It’s 1,000 degrees and we’re sticky as hell, but there’s clam juice in the beer and cowboy boots for sale and push-up bras spooning in rows of magentas, reds and lemony yellow.

Deodorant by the cartload and cleansers of every fragrance form a panorama as visually intoxicating as the spread of new bicycles and lenticular wall décor. But more than that, more than the multiples of everything stimulating the stimuli is the sweet, sweet smell of discount.

There are deals to be made here at the Broadacres Marketplace. Random arrays of American consumerism are displayed like prized vegetables at a county fair. Household appliances and vintage tennis rackets scattered on the pavement fall into the same vendor camp as ceramic cats and gently used toilets. Lucha libre masks, leggings, guitars, tools and lawn mowers scream, "Buy me!"

“If you can think about it, you can pretty much find it,” says Broadacres general manager Yovana Olanso, referring to the vastness of the bazaar. Famous for its authenticity, endurance (in operation since 1977) and swap meet candor, the outdoor marketplace expanded its food and entertainment offerings in 2007 under new ownership, adding a little more culture to the community attraction that draws vendors from Nevada, Arizona, Texas and California.

Maybe it’s the band playing on the giant stage in front of the dancefloor under the misters, or maybe it’s the micheladas and crepes and quesadillas and fresh coconut in a bag and snow cones and pizza that fuel the festival spirit. Get your keys made, ride a pony, have your hair cut and eat a pupusa. Even with the late-night rowdiness, this is family territory, and most everyone is speaking Spanish.

We return the next morning, the corridors more spacious with shoppers hoping to avoid the already searing temperatures launching the day. Everything America needs, wants (and thinks it wants) is for sale again, all the toys, televisions, brand-new jeans, shoes and dresses and used jeans, shoes and dresses. So much Mexican candy. So many umbrellas, ukuleles, fresh fruit and religious knick-knacks all on a 44-acre stretch. A plastic bird chirps in a plastic cage. Customers wait for their embroidered goods.

Pepe, a guard dog long dead and peculiarly stuffed, overlooks the medical surplus hawked by his owner, Brad, who says he’s been selling at Broadacres for 17 years.

“How you doin’ there, lady?” a vendor asks a woman strolling toward a table of cups, décor and books, to which she says, “It’s another day in paradise, gentlemen.”

Broadacres Marketplace Friday, 4-11 p.m.; Saturday & Sunday, 6 a.m.-5 p.m., $1.50-$2. 2930 Las Vegas Boulevard N., 702-642-3777.