Check. Burger King, Accessorize, Marks and Spencers, Ted Baker? Check. There are still some home-grown retailers but the overall impression is one of relentless homogeneity. It's a little depressing and it's happened in in Ireland and the UK but not in other continental cities.

Many of the same brands can be found in Paris or Madrid but they've still managed to maintain their quirkier, interesting speciality shops, the ones that make a shopping trip so much more interesting. Hugh Wallace of Douglas Wallace Architects says that the issue of high rents on our main streets have driven out the independent retailers but that in the future, towns and cities who manage to retain their local shops and identities will be the ones who are successful.

"Because we all get bored actually. People want to be challenged and they want chaos. At the end of the day, we all want a good rummage, " he says.

While places like Galway, Limerick and New Ross have managed to retain some individuality in terms of their shops, the independents who have survived in Dublin have done so he says, because they're so highly specialised. He also points out you'll find they're usually owned by people who are characters, which adds to the whole shopping experience of going shopping.

Specialist shops, he believes will make a comeback because consumers are tiring of the uniformity of what's currently available. "People who are going shopping now want to allocate time for it because it's a leisure activity." We visit five of the capital's favourite institutions.

RORY'S TACKLE SHOP, 17A TEMPLE BAR, DUBLIN 2

COULD there be a more incongruous location for a fishing tackle shop than in the centre of Temple Bar, teeming as it is with stag and hen parties, revellers, tourists and pubs? Or then again, maybe not considering it's a stone's throw from the Liffey. Of course, back when Rory Harkin first opened, 47 years ago, it was a completely different place.

"There was nothing here at all in those days, " he says, harking back to a time when Temple Bar was a run down, derelict shell in the inner city. Fishing season came to an end at the end of September but Rory's still attracts a lively trade. There's still sea fishing and pike too. Male customers dominate but increasingly, females are getting involved too. "The women are taking it up now, they realise what they're missing, " Rory laughs. "And the children, they love it.

They all go catching mackerel on the pier in Dun Laoghaire and out in Howth, there's great craic there." Any thing fishing related that you care to name, Rory's stocks it. "We sell flies, rods, reels, basically everything across the board.

We'll order things in for you but there's very little we haven't got. Someone might want a brand we don't stock and then we'll get that in from them." Angling is a hugely popular pastime in Ireland he says, and the only worry now is the pollution around the country. He himself fishes all over, mainly in Lough Conn, Mask and Corrib. Then for salmon it's the Slaney in the spring time and then over to the West. Say you want to take up fishing for the first time, what would he suggest?

"Fly fishing is the nicest start to the whole lot, out in the evening there where you're watching the bits flying up and down the river and you're seeing what going on, when you're going out with different flies. It wouldn't be the easiest but it's the most interesting. A fellow just going out and throwing a worm in the air . . . that's the easiest thing you can do." Just like with cars, when you opt for your fancy alloys and wheels, you can go for the all singing-all dancing version or then again you could also kit yourself out for under 20. And don't forget to pick up Rory's booklet of 2007 Dublin timetables.

It's only 2.50. Or the t-shirt which says 'If you want to be happy for a day, get drunk. If you want to be happy for a year get married. If you want to be happy for life, go fishing.'

KAVANAGH'S SWEET SHOP, 10 AUNGIER STREET, DUBLIN

FOR a considerable time fat was the enemy. How religiously we trimmed the fat from our chops and poured skimmed milk on our cornflakes! But slowly but surely, the real butter has crept back into our fridges as fat has been usurped by a new nutritional baddie . . . sugar. Everything from childhood obesity to heart disease has been laid at its door, which is why, if you want to feel really rebellious and even a little bit dirty there's nothing (apart from white sliced pan smothered in lemon curd, maybe) like the thrill of old school confectionary.

