Those croissants. Lily went to great lengths to transport them from the upper east side to Brooklyn, and there they are, piled on a platter, perfectly browned. I have never seen anyone bite into one. Every episode morning breaks with a Protestant chirp, bracing helicopter shots of the sun rising over Manhattan, and a table set to the brim with inert Continental breakfast foods. Orange juice, coffee, pastries, fruit, yogurt. As you would expect from someone like me, I find the pastries maddening. They look so good, and they're not eaten.
I'm not sure about the others, but Chuck and Serena have signiture gastronomic props. One might even call them familiars. Chuck can reliably be seen draining tumblers of brown liquor in his hotel room. It seems he runs on the stuff. Perhaps his peculiar way of moving can be ascribed to the lubrication of his hydraulic limbs. Without whiskey he might--who knows?--become Nate.
Berries, it appears, are Serena's substance. They are somehow both a diet and a comfort food. While others consume theoretical croissants, Serena breakfasts on mixed berries. When she pulls off a scheme (don't worry, it will fail by the end of the episode) by posting as Gossip Girl, she is luxuriating in bed, feasting on berries, smirking. Finally, when her life has run dry, her fantasies evaporated, and her imagination halted (which by the way never happens to people in this show--there is always a new angle), Dorota asks her "why you eat berries in dark?"