Mustard yellow is hot right now. I’m seeing it so much that it’s infiltrating my dreams; every night I close my eyes to images of blooming marigolds and streaming spicy condiment. The obsession was getting so out of hand that I finally dragged my toddler to the bus stop and made the long ride to H&M to buy a mustard yellow cardigan. Whew!

So, of course, a lot of my inspiration these days is coming from mustard yellow. I can’t show you the projects I’m working on, but I can show you why this color is awakening my creativity.

Mustard yellow in fashion (Fendi used it particularly well in their fall collection—gorgeous!):

Mustard yellow in home décor (I am envious of anyone in the market for a new sofa right now):

And, because I can never resist creating a wedding inspiration board, this shows how glamorous mustard yellow can be when combined with black and white (somebody plan an early fall wedding, please!):

When we married eight years ago, my husband and I moved into a studio apartment that was, oh, about 500 square-feet. I remember my sweeping excitement about sharing that place with him, daydreaming often about how we would decorate it together.

Reality set in, and I realized that there was no reason to invest whatever miniscule amount of money we had in that tiny apartment, because we probably wouldn’t be there long. It was a disappointing reality to face, of course; I was MARRIED, and my husband and I were sharing an APARTMENT—it seemed like the ideal time for creative energies to flow and our unique tastes to converge.

So, to be practical, we ended up keeping the small sectional couch, the roll-top desk, the old swivel chair, the IKEA end tables, and the brass bed frame—all of which we had inherited from friends. We did our best to decorate around those things, eventually coming up with a decent color palette that, to this day, when I see this combination of colors, I think of those exciting, youthful, sweet and passionate days of early marriage.

Someday I may end up going back to this color palette, so I can always be reminded of that amazing time in our lives.

(Note that, because the colors in the photo look so inaccurate, I did my best to recreate a proper example of that dusty purple, sky blue, pale gold, and sweet ivory.)

With all the separate pieces in this project—a paper invitation, e-mail invitation, flyer, and cookie tags—a non-designer might think it took a lot of time and effort to put it all together. In reality, it was quite simple.

Think about it: I’ve repeated the same illustrations, used only one font, and barely varied placement or scale. It’s such a simple formula that it almost makes me laugh.

The most time-consuming part of this project was probably coming up with a concept (and really, how hard is it to think of hot air balloons for a big, family-friendly celebration?) and then illustrating it. Yet the illustrations are simple, too—almost like paper cutouts. Look closely and note that to create something like this, you don’t need to be a fantastic illustrator, and you don’t need to resort to clip art, either.

Keep in mind that if you’re designing a piece for someone to print at home, chances are that they won’t be able to print color all the way to the edge of the page. So, instead of making a white border look like an accident, make it look deliberate—here, I’ve added a ¼-inch border around the pieces that will be printed at home.

Military-inspired style tore up the runways again this fall, and as usual, I found a cheapy version of the trend that better suits my about-to-have-a-baby, stay-at-home-mom lifestyle.

And truth be told, while I love these double-breasted, brass-buttoned coats from Tibi, Emilio Pucci, and Burberry Prorsum (runway images below from Elle.com), heavy coats aren’t really a practical purchase for me, since I live in such a hot climate. A great cardigan, though? Yes and YES.

So hooray, my double-breasted, epaulet-topped cardigan from Urban Outfitters arrives with my mom in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait to put it on.

Am I the only one who watched the feature-length film of Horton Hears a Who! and needed a moment to savor the images of the city in the background? I remember thinking that our modern society looked so cold and clinical against the lighthearted, animated architecture of Whoville.

Then, my friend, Vanessa, tuned me in to Santa Barbara architect, Jeff Shelton. Not since I first laid eyes on Hundertwasserhaus in Vienna did architecture seem so delightful. Shelton’s buildings seem so organic, almost like they weren’t built, but grown, on location—reminding me of Gaudi, Hundertwasser, and… Dr. Suess.

A college professor once told us that we should always scrap our first idea. “If you can think of it that quickly,” he said, “chances are a hundred other people have thought of it, too.”