Gentrified 70%-coco solids, Fairtrade, organic chocolate will not do here. It's got to be the cavity-inducing, slightly sticky sort with enough sugar in it to have you bouncing off the walls. There are few places in Dublin that sell these kind of sweets anymore which is why Kavanagh's on Aungier St is such a Mecca for bonbon junkies. Eddie Kavanagh's grandfather, Joseph, set up shop here in 1925. He had another two shops on South Great George's St and one on Moore St but they became unviable after the Second World War when the depression set in. Joseph's son, Gerald took over the shop in 1978 and ran it until 2003 when Eddie then took over. He gave it a slight revamp . . . they stock Pick n' Mix and Mars bars and Yorkies and all the usual suspects . . . but the main draw are those jars of glistening, retro sweets. Apple drops, cough tablets, chocolate satins, lemon and strawberry sherbet, lemon toffee and strawberry bonbons, acid drops, clove drops, iced caramels, chocolate emeralds, cola cubes . . . the blood sugar rises just reciting their names. Back in the day, Sean Lemass often popped in and today Ryan Tubridy and Brian Dobson are regulars. Expats return here, looking for reassurances that no matter how much Dublin has changed, Kavanagh's hasn't changed. The sweets are still sold by the quarter (although by law, the kilograms must be also given) and in brown paper bags. Demand for them is strong although it's not the low-carb brigade who pose the greatest threat.

"People's time is so very important to them; they're not really interested in hanging around waiting for sweets to be weighed out. They pick up the tubes of sweets just to get in and out for the convenience, " Eddie says.

THE DOLLS' HOSPITAL AND TEDDY BEAR CLINIC, 62 SOUTH GREAT GEORGES STREET, DUBLIN

MELISSA NOLAN sells dolls and teddies and dolls' houses and miniatures and specialises in the repair and restoration of well worn, much-loved toys but what's she's really trading in is sentimentality. Over the 21 years she's been running the Dolls Hospital and Teddy Bear clinic, she's encountered many stories, from the tragic to the joyous.

The whole spectrum is there.

She recounts one such tale.

"There was a child who had a heart condition and the family lived in the Channel Islands. She had a rabbit that always went into theatre with her . . . she thought . . . for her operations.

While she was in for a serious operation her dad flew over, had the rabbit and its pyjamas repaired and ready for when she came through, to find that her rabbit had been fixed as well."

Generally, it's the best loved toys that are in greater state of disrepair. "By the time they've fallen to bits, that's when they love them and they come to life and become real people. Until that happens, they've no personality."

You won't find Barbies here, or anything that's battery operated, just traditional dolls with pretty faces and nice hair.

Certain lucky little girls come to have their own dolls created for 135, where they'll pick a face, hair, eye colour, name and get a birth certificate.

It's popular around First Communion time, when children pocket substantial amounts of money, serving as a nice keepsake. Collecting dolls is a popular adult hobby but according to Melissa, and contrary to popular belief, little girls are just as enamoured of dolls as they always were. The staff is always sympathetic and they'll deal with every request to the best of their abilities.

"Recently I had just a duck's head . . . that's all that was left of the soft toy . . . but the child was so attached to it, we researched the catalogues back and found what kind of body the duck had and remade it, " Melissa says.

But not everything can be fixed.

Dolls of a certain age . . . 50-plus . . . made with a particular plastic can start to disintegrate because of a certain chemical reaction. She keeps a special report on it.

"It's not a particularly nice topic; it's listed as a doll's disease. But when we can't do anything, I've found it handy to give to customers. It's not that they don't believe you but they find it hard to understand that the doll has a disease and you can't fix it."

DANCE WORLD, 163 PARNELL STREET, DUBLIN

'We're going to Dance World, we're going to Dance World!" shriek two seven-year-olds pirouetting their way into the Parnell St establishment, where, if the advertising is to be believed, 'the first step to stardom begins.'

Their giddiness is infectious and it increases a thousand-fold once inside. If this shop were a colour, it would be pink. It's a bastion of all things girlie, from tutus to ballet pumps, sparkly hair accessories and majorette batons.

