Houston St. (Broadway)

Here's a picture I took on March 17, looking downtown from the busy NW corner of the intersection of Houston St. and Broadway.

The big DKNY mural on the SE corner was painted over recently. The wall space will be used for a billboard for the store Hollister, which just moved into the SE corner store, where a big Pottery Barn store used to be. Here's a picture from today's Gawker, showing what the site looks like now.

Another SoHo landmark bites the dust. Although I disagree with this quote from the Gawker article:

Not as memorable or institutional as the tele-screens of Times Square or the Domino Sugar factory over in Queens, sure, but still a visual presence that now cedes to the neighborhood's near-complete suburban mall makeover.

Yes, the neighborhood has become a mall . . . but I don't think the removal of a DKNY billboard makes SoHo more mall-like!

The thing I'll miss most about the DKNY billboard is that it always reminded me of this amazing cartoon by Roz Chast:

Spring St. (between Thompson St. and Sullivan St.)

A new display at Chelsea Girl Couture (186 Spring St.) caught my eye -- that is one bold outfit, quite Studio 54 fabulous if you could pull it off. The display rightfully gives it solo billing in the window, supported by a phalanx of fantastic Japanese bags. I adore that giant necklace, which I believe is a hefty golden owl. Wear it and get your Athena on!

Prince St. (between Sullivan St. and Thompson St.)

Prince St. gets a little busier between Sullivan St. and Thompson St., and it's dotted with quite a few bag, jewelry, and accessory shops. Most of these are stores that exist only in SoHo.

On the southeast corner of Prince St. and Sullivan St. is the spacious Lords News International (186 Prince St.). As you can see from the printed signs, they do film processing, provide WiFi, take passport photos, send and receive faxes, sell cold soda (and beer!) and candy, and have an ATM. They also do picture framing. Mainly, though, what they sell is magazines . . . hundreds and hundreds of magazines. Their windows on Prince St. are updated regularly, but I find the tall displays overwhelming . . . it's a blitzkrieg of media, and it's hard to focus on any one magazine cover.

Another of Lords News International's windows on the Prince St. side. I only subscribe to the New Yorker on purpose, so the vast array of periodicals here befuddles me. Who reads all these magazines? Mysteriously, I also get Time Out New York (I don't do anything they suggest), Food & Wine (because I watch Top Chef?), and Genre (deeply lame and slight) in the mail, although I ordered none of those. As a sort of joke, my mother gave me a subscription to Reader's Digest for Christmas, so I am able to follow the current frightened obsessions of the elderly and chuckle at Humor in Uniform.

At 178 Prince St. is the Ward-Nasse Gallery, displaying this arresting Jesus painting. I feel a deep fondness for the remaining galleries in SoHo, since most of them have fled the mall for the newer gallery district in Chelsea.

Hans Koch (174 Prince St.) sells handcrafted, one-of-a-kind bags, purses, jewelry, and other accessories, with an emphasis on strikingly colorful and inventive leatherwork. Everything in the store is created by Bauhaus-trained Hans Koch himself and his assistants.

Another angle on the Hans Koch window, showing more of the unique bags and clutches and the jewelry hanging on the side wall.

At 181 Prince St. is Meeka Meeko (clicking that link takes you to an obsessive slideshow video of the store's wares). This is a difficult store to categorize . . . on one hand, it's a jewelry and accessories shop, overflowing with rare, idiosyncratic, and vintage items. But the store also has gifty craft items and odd object that remind me of items you usually see in shops with names such as The Whittling Fig on tourist beach town main streets that have turned quaint in order to survive.

The western window of Meeka Meeko. I kind of like the girly pink sale scrawl on the window.

Closeup of Meeka Meeko's western window. It does give the impression that you may discover a treasure amongst the clutter.

Another closeup of Meeka Meeko's eclectic and eccentric western window.

At 172 Prince St. is by boe, another bag and jewelry store. I give the display some points for the intriguing long-necked busts showing off the accessories in front of that green panel, but those points are quickly taken away because of the crappy printed "sample sale" signs.

