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.

Greene St. (West Side, between Prince St. and Spring St., Part 1)

More pictures from the evening of February 17, walking down the south side of Greene St., between Prince St. and Spring St.

At 117 Greene St. is Tarina Tarantino, displaying adorably girly costume jewelry. I'm far from immune to the quirky, colorful femininity showcased in this storefront. It's just so dress-up princessy. Where's my purple crystal tiara?

The small side display case of Tarina Tarantino. I took a tall shot here to show off that awesome bordello-wallpaper vertical sign, and the cartoon-sexy bottom panel.

Here's a closeup of small side display case of Tarina Tarantino. Those yellow beads just glow, and I love the gaudy, historical-chic cameo pieces. My mother had a much more demure cameo of Mary, Queen of Scots that she often wore pinned to her silk business blouses, so I'm a sucker for oval cameos, even when the silhouette is set on a tangerine background.

Next door to the south is Anya Hindmarch's designer bag store at 115 Greene St. The big, obviously roomy bag has gorgeous natural leather, and that white clutch has an elegant modernist simplicity.

Here's the south side of the Anya Hindmarch window, with a large, practical day bag that whispers tasteful, moneyed granny. The petite, chic evening clutch is cute, but perhaps a little too hand-painted crafts-fair in appearance to satisfy its aspiration to be an expensive luxury item.

The wacky window of Anna Sui at 113 Greene St. supplies a blast of eccentric energy. The dresses featured are quite cute, although the purple and red retro one strikes me as being more of a costume than an appropriate party dress . . . although maybe that opinion is colored by the mannequin's eye patch. I am a fan of that big gold messenger bag with tassels, though.

At 111 Greene St. is the Adriano Goldschmied store, better known as simply AG Jeans. The shop has been growing in reputation as the hot spot for vintage-inspired denim. While they're visually arresting, I'm not sure those hanging wire-forms make the jeans look all that flattering. They appear wet and wrinkled (or perhaps shellacked), and is there anything more uncomfortable than wearing wet jeans?

Greene St. (West Side, between West Broadway and Prince St.)

I had to be out of my apartment all afternoon on February 17 while it was being cleaned, so I went to see the movie Doubt (quite fabulous and affecting), and then headed back downtown to take pictures. My goal was to attempt to photograph windows just past dusk, when the storefronts would be fully illuminated, but before the stores started closing their protective metal grates. I figured maybe I could eliminate most of the reflections in the window glass if I relied on the displays' lights after the sun had set. Results were mixed, as my photography skills are still disappointingly lacking, but I did manage to add to my repertoire of effects.

These were all taken on the west side of Greene St., heading downtown from West Broadway to Prince St.

At 137 Greene St. is Babette, with some hot librarian outfits in their northern window. I like how the clothes represent so many dichotomies: sexy/dowdy; revealing/demure; modern/historical; American/European; casual/classy; schoolgirl/biddy.

Babette's southern window. Great colors on the right mannequin: a lovely yellow blouse with a nice black placket over a cute, grass-colored shirt, all atop a warm, crinkled-linen long skirt. Both schoolmarmish and approachable. I like the touch of surprise in the right mannequin's pose, too -- she's may lose her shoe! But the silhouette of the outfit on the left seems too fussy, and looks as though both the pants and top have been put on backward.

The Pomegranate Gallery is located at 133 Greene St., and is dedicated to introducing Americans to Middle Eastern art. Is that grid illustrating "Iraqi Art Today" supposed to reference the PC game Minesweeper?

It's an avalanche sale at Cite (131 Greene St.)! Has anyone heard that term before, avalanche sale? I get what they're going for, a really big, out-of-control sale, but I'm not sure I'm down with this expansion of the word avalanche. It's not a reference to a specific designer's furniture -- I checked. Anyway, I usually like Cite's chunky square furniture, but that chair looks awkward and uncomfortable, and I really dislike the burgundy color. And ugh, what is that furry pillow? It looks like diseased coral. Yuck.

Zebras! Baby zebras! I have trouble looking away from the stuffed animals in the window of Kisan (125 Greene St.) in order to pay attention to those smocky black-and-white outfits. The red bag is cool, anyway . . . although the whole display starts to remind of the old joke, What's black and white and red all over? An embarrassed zebra!

Nice, simple, sophisticated shoes in pleasant colors in the Glory Chen shop at 121 Greene St.

The economy's got to be hitting the chunky-marble-sideboard and big-hunk-of-driftwood market pretty hard, right? These objects in the Andrianna Shamaris (121 Greene St.) window remind me of the art and decor in the country house in Beetlejuice, after Catherine O'Hara takes over with her "city" taste.

The huge Replay store at 109 Prince St. has seven windows on its Greene St. side alone! The clothes are aimed at such a classic casual American aesthetic that I had no idea that Replay was actually an Italian company. Starting from the northernmost window, we get basic kids' clothes with some nice pocket details on the pants. I really like the gentle flare of the longer trouser. Plus I adore that wooden hedgehog cutout lurking in the bottom left corner!

That's an adorable white-and-blue spring dress on the creepy wire-headed child mannequin in this Replay window. The other outfits don't differ much from what you might find at Old Navy. The wooden bunny silhouettes on the bottom are cute enough, but the naked pressboard of the big flower is a bit distracting.

Okay, the kids' clothes are passably cute in this Replay window, but those wire-headed mannequins are now reminding me of Giacometti sculptures, which in turn have always struck me as frighteningly post-nuclear. That bear in the bag with the schmatta on its head just looks miserable.

More Replay. I'm glad lighter jeans are coming back in . . . I was so sick of the dark, dirty-looking ones in the heavy, distressed denim.

Despite the cute nipped waist on the cropped jacket, that bland beige-on-white outfit in this Replay window washes even that mannequin out. She's quite the messy painter, no? Why is she painting in slime-green anyway?

I love that sweater in this Replay window. The leather gym bag with the strap is quite chic, too. But why are the mannequin's hands a different color than his head? If those are supposed to be leather gloves worn only with a sweater, I don't think I can support that.

Basic collegiate clothing in the southernmost Replay window on Greene St. On the mannequin on the left, that bag is too purse-like to really accent that outfit's nerdy masculinity. For the mannequin on the right, let me just say that I refuse to wear any item of clothing with a label as obvious as that. If I'm going to be a walking billboard for a brand, they'd better cut me a big check.