2:34 p.m.

For once I am satisfied and not sick of the items in my closet.

If only I could feel the same about my font library.

Google has released a brilliant set of ads called Search Stories. They're quick, clever and we all have them! I love this one:

4:07 p.m.

Adore this shot from The Sartorialist.

1:10 p.m.

Finally! I love good news e-mails.

Thank you Paper Source. And yes, I'd like these holiday-themed plates as well.

Morning

Everything, she thought, as she marched steadily through unkempt leaves, is darker today.

Only the morning before, sun flared — through patches of life that still clung to the trees — in and out her eyes. Today, though, the maples and the oaks shriveled before her, their trunks darkening as the sky grew a violet tinge of light charcoal. The embellishments on their branches, at one time a study in texture and color, rattled like antique chimes without bells. She jumped at the sight of a man who sat cross-legged at the edge of a yard with his liver-spotted hound leaning against his side. They both stared, unblinkingly, across the street to an invisible object. Distracted, she nearly stepped on the carcass of a squirrel. Except for the wet hide, nothing remained. It looked like a costume, sized perfectly for a fist, that was accidentally dropped on the pavement.

She continued on.

9:52 p.m.

Postcard from Berlin

This train is freezing. We couldn't understand the woman who walked by, shivering through her teeth in coarse German. I'm reading with both pairs of gloves, and the leggings I brought do nothing to dampen the chill that has taken my lungs and squeezed them hard. This place, this train, all of Berlin is desolate and eery in the strange bewitching hour. I understand nothing and can't keep warm. Snow blizzards through the air, dancing on the windows menacingly. My boots have not dried in three days, and I am out of socks. The smell of the station when we get off the train is dank, like a must in an attic that froze years ago. At least it's warmer than the car.

__

For most of today I have been thinking about Berlin. It might not have been the wisest choice to spend a late-February spring break in a city that darkens at half four and roughens your cheeks rosy and windburned for days after you leave. But we went anyway, and when we managed to find our stop on the S-bahn, we toppled out into a grey and graffiti'd East Berlin.

A harsh wind drove cyclists down the road like frantic geese that are late flying South. We had managed to reserve an inexpensive hostel, and when we turned the key, the door opened to a man snoring on a bunk in only his underwear. We underestimated the amount of wool socks necessary for such a trip. On our first afternoon we walked, bundled in tights under more tights under trousers, to the Jewish Museum. One morning, the icy drizzle was so bad we came home to warm our undergarments on the radiator for an hour or so before going out later.

We drank from jugs of wine and ate pizza, and then Eli took us to a party. There was talk of going to a 24-hour club. We were tired by 1. I stayed quiet as I tried to decide which accent was harsher — my American or their German.

In brief moments of sunshine, we wandered through galleries on Augustrasse, sipped cappuccinos and savored cakes next to cafe windows, and we crept up the huge staircase of Tacheles, a squatter's art paradise.

We also saw Checkpoint Charlie and the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag and ran our fingers down the Berlin Wall (there was also a large portion of the wall that was still intact near our hostel). The list goes on. But for me, Berlin was like many visits to unfamiliar places in that the spontaneous moments stand out more than the monuments.

8:55 a.m.

Is it too early to make my semi-Victorian inspired holiday wishlist? In the spirit of 70-degree weather, here is Part 1:

British Design 2010 is released today. Beautifully designed by Taxi Studio, the book's title is pretty self-explanatory.

Perhaps this limited-edition copy of the Pictorial Websters is a bit out of my price range. I don't think the $4,600 price tag is swing-able, but the trade edition is doable ($35!).

John Carrera spent a decade putting the book together, and he made a wonderful video about it. Check it out:

Pictorial Webster's: Inspiration to Completion from John Carrera on Vimeo.

The work of Bernadette Griesemer conjures a mix of the macabre, self-deprecating humor, and natural, dream-like ideas that are brought to life by a variety of textures and materials. I think of her jewelry as sculpture rather than embellishment, and the pieces require interaction. The bird's chest opens up to reveal a scroll of paper that unwinds. It would does wonders for the imagination and a tailored tweed blazer. Griesemer's work can be found at Orr Street Studios, and "Artificial Resuscitation" (seen above) is for sale at the Perlow-Stevens Gallery.

Thanks to jacquard, puffed sleeves, corset waists and high collars, I can fully embrace the tournant du siècle look with a twist of today. I love the adventurous, Robin Hood-esque quality of these boots. I think Little John would approve.

100 classic Penguin covers in postcard form.