SoHo Snapshot

I had to stand in the middle of the intersection of Sullivan St. and Spring St. to snap this photo of the Empire State Building. It was chilly and overcast in the late afternoon, which lent the sky a moody, bruised appearance.

Prince St. (between MacDougal St. and Sullivan St.)

Sorry for disappearing for a couple of weeks . . . I don't know what I was doing, really. Nothing productive, that's for sure. I just crawled into the depths of my cave and stayed inside, floating in the ether of ineffective dreaminess. It happens. Especially this time of year, when the sun moves into Pisces.

But I've resurfaced now. These shots were taken on Prince St., heading from MacDougal St. to Sullivan St. Prepare for multiple spas and salons, but otherwise this is a quiet residential block, with St. Anthony's convent on the southern Sullivan St. corner.

Menswear boutique Sean used to be on Thompson St., between Spring St. and Prince St., but it moved to its new, seemingly-smaller, similarly off-the-beaten-path location at 199 Prince St. last summer. I've always admired the store's natty, stylish suits, and I think these are the kinds of clothes I should be wearing if I ever get wealthy enough to embrace my full adulthood. Although I'm not exactly lusting after that purple scarf.

The eastern window of Sean. I could totally see myself at some literary cocktail party in that blazer or those sweaters, but again, sans that scarf.

At 196 Prince St. is Erbe, an Italian herbal beauty spa. The inconspicuous, discreet entrance suits its elite clientele, which supposedly includes many celebrities such as Kate Moss and Lauren Hutton.

A closeup of the Erbe window, with a Gothic white banister and some cherubim from Cabanel's Birth of Venus.

Across the street is another salon, also underground, the Japanese Salon Hoshi Coupe, at 193 Prince St. Apparently, the haircuts are cheap but phenomenal, and the low-key space is comforting. But I'm stuck on that literal representation of ball-and-chain in the front.

On the corner of Prince St. and Sullivan St., across the street from the convent, is our third beauty shop on the block, Ling, at 191 Prince St. My favorite part of the Ling shop is outside the store . . . that funky tile on the sidewalk.

Nuchtern House (Northeast Corner of MacDougal St. and Prince St.)

One of the most intriguing and beautiful sets of windows in SoHo belongs to the Nuchtern House, located on the corner of MacDougal St. and Prince St. The house has two addresses: 34 MacDougal St. and 205 Prince St., which just shows you how big the thing is. Besides being a lovely and very large single-family house, which is rare enough in SoHo, its four giant street-level windows positively teem with gorgeous vegetation.

I stole the above picture from the blog New York Daily Photo, because I didn't take a full picture of the whole house. On that site, I also learned that the home is owned by Anna and Simon Nuchtern. Simon Nuchtern, originally from Belgium, is a filmmaker, formerly for August Films. He now runs Katina Productions, a film and video production and subtitling services company, out of his SoHo home. The two large grates in the sidewalk on the Prince St. side are also fascinating, as there are huge windowboxes outside the below-ground windows, with giant hostas reaching up toward the sun.

I took this picture, and the following window pictures. This is the single tall window of Nuchtern House on the MacDougal St. side, showing the amazing variety of cacti and hanging plants. The greenery is so dense that you can't see past the wall of vegetation.

The westernmost window on the Prince St. side. I go out of my way to walk past these windows regularly, and I'm always disappointed when the shades are down. When I saw that the windows were open on this pass, I had to stop and take pictures.

The middle window on the Prince St. side. How long does it take to water these plants regularly? (Luckily, most of them appear to be water-retaining cacti and bromeliads.) More than a green thumb, one of the Nuchterns has a green hand.

The easternmost window of the Nuchtern House on the Prince St. side. It's a jungle in there!

MacDougal St.

In the northwest corner of SoHo is the tail end of MacDougal St., which is only one block long south of W. Houston St. on the east side. On this part of MacDougal St.'s west side, it's broken up by a short, one-way block of King St. that barely gets any traffic at all. MacDougal St. ends at Prince St., where the angle of Sixth Avenue doesn't give it room to continue, and the street merges into the narrow Father Fagan Park.

