While clothes shopping in high school, I remember my mother asking me, "Can't you buy anything that isn't black or gray?" I admit that I've never had much of a proclivity for things that are bold and bright. The color scheme of my wardrobe could be mistaken for that of a disgruntled, sullen, heavy-eyeliner-wearing teenager. From the age of 15 until now, I have had one favorite piece of clothing: black cardigans. I own four of them now, with two gray ones on the side in case I'm feeling adventurous.
I suppose that, to many, this lack of color may seem boring. But to me it is classic, simple, serene. The overly sensitive, easily overstimulated parts of me long for a muted, calm environment. I guess too much color makes me a little crazy.
Still, a little color is good. After the most unbelievable Philly winter ever, spring is here. Just this week, I've noticed the first of the yellow and pink buds emerging from the trees. After the dreariness of a never-ending white and brown landscape, those little bursts of color are like gusts of fresh air.
I've felt uninspired to post lately, so I thought it was time for a change. Granted, it is a muted, not-too-much-color-at-once-please change, but it is a bit of change nonetheless. A little color for a little inspiration. Perhaps Mom was right. Perhaps a little color would do me some good after all.
