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.

Prince St. (South Side, between Wooster St. and Greene St.)

Heading east on the south side of Prince St., from Wooster St. to Greene St., around 3:30 in the afternoon on February 10. An unseasonably warm, overcast day. The streets were teeming with tourists.

In the storefront of 126 Prince St. is the Carrol Boyes shop, showing her range of handcrafted metal flatware and tableware. There are some odd, unique, little gifty things in here that look pretty interesting, but the window itself suffers from overkill -- with all the glittering objects, it's difficult to focus on any one thing. The hanging paper sculptures aren't helping the clutter issue. Although I do love the chunky people drawings on the ceiling.

There's a terrific handmade handle on the Carrol Boyes store door.

I just love these leftover signs around the city. This rusted old sign is advertising "Commercial Printing, Stationery, Office Supplies, Paper & Twine." Something about this relic really reminds me of an old-school Main Street shop.

The Morrison Hotel Gallery, at 124 Prince St., always has cool photos of rock stars in their window. I dig the anti-pose Kurt Cobain is striking in the big central photo (by Jesse Frohman), and the sleepy, shirtless Miles Davis pic on the left.

The painted jeweled frame in the window of Reinstein/Ross (122 Prince St.) is memorable, and harks toward the store's Egyptian and Etruscan jewelry designs, but the display case is far back away from the window, and lit so that it glows like a sci-fi incubator, making everything in it difficult to see from the street. Also, the security guard (seen as a creepy shadow in the bottom right corner of the photo) glares at everyone who walks by.

At 118 Prince St. is ultra-modern toy and clothing store Kidrobot. Apparently, that giant blue thing in the window is called a Munny, and is made of inflatable vinyl. Although my eye is more quickly drawn to the gleeful Paul McCartney figure by Medicomtoy. The mannequin modeling the fitted hoodie and skinny jeans needs to eat a sandwich, stat, even if she makes for a rather cute nerd girl. I prefer my geeky girlfriends without the horrifying eating disorders.

Yes, I realize I'm anthropomorphizing all these mannequins. But isn't that the point of mannequins?

Kidrobot's eastern window. Is this what the cool kids are wearing these days? I guess the outfits are working that retro-future vibe, but I personally would rather expire than wear a giant, useless safety-pin jammed into the front of my cap.

That's a lot of pink butterflies! Fragments, at 116 Prince St., adds a splash of color to their winter window. I can take or leave the dead trees and fake snow, but I dig the diorama in the middle.

I don't know if Joseph Cornell would love or loathe this "box" in the Fragments window, but I think it works as a great way to make the scale of a full storefront feel more intimate, and sets the jewelry in an unexpected surrealist pastoral narrative.

The Karen Millen flagship store is located at 112-114 Prince St. While I lost some of the photos of the other windows due to reflections and glare (and, um . . . focus), the blend of the snappy green military coat, the mannequin's pose, and the lights all work together to make the image feel quite ecstatic.

Not sure what to say about this display at Karen Millen, except if this alabaster creature greeted me at the door of a fancy dinner party, I'm not sure if I would pretend not to notice that she looks like a refugee from the attenuated aliens of Close Encounters of the Third Kind . . . or if I would run screaming. Nice, simple, flowy black dress, though, even if the pleats give her a rounded mound of tummy.

At 110 Prince St. is Face Stockholm, a Swedish cosmetics and skin care shop. This is the view through the door, as they don't do much with the storefront on the Prince St. side. I like the interior's aesthetic combination of apothecary shop and boudoir.

But my favorite thing about Face Stockholm's shop is that row of busts on top of the cabinet in the back. Freaky and fabulous.

A jewelry street vendor on the corner of Prince St. and Greene St. The guy hunched over was busy twisting wire for new ornaments created on the spot. This booth means business -- they take VISA, MasterCard, or American Express! I do enjoy the serious sparseness of their display.

West Broadway (West Side, between Spring St. and Broome St.)

These pictures were taken on Saturday, February 7th, on a warm, sunny, busy afternoon, on the west side of West Broadway, between Spring St. and Broome St.