North of W. Houston St., MacDougal St. is a busy bazaar of little stores, coffeehouses, head shops, restaurants, bars, and unique, international take-out joints, mostly catering to the tourist trade and feeding the NYU students' appetites. On the south side of W. Houston St., in SoHo proper, MacDougal St. is quiet and mostly residential, and has St. Anthony's school building on it, so there is only room for a few out-of-the-way restaurants . . . and just two storefronts on the whole block.

At 51 MacDougal St. is the mysterious and eccentric Something Special, which offers mailbox and notary public services, makes keys, and sells offbeat gift items. Apparently, the store has quite a following with the local celebrities like Sarah Jessica Parker, Lucy Lawless, and Patti Smith.

The reflection of St. Anthony's school can be seen in the window. The school is now being used by the Cardinal Cooke Academy for Learning and Development, a school-based special education provider.

Across the street is the Koho School of Sumi-E (64 MacDougal St.), where the instructor Koho Yamamoto conducts classes in brush painting and calligraphy, and displays her own art. This is the storefront school's northern window.

Here's the southern window at the Koho School of Sumi-E, showing a Sumi-E portrait perhaps done by Koho herself.

And that's the entirety of the storefronts on the SoHo side of MacDougal St.

Spring St. (North Side, between Wooster St. and West Broadway)

Here's the final entry of photos taken on the evening of February 17 . . . and about time, as almost a week has passed since then! I have more recent photographs to post! In my earnestness in getting all of SoHo shot, I've been biting off more than I can digest quickly. Patience, my pretty . . . patience.

These are all taken on the north side of Spring St., on the block between Wooster St. and West Broadway.

At 145 Spring St. is Custo Barcelona, which obviously has no time for subtlety. I'm not loving the male mannequin's pajama pants with those sneakers, although the shirts are rather fun. The silky purple women's outfit nearest to the gilded peacock feather placard might work on a certain type of rich bohemian lady, but I suggest she forgo the white turban the outfit might inspire. The next garment to the right is a cute, short number, but in the colors of a technicolor barf. I can get behind the more darkly intense colors of the rightmost dress, but is that a single-celled organism printed on the front? Or merely a pulsating vagina? Each outfit might function at a party for sheer notability, but all together in a display, standing on mirrored gold and silver disks, they're quite an aesthetic assault.

After Custo Barcelona, the muted, sensibly straightforward display of tasteful shoes at Varda (147 Spring St.) comes as a relief. All these handmade Italian shoes have a refined formality, and look completely wearable. I'm coveting the topmost ankle boot.

A distractingly haphazard and brutally amateurish display at the LF store (149 Spring St.). That spray paint graffiti is just ugly, and obscures the clothes, as does the desperate and bewildering ad text. What I can see of the outfits through the window's clutter isn't heinous -- there's a schlumpy, urban nerd-girl coziness that's almost charming. That nasty silver bag is an affront, though, as it looks like a receptacle for toxic biological waste. How this all connects to that antler chandelier, I do not know. But! 60% off!

I've often been intrigued by this window for a store somewhere upstairs at 151 Spring St., which showcases eclectic and often eccentric antiques. Finally reading the text in that small frame, I discovered this is the display for E. Buk Antiques, which sells oddball items and quirky collectibles, and rents historically accurate props for movie, television, and photography studios. Honestly fascinating.

Another storefront with distracting text, Theory, at 151 Spring St., otherwise has a direct approach to showcasing its clothing that I appreciate. (Although I keep thinking of Marge Simpson telling her family, "We can't afford to shop anywhere that has a philosophy.") I love the striped sweater in the middle. I'm not completely convinced by the messy black-and-white checked print on the flanking mannequins, but it's not offensive.

Comptoir des Cotonniers, at 155 Spring St. I dig how their storefront is designed as a classic house window. The pinkish dress is almost cute, but the proportions are strange . . . it seems too short below that waist panel . . . and the cap sleeves throw off the whole look. The sleek gray trenchcoat is fab, though, as are the scrunchy leather boots.

