shoppers

Forget the bargains -- there might be illicit items for sale at the Fashion Outlet mall.

Stopping by the "Old Havana" kiosk, one naturally suspects there might be "cohibas" to be had. This is, after all, the "Miami Beach" section of the mall, where the band, Caribe, plays "The Girl From Impanema" in the background.

"We have cigars from the Dominican Republic," says the clerk, flourishing one of three remaining $13 La Tradicions he promises are ranked higher.

"What if someone really, really wanted a Cuban?" I press him relentlessly. "Could you get it for them?

He leaned in close, whispering sweet Spanish somethings in my ear. ...

Aside from searching for contraband, I found the shopping at the mall was generally a steal.

Keeping in mind my fantasy $100 budget, I flirted with a "brown, faux crocodile belt" ($60, marked down from $75), and a set of four white linen lobster bibs ($11 each) at J. Peterman, a blue polyester jacket from Benetton that looked like a Cookie Monster costume ($109, marked down from $179), and some very Vegas chic "blue dust" Enzo sandals ($54, marked down from $74) from Nine West.

Instead, I figured I would put the mall to the ultimate test -- bathing-suit shopping. Stopping in at J. Crew, I was drawn to the rack of one-piece swimsuits, originally $38 and a genuine deal -- marked down to $19.99, with an additional 40 percent off, for a final price of $11.99.

There was just one problem: the choices were black, white, and red, making for an awkward dilemma. I longed to go with the safe, dark, concealing one, but it felt a bit too tight. I wanted to go with the pure, white, comfortable one, but it seemed a bit too see-through.

So, against my better judgment, I end up going with the criminally flamboyant red one, hoping that no one at the check-out counter mistakes me for some "Baywatch" babe wannabe.

Moving on to the Williams-Sonoma factory store, I try to negate my scandalous last purchase by indulging my domestic side. Or maybe I was just tired of making do without a ladle. Or more likely, it's because my friend registered for her wedding here last month, getting her guests to stock her kitchen with $8 utensils.

So when I spot the exact same utensils for only $1.50 -- ha, ha, revenge! -- who could blame me for suffering a fit of rebelliousness? Why wait for nuptial bliss to have proper serving accoutrements? They had to be mine.

Before I know it, I am a domestic scofflaw, staggering out of the mall with not only a ladle, but a pasta server and a slotted spoon as well.

Illicit items, I tell you -- for a steal.

-- Melissa Schorr

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