For those of you out there who aren't intimately familiar with the intricacies of SoHo, West Broadway is a two-way, north-south street that starts at West Houston St. (it's Laguardia Pl. from Washington Square South down to West Houston St.), and continues south until it hits the hole that used to be the World Trade Center. West Broadway should not be confused with Broadway, which is four blocks east, and which swerves its way down almost the whole length of Manhattan island. Regular Broadway is a wildly popular shopping area in SoHo, but it's often painfully crowded, and the street itself is a major thoroughfare. West Broadway has a tonier caché, with more of a quaint walking-district feel.

I'm feeling more than a little bitchy tonight -- an incipient headache -- so heads up.

This is the northern window of Links of London (402 W. Broadway). That giant fuchsia neon diamond is certainly attention-grabbing, but it rather dwarfs the jewelry on display. I think the neon is oddly unsubtle for such unfussy, understated ornaments.

The central window of Links of London. The necklaces are fine, if chilly, but what's up with that pink dog collar thing? And don't the obsidian, oblong display things look like they're poorly made out of origami paper? Unimpressive.

The southern window of Links of London. Again, that giant neon diamond draws you in, but seems overtly gaudy for the elegant simplicity of the central necklace.

At 400 West Broadway is Robert Lee Morris, with a display in their northern window of inexplicably cheesy paper valentines dangling above exotic beadwork necklaces and bracelets. Dissonant, and reductive. And wow, is that manniquin-statue awkwardly-shaped!

At least the display in the southern window at Robert Lee Morris has some color in the jewelry that connects to the cut-out hearts. But still those hanging strands of valentines suggest a paper-goods store . . . not fine, expensive jewelry.

A street vendor on West Broadway selling photographs. SALE 1/2 PRICE! Cheap!

The northern side of the storefront of 7 for all Mankind, at 394 West Broadway. Cute basics, with irritating frills. I know that mustard color is supposed to be hot right now, but I'm already sick of it.

Look, I'm wearing a fuchsia blouse! With a sickly knitted sweater! Aren't I adorable? And feminine? La de da, la de da. Plus I love to drape vibrant scarves on my bag! The southern window at 7 for all Mankind, too cutesy for its own good.

An upscale LensCrafters at 390 West Broadway, billing itself as a LensCrafters Optique. With the giant head of Patrick Dempsey selling Versace frames.

These are some cool-girl mannequins in the northern window of Miss Sixty (386 West Broadway). Very New York-styled, with a soupçon of Parisienne.

That mannequin at the second of Miss Sixty's four windows has attitude! And bitchin' shoes. She looks like she's waiting to tear her boyfriend to shreds after he took hours price-checking baseball mitts in a sporting-goods store. She's got a knife in that hot little purse. She'll cut you.

These cool-girl mannequins in the third window at Miss Sixty look like they've tipped over into mean-girl mannequins. Whatever you did to piss off the blond, apologize now. And the lady in the red jacket doesn't care if you live or die, although maybe your dying would amuse her, briefly. She's pulling off those yellow shoes, though, damn.

This mannequin in her paisley smock in the southernmost window of Miss Sixty has got somewhere to be, so you best get out of her way. Her shoes and dress play well together, but I'm not feeling that bag or that hat. Does that hat have a visor?

This is the first of three massive posters on the construction façade of what will become té casan at 382 West Broadway. I kind of dig the streetwise aesthetic of this poster, but it also looks like an ad for a horror movie in which the victims are crunchy neo-hippies.

The giant central poster for té casan, over where the doors will eventually be. I guess wanna-be grunge musicians and their groupies were an underserved market. That dude needs to have that hat smacked off his girly head.

The southern poster of té casan has a more successful streetwise vibe. I instantly appreciate a girl who can wear a hat like that, and the guy looks comfortable without appearing like a poseur.

Wow, the northern window at German skiware sellers Bogner (380 West Broadway) just strikes me as depressing. The chick in the dead-muskrat hat looks so despondent, like she's fallen into a pit of existential angst. Cheer up, girl -- you're on a fabulous ski trip! But of course we know who's to blame for her misery. Her boyfriend there, with his cell-phone pocket on his jeans' calf, turned-away face, and dark sunglasses, has got douchebag written all over him.