Once you manage to gaze past the frilliness, attention turns to the more contemporary end of the dance spectrum with leg warmers, off the shoulder tees, wrist cuffs and outfits that might be worn by Jennifer Beales in Flashdance or some eighteen years later by Geri Halliwell in her video for 'It's Raining Men'.

And it's only then, once the music 'What a Feeling' and images of you dancing in a saw mill fade from your mind that you actually start to pay attention to the nuts and bolts, the grind, sweat of tears of what dancing can really mean . . . the rock resin to stop you slipping on the floor; the toe tape to stop friction and the performance tights that promise to keep your legs fresh for hours.

Mammies and their young dancers survey the collection of ballet, jazz, Irish dancing, tap and jazz shoes. For every budding Darcey Bussell, there's probably another young one who would rather write ten Irish essays than suffer the indignity of attempting and failing the entrechat in front of their class again. Stuck for what to wear to your next hiphop/swing/contemporary? You'll find it here. It's also a bit of a treasure trove from the nondancing punter looking for interesting accessories like Amy Winehouse pumps, Gwen Stefani vests, Audrey Hepburn headbands and kitsch vanity cases. But the eye is continually drawn back to over-the-top glory of the ballet stuff. Do the majority of little girls still dream of being ballerinas? For anyone who grew reading the Noel Streatfield books (particularly Ballet Shoes which the BBC are showing an adaptation of this Christmas . . . not to be missed), it was a tough but noble and glamorous life. But girls these days, who according to a recent report cite Abi Titmuss and Jordan as their role models, would prefer to be celebrity personal assistants and think that lapdancing is an okay career choice. If they seek adulation and fame, they won't come by it putting in long hours at the barre but by prostrating themselves in front of Simon Cowen. At Dance World however, a pleasing innocence remains and the dream still holds. And hands up who hasn't imagined themselves in a tutu at some point?

MISS FANTASIA, 25 SOUTH WILLIAM STREET, DUBLIN

A MIDDLE-aged man in a tweed jacket walks in and says in plummy tones, "A gift. I'm looking for, eh a thong.

It's not for me, ha ha! A size 12, I think. Is that a thong? I'm not really sure what I'm looking for."

He's the cliched sex store customer but considering that Miss Fantasia trades in sex cliches . . . from handcuffs and fishnets to rubber masks and beyond, you'd be disappointed to encounter anything else.

Elsewhere a couple, who look like students, are perusing the whip section and a lady with a cacophony of dyed red hair seems to be scooping up everything PVC in sight. It's not a bad trade for an early Tuesday morning, the staff are helpful and the atmosphere is relaxed.

They ease you into things at Miss Fantasia, starting out with the jokey hen party gear, Eyes Wide Shutmasks and knickers, leading on through to the plastic, leather and rubber section and then onto the more hardcore stuff, descriptions of which are probably not appropriate for Sunday morning reading. Some of the items . . . the PVC leggings, leather catsuits and vertiginous boots look like they're straight off the catwalk but while fashion is fickle, the sex trade isn't.

"Designers are feeding off it [the sex trade], " Miss Fantasia owner Justin Parr says. "They've seen it, it looks cool, it looks great and they're bringing it into the mainstream. But in this trade, thigh boots never go out of fashion, or stockings or suspenders." Ten years ago, when he first set up shop here, it was still the rag trade area, but times have changed. The shop is on what is currently one of the city's most buzzing streets, flanked by cool bars, skate shops and beauty salons. Parr says about 50% of his customer base are couples, 20% single, 10% gay, and the rest a mixed bag. He couldn't name his bestseller but there are certainly fads like the Orgasma Gel and PVC-minis.

Halloween is big with partygoers spending up to 150 on sexy Snow White dresses and the perennial favourite, a French maid uniform. Last year's hit was a bee costume; this year it's a multi-coloured rollergirl-esque outfit. But apparently, police outfits are still really popular . . .well, hello Garda.