Also sharing 155 Spring St. is Atelier Minyon, showcasing their Ottoman Empire-inspired handcrafted jewelry. I love the repeated crescent moon symbol (which the Ottoman Empire adopted after conquering Constantinople, and later came to represent Islam in general), especially on the towering bronze display tower. The full window display of their glittering jewelry is opulently overwhelming, but all my other photos showing the complete sweep of gems and gold came out blurry.

Here's the eastern side of the window at Wink (155 Spring St.). Even though at first glance, the storefront appears cluttered, the display somehow manages to give each item its due. Someone understands the progression of eye movement! The store also has an inviting thrift-store atmosphere, although I'm honestly not greatly impacted by the apparel itself, even though I appreciate the styling.

The western side of the window at Wink. That's a chic hat, and while the bag may be too much, at least it's black.

At the busy corner of Spring St. and West Broadway is Sunglass Hut (157 Spring St.), for all your overpriced sunglasses needs. The clerk was sitting in this window, talking on her cell phone, when I first started taking pictures. When she spotted me, she bolted into the back of the store. Either she really hates having her picture taken, or she was afraid she'd get busted by her boss for chatting on her phone during work hours.

Spring St. (North Side, between Greene St. and Wooster St.)

More pictures from the evening of February 17 (yes, I took a lot of pictures during that session), heading west on the north side of Spring St. from Greene St. to Wooster St. Next time, I'll try not to take pictures during rush hour, as there was too much pedestrian traffic. Honestly, though, I'm not sure what the best time is to take pictures on Spring St. -- it's always crowded.

Here's the eastern window of Burberry, at 131 Spring St. All together, the outfit is fashionable enough in a uptight, upper-crust casual sort of way, and the long jacket would hide more egregious ass issues, but that high-waisted pleated pant with the belt and the skin-tight top looks specifically designed to highlight a poochy stomach. The knotted ropes holding up the placards are a nice nautical touch that meshes well with the store's preppy aesthetic.

Not a bad effort toward glitzy evening sparkle in Burberry's western window. The long "ties" are a little too busy when mixed with that long necklace, though, and I'm uncertain about the ankle boots. On one hand, I think the boots are kind of cute with the dress ending above the knee . . . but on the other hand, the boots also look like a businessman's black socks in that awkward, vulnerable moment just after he takes off his trousers.

This sepia-soaked, theatrical display of a decrepit tenement room is in Diesel's eastern window at 135 Spring St. I give them major props for the effort of building such an authentically squalid set, but I'm also reminded of the Derelicte fashion show in Zoolander . . . and of the Nine Inch Nails video for Closer. As for the apparel itself, well, there's not much here, really. That's a cool enough brown shoe on the chair, and the scarf hanging on the wall has some style. I'm not positive what item of apparel that scarf is paired with, though . . . could that be a long wifebeater with a hoodie? Or just a rumpled sack dress? This is why mannequins come in handy.

Another of the funky Diesel windows with their tenement set. I remember in my 7th Grade art class, my teacher told me to leave out all the wires and outlets from the baseboards, unless I wanted the room I was drawing to look specifically sordid and busy. So, here: specifically sordid and busy, but rather lovely in an Ashcan-school sort of way. I believe I already owned that shirt in 1986, when I was aiming for a cool New Wave look with touches of Goth. I guess that can come back.

The westernmost Diesel window, alongside the entrance. I do like their purposefully edgy and schlumpy aesthetic, but has anyone else noticed how surprisingly uncomfortable Diesel clothes can be? It's like they're factory-imbued with scratchy starch.

A street vendor's tables displaying skull-emblazoned beanies and scarves with roses. The booth appeared abandoned, with no actual vendor in sight. He was probably off keeping warm somewhere . . . it was frigid outside, and my hands were getting chapped holding the camera.

Ah, Chanel. 139 Spring St., on the Spring St. side. This is taken from the easternmost window, although these mannequins are in the center of the store, as though they were discriminating patrons themselves. Having money is the only excuse to wear that color. What is that color, anyway . . . coral? Clownfish? Clementine? I love the way the poster in the background appears to hover in the middle of the store, like an apparition of Ophelia floating by.

A Chanel purse and sunglasses. I say that flourichon on the purse is too much. Cute little planner, though. Mary J. Blige could rock those sunglasses.