The southern window of Bogner. Ugh, these two seem so insufferable, and perhaps oddly kinky in some unsanitary way.

At the corner of West Broadway and Broome St. (372 West Broadway) is the massive, multistory temple to Tommy Hilfiger. I'm surprised this store is still here, which means someone must still be wearing these clothes. These are the windows on the northern side, showcasing two preppy a-hole mannequins. Wow, that green sweater even makes the mannequin look paunchy.

Tommy Hilfiger mildly improves on the southern side of their West Broadway windows. The trench is fine and basic, if a little too short, and I have friends who I can see wearing a rich purple sweater like the one on the right (although not with a green shirt, please . . . or white jeans, which should always be reserved for street hustlers). The painted skirt in the middle is surprising fresh and fun.

Spring St. (North Side, between 6th Ave. and West Broadway)

Rather than tackle the whole north side of Spring St. in one blitz, I decided to capture just a few blocks at a time. So here are three blocks of the north side of Spring St., between 6th Avenue and West Broadway.

I overexposed many of today's photos, overcompensating for the darkening effect of the polarizing filter. I'll get it right one of these days! Although probably not anytime soon.

It was a warm, gorgeous day out this afternoon . . . and really crowded. I can't decide whether or not I'm annoyed or pleased when people pause on the sidewalk, waiting for me to take my pictures. On one hand, it hurries me, and as it takes me a few seconds to set up each shot (and wait for the flash, if any), and I wait for a clear spot before shooting, I wasn't going to capture the people in the photo anyway. On the other hand . . . well, it's curmudgeonly to complain about people being considerate, isn't it?

The entrance to the Spring St. Subway station for uptown service on the C and E lines, at the corner of 6th Avenue. I like the tile mosaic on the landing back wall, which the city does a reasonably good job of keeping free of graffiti.

Our neighborhood Tasti D-lite at 203 Spring St., for all our ice cream and candy needs. Yeah, I've spent some time in here filling up little bags with candy from the plastic cases. Their low-fat ice cream tastes like weak chalk, but the regular variety is reasonably decent. That big plastic chocolate and vanilla cone verges on the obscene; chocolate ice cream should never be rendered in plastic.

Despite its terrible name, Hair Box, an old-fashioned barbershop at 203 Spring St., is where I get my hair cut. I like the celebrity pictures in the window, which include headshots of James Gandolfini and other Sopranos. The Styrofoam heads in the window with "hair" formed from clay pebbles are extremely mysterious and creepy.

At 195 Spring St. is Variazioni, which updates their clear-eyed windows frequently. This is a no-nonsense display of Valentine's Day party outfits.

Cigarillos, a friendly neighborhood tobacconist (and head shop) at 191 Spring St. I dig the smoking cricket (or possibly a frog) logo and the bare-breasted cigar-store Indian. It also smells wonderful in there, probably from the wide selection of pipe tobacco. No, I'm not doing very well this week with quitting smoking.

Ah, my good friends at Spring Street Wine Shop, what would I do without you? 187 Spring St., conveniently located on the way home from the Subway.

This display has been up since New Year's Eve. Whatever -- Veuve Clicquot never goes out of style.

I love scotch. Go ahead, put Johnny Walker Blue Label up on a pedestal, it's all right by me.

This isn't a window so much as an industrial archway, leading to a miniature indoor lumberyard right here on one of SoHo's busiest shopping streets. (Metropolitan Lumber and Hardware, 175 Spring St.) I love watching the tourists almost get run over by the little forklift the workers use to shuttle the lumber and bags of cement across the sidewalk.

This is the western window of Flying A (169 Spring St.), which I always think of as the boys' window. Flying A is a little bit like Diesel-lite, but I like that bag and those sneaks. I'm not sure why the mannequin (the one with the head) looks so spaced-out. He'd better watch where he's going!

And this would be the eastern window of Flying A, the "girls' window". Basic women's daily wear, kinda cute, a little chilly-looking for the season. Although that bust in the lower right corner is working her hat!

It seems as though this woman selling Russian-themed t-shirts on the street is enjoying her soup.

A street vendor selling accessories on the northwest corner of Spring St. and West Broadway.