Claudia Martha Vairo Parra | Rachel | business owner | resuscitation

Locals like Kulfas are responsible for that resuscitation. Kulfas had just graduated from college when the economy collapsed. Unemployed for more than a year, she decided that the only way to make a living was to go into business for herself. So she scraped together enough money to start Atípica. Untrue to its name, the store is very typical of the new breed of Palermo Viejo businesses in that it pushes local products. Indeed, with a few exceptions, most of the product labels you see in the shops here read "Industria Argentina."

One of the exceptions to this is at Claudia Vairo Boutique, just a few blocks from Plazoleta Cortázar. That's not because the store doesn't carry fashions exclusively from local designers - it does. It's just that you wouldn't know it, because most of the clothes here have no labels. And no sizes, for that matter. It seems that in many Palermo shops, size is a relative concept. Shopkeeper Claudia Martha Vairo Parra tosses merchandise at my aforementioned imbibing companion (a.k.a. my wife, Rachel), encouraging her to try on virtually everything in the store. "Handmade," she says. Most of the items don't fit, but Parra couldn't care less. She doesn't speak a lot of English, and we don't speak a lot of Spanish, so Parra enlists another customer, whom she seems to know, to translate. She grabs a skirt by its seam and makes a scissors motion with her fingers. The customer tells us, "She says if you take to a tailor, he can fix it. So she gives a discount - 10 percent." Some 600 pesos later, we are on our way with a large pile of, yes, handmade clothes.

It is a quintessential Palermo moment: We meet an engaging and savvy business owner and a friendly local, and we pick up some high fashion at everyday low prices. Despite Argentina's growing economy, its currency is still anemic, compared with the U.S. dollar. According to the exchange-rate conversion, the haul from Claudia Vairo costs just $200.