An impressive goddess gown on the front mannequin in the westernmost Chanel window. The back mannequin is wearing the kind of power trousers that Chanel perfected.

Right outside the Chanel shop, this New Yorker and Vogue cover art street vendor has taken shelter in his car. I first saw New Yorker covers for sale at a street vendor's booth up by Central Park, and I was going to buy a few, but then I realized that they were just color printouts in cheap frames, so I made my own at home.

Greene St. (West Side, between Prince St. and Spring St., Part 2)

We now continue on our further adventures down Greene St., heading south from Prince St. to Spring St. on the evening of February 17.

Located at 109 Greene St. is the jewelry shop Tous. Say "hi" to Kylie Minogue in the background! Apparently, Kylie designed some of the items.

A closeup of the jewelry featured in the Tous window display case. Much of it has an elegant, delicate filigree, and I'm enamored of the long necklace with the irregular translucent gemstones in subtle shades.

I feel apologetic about this photo of the Taschen (107 Greene St.) storefront window. The picture doesn't capture the intriguing playfulness of the bookstore's interior, with its artfully warped shelves, warm, inviting lighting, and poppy wall art. The window display is appropriately messily sexy for The Book of Olga, a limited-edition book that was commissioned from photographer Bettina Rheims by a Russian oligarch to showcase his hot wife, Olga Rodionova. On the right, I again apologize for blurring the Pierre et Gilles book Double Je, especially since I just adore their dreamlike yet crystalline fantasy photography.

The northern window at Agnes B. (103 Greene St.) is evidently the "Homme" display, although I can't say that's the most masculine of outfits. It's quite upscale gay, really . . . although pleasantly clean-cut.

A simple belted sleeveless sack in the southern "Femme" window at Agnes B. The color is bland enough to shift attention to the wearer, and the lines of the dress are flattering, but I don't know . . . I keep picturing Wendie Malick wearing it.

A gorgeously comforting window at Natuzzi (101 Greene St.). I covet those lamps, and I want my entire life to be lived in that kind of soothing, honeyed light. I personally would never buy any white furniture because of the required vigilance of cleanliness, but that chair does appear to be very soft.

Did you know that beauty is a treasure hunt? So says Space NK (99 Greene St.)! I get that they're going for a clean, clinical, streamlined look, but I keep thinking alien autopsy.

A closeup of the chilly window at Space NK.

Alas, I must apologize again for my photos of Armani/Casa at 97 Greene St. This is perhaps my favorite storefront in SoHo, and the window's somber, hushed atmosphere is lusciously cozy in person, and not indicative in my picture. I had to use a flash to avoid blurring, ruining the luxurious, plush murk of the display. When I get rich (however that might happen), I'm walking into this store and hiring them to furnish my entire home.

The southern window of Armani/Casa, photographed with no flash, as evidenced by the blurry trails around the lamp. As much as I adore this store, I'm not sure what room this is meant to showcase. It looks mostly like a women's rest room parlor in a swanky hotel.

The Anne Fontaine storefront at 93 Greene St. Those blouses and bags are so terribly French that they're edging over into caricature. That pink belt just looks slutty.

Speaking of slutty, here's the storefront of La Perla at 93 Greene St. Yes, everyone deserves some sexy undergarments, but I'm not sure if displaying it in the setting of the Red Light District in Amsterdam doesn't tip the fantasy from sexy into sleazy. But maybe women are seeking a touch of Euroskank in their frilly unmentionables, and if so, God bless.

BAPE, at 90 Greene St., compels one bow down to this impressive mirrored shrine to the sneaker. The full name of the store is A Bathing Ape, and I'm not sure if that's an easy fit with this shop's overwhelming opulence.

A closeup of the mirrored sneaker carousel at BAPE.

Intriguing guerrilla poster art in a doorway on Greene St., near Spring St. Those are some perky orange nipples in the top poster! (By Celso, I think.) But I'm most taken with the text on the bottom poster: Good guys finish last. Tedi pees the bed. I saw u with Todd. Ha ha ha ha. New York City Girl Beef. Good work, Haculla.