Based on that lesson, I never would have expected this poster to be such a hit. Of course, when the “client” is a best friend, and when the “project” is actually a surprise gift, it’s pretty easy to succeed.

The idea for this poster was set in motion months ago. I wanted to make something special for a friend who was moving away, and this friend, being an artist herself with an impressive collection of artwork already, is unapologetically sentimental. So I wanted to create something that incorporated her favorite memories, people, and places—and was worthy of adding to her art collection.

I borrowed the main text from a well-known piece of graffiti in town. The rest of the text, alternating between light and dark gray, was compiled over several months and from about sixteen people—all of whom were encouragingly enthusiastic from day one.

When I delivered her gift last week, printed, framed, and ready for shipment, I remember thinking that she was going to love it. I was wrong. She didn’t just love it. She went crazy ballistic. She was completely beside herself. Her total awe and gratitude was one of my happiest moments, not as a designer, but as a friend.

I didn’t use a diaper bag with my first child; I just used whatever enormous handbag was lying around at the time. This time (just three weeks away from my due date, people!), I didn’t set out to buy a diaper bag specifically, but I looked long and hard for a roomy backpack that could also be slung over my shoulder like a purse.

Ironically, the best bag I found is a diaper bag, and it’s from an Israeli company called Heidi. However, the shoulder straps can be adjusted to make it a backpack, a shoulder bag, or a messenger bag, and the silhouette doesn’t scream, “Diaper bag!”—it’s just simple and cute. I got mine last week and can’t wait to use it.

Well, actually, I can wait three weeks. I’m not really ready to use it today.

I had an intense visceral reaction to designer Melanie Pounds’ Birmingham, Alabama home. Even though it’s not my style—I tend to gravitate toward lighter, crisper interiors that feel airy and clean—I couldn’t tear myself away from the photos of her house in the July/August 2010 issue of House Beautiful.

And I think I’ve finally figured out why. The décor may not be “my style,” per say, but the color palette is lovely, the proportions gorgeous, and every room is so well-edited that there is nothing I would eliminate. (I wish I had an image of her living room.)

So I may never choose those exact pieces, but I’d definitely copy Pounds’ sense of placement and scale, and I’d even steal that color palette—though I’d probably add white to give it a sense of crispness that I love.

When Heather and Michael* asked me to design their wedding invitation, they had already done their research and had several examples of invitations they liked. I took the delicate floral designs that inspired them, mussed them up and brightened the pinks—giving their invitations more personality and punch while still remaining dignified.

A few weeks later, they asked me to design a complementary invitation that would only be sent to their closest friends for a post-wedding housewarming party. I thought it would be interestingly unexpected to take the same single, blossoming tree from their invitation and make it two.

*Names will always be changed.

I know zilch about cars, but if I like the design of one, it can take my breath away.

That’s what happened in 2005, when I set out to buy my first car after accepting a job in the suburbs.

My dad, a very practical person—which has always made him a great adviser—recommended that we buy a Corolla. So I went to Toyota’s website, and… ugh. That? But that’s so… boring. “That’s what I, graphic designer extraordinaire (not my official title), would be driving every day?” I complained to my husband. “I honestly don’t think I can do it. I just can’t.”

I spent the next few days obsessing, when all of a sudden… whoooosh. (That’s the sound of my head whipping around in slow-motion.) Big gasp! I saw this gorgeous car parked on the street and ran around to the back to find out what it was. A Mazda. Mazda 3. Wait, Mazda? Can I afford a Mazda? Gawd, I hope so! Because THIS IS THE CAR I WANT. So long story short-ish, we bought the Mazda 3 hatchback. Man, that was one and-a-half years of amazing driving before we sold it to move overseas.

Next year we’re moving back to the U.S. and, now that we have two children (almost), we’re going to need a car right away. So every time I see a model on the road that I like, I make note of it.

Well I might as well make a note of my ass, because none of the cars I admire are ever sold in the U.S. anyway.

Yet I refuse to accept that my car will have to convey “Mom” as opposed to “designer.” Because even though I’ve been a Mom for three-ish years, I’ve been a designer all my life, so that wins out.