Colour it in

Sezane dress
J. Crew sandals
Ellen James bag
RayBan sunglasses
Elizabeth Lyn Jewelry necklace (c/o) (similar)
Linjer rings (c/o) (similar)
Mejuri ring (similar)
Mejuri earrings (similar)
Location: The Manitoba Legislature – Winnipeg, Manitoba

The subject of colour is almost taboo in this space. I don’t wear it. I don’t feel comfortable with it in my wardrobe, disrupting the seamless flow of neutral shades. And yet, here I am in a blue dress with a vibrant floral print, somewhat at a loss to explain myself.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I felt very differently about colour. The truth is, I’ve spent far more of my life embracing it than shying away from it. My tastes were always specific – I’ve never not been particular for a moment. As a kid, I fixated on purple, wanting to wear nothing else. In my late teens, I embraced pink in a way that still makes me cringe. When I moved on from pink, I embraced every colour of the rainbow – the less likely someone else was to wear it, or combine it with another shade, the more I wanted to. I have vivid memories of a pair of orange boots that I often wore with a green sweater and jeans. The whole combination was hideous, but in my own defiant way, I pulled it off.

At that age, I didn’t even like stores that carried too many neutral pieces. I found the aesthetic dull and uninspiring. I was in my early twenties, just easing into my career, and I think I associated those neutrals with the kind of clothes my career would eventually force me to wear, whether I liked them or not. The idea of my work dictacting my wardrobe made me feel constrained. Rather than embracing the simplicity and ease it would bring, I rebelled against it, choosing colour more and more.

…that rebellion against the corporate dress code led me to 2010. I still have a draft post in my old Blogger account featuring a photo of my closet at the time. It is complete chaos. Pink sequins, bold florals, a pile of multicoloured shoes scattered across the carpet. Nothing belongs together. Everything is crowded, double and triple hung on straining hangers in a space far too small to fit it all. When you look at it, the idea of assembling an outfit from the pieces defies reason. I couldn’t do it. I was overwhelmed, frustrated by my own choices and still shopping, for the most part, like the only place I needed to dress for was my next party.

It took time, and serious reflection, for me to move away from the pattern of behaviour that led my closet to that point. Moving to Paris helped. With no money coming in for the first several months, I was forced to be extremely judicious about my purcases. I still made some serious miscalculations – the first thing I bought when we arrived was a pair of bottle green skinny jeans, just for a start. But I made progress.

We moved back to Canada. To cut a long story short, the corporate career that initially made me feel confined eventually became a series of accomplishments I was proud of, and dressing the part felt natural, even desirable. As my responsibilities increased, so did my need for efficiency in every area of my life. It only seemed sensible to remove colour from my wardrobe entirely. It would save me time in the mornings, and time was increasingly precious.

…fast forward to 2020. Suddenly, with nowhere to go farther than the grocery store, I am newly conscious of just how many hours there are in the day. I need to find activities to fill them, and getting dressed has always been my favourite pastime. It’s not that the pandemic brought my love of colour back, per se. But it did bring back memories of happier times, times when we were free to explore the world without fear of spreading a deadly virus to our elderly neighbours upon our return.

The last time I had so much time on my hands was the year we lived in Paris. While I eventually landed a freelance job, I spent the first six months in France working primarily on my blog. I relied heavily on brands I worked with to fill my wardrobe, since money was scarce, so I still wore colour if that was what was available. And I wore colour because in the summer in France, that’s what you do. Winter is for neutrals, summer for sundresses. The logic is simple.

I admit that although I love my spacious apartment, I would have been very content to weather the storm of the pandemic from a Parisian studio, instead. Since I can’t be there this summer – or any time in the future that I know of yet – I am consoling myself by dressing the part, instead. And that means embracing colour.

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