KNOBS AND KNOCKERS, 19 NASSAU STREET, DUBLIN

EVEN speciality shops are not immune to fads and fashions. The wonderfully named Knobs and Knocker's, a fixture on Nassau Street for 25 years, is the only company in Dublin whose stock in trade is purely door handles. It might seem like an obvious statement but without this iron mongery, your house can't function. But expectations of how perfect we want our houses to be are higher than ever as we rifle through interior magazines for the latest look.

"People have gotten far more fussy now and they want everything to match.

Certainly 15 years ago, we never would have been considered a force for good quality switch plates and sockets but now we are and we sell a lot of them. The market has changed as our standards have gone up, " says Des Cooney, the shop's manager.

Brass has been very fashionable for the last 20 years but it's been on the wane for the last three years because of new builds. Now Knobs and Knockers sell a lot more satin nickels and polished chromes.

Even with period builds, customers are putting on traditional door knobs but giving them a modern finish. Des says their typical customer is one who has a hands-on approach to their build and take an active interest from beginning to the end. There are prices to suit all pockets. Lever handles are always cheaper than a door knob. Using these and tubular latches you can fit out a door for 30. But at the top end of the market you could put in crystal glass knobs and escutcheons and a deep lock for 250.

Many customers come via referral from other shops. Can't find what you're looking for in Chadwicks of Navan?

They'll probably send you along to here.

"We've been around a long time, I suppose because we have a reputation for quality and doing things right and we try and do what you can't buy in the local hardware shop, " Des says. "Quirky and unusual stuff have always been part and parcel of our business."

SINN FEIN BOOKSTORE, 58 PARNELL SQUARE, DUBLIN

SATURDAY, 2pm: We're the only two people in the Sinn Fein Shop, which is a welcome relief in comparison to the rest of the city's thronged thoroughfares but it's still not the most inviting of shops, housed as it is in a slightly dank Georgian buildings. Sinn Fein is the only political party to have its own shop.

Prominently featured are biographies of Gerry Adams, books about Sinn Fein itself, books about Bobby Sands, historical books on people like Tom Barry, beginner's guide to Irish and then some books you should have anticipated but didn't . . . like ones on Che Guevara or Paddy Woodworth's The Basque Country:

A Cultural Tradition. CDs include Christy Moore, Luke Kelly's Hard Working Class Hero and H-Block CD: The legend of the 1981 Hunger Strikes which doesn't sound like a party starter but is topping their bestseller list. Perhaps the most surprising aspect to the shop is the gift collection with items that you'd find in Dublin Airport shops specialising in Celtic twilights . . . silver Celtic crosses, Sean O'Riada's 'Mise Eire' and 1916 Proclamation prints.

So far it's all quite predicable but the tshirt section will hold your attention more so than the books, CDs or posters, with a range of slogans that veer from humorous to the belligerent and the outright militant. Alongside the Sinn Fein ones and the ever present image of Bobby Sands are ones proclaiming 'I Still Hate Thatcher', 'Keep Eire Tidy . . . Brit Troops Out' and 'Tiocfaidh Ar La'. The latter is the shops best seller, according to the manager Brian Dowling. He says that while the shop does get the occasional foreign visitor the majority are Irish.

Political symbols become assimilated into the mainstream after a period . . . the hammer and the sickle, the Warhol images of Mao, the iconic image of Che Guevara but one imagines that it will be quite some time before some of the sentiments on display here will be easily accepted.

A Dublin barman told me recently how he refused to serve a customer wearing a 'Tiocfaidh Ar La' t-shirt, not for any personal reasons, but because he was afraid of any potential trouble from other customers who saw it as inflammatory. I buy a 'Tiocfaidh Ar La' badge for 4 because it's black and shaped like a gun and you can't really read it unless you squint. The man behind the counter helpfully points out that I'd picked the male version and maybe I'd prefer the Cumann Na mBan one instead. I stick with the one I have, it might look good with my black leather jacket.