Think Pink

I think I may be entering what would, if I were an artist, be called my pink period.  Or to be strictly accurate, my second pink period.

Long ago, before blogging was invented, I wore a lot of pink.  When I was at university, I was known for my love of pink - all shades of pink, from candy to peony.  I have a photo of me at a college ball in a fuchsia dress with a little gauze jacket and a big pink peony in my hair and pink lipstick and yes, it was a lot of pink, but that girl is glowing (it was so long ago I can talk about myself in the third person.)

I realised that this had become perhaps too much of a good a thing one night when a group of friends was playing Psychiatrist.  (A game that is probably now banned because of its insensitivity to people with mental health issues - but we were 19 and clueless.)  If you don't know the game, one person leaves the room and the rest decide on a 'complex' or tic to adopt, like everybody compulsively scratching their heads.  On this occasion, we all had to adopt the personality of the person beside us.  The psychiatrist (sorry, 'psychiatrist') came back in and as soon as the guy beside me said, 'I wear a lot of pink', he guessed the tic.  And he didn't even know me very well.  That was the beginning of the end of my pink period.

In the years after, I wore very little pink.  Colour yes (working with a lot of designers makes me avoid too much black - too obvious), but not pink.

Then, just before Christmas, I was reading Vogue (I mentioned this before, but bear with me.)  On a grey day, the glowing Norman Parkinson photos of a Vogue fashion shoot in India lifted my spirits immeasurably.  I didn't realise it then, but I had been (re)bitten by the pink bug.

Symptom 1: Last week, glove shopping in Rome, I didn't plan to buy pink gloves ... but once inside the shop, realised that no other colour would do.

Symptom 2: Today, I put on a pink cardigan that I hadn't worn in years and only kept out of sentiment.

Symptom 3: Not just that, but (like one in a trance) bought a pink checked shirt in Gap because it was so obviously what I had to wear for my Australia trip.

I like to think that I'll wear pink a little more judiciously than the last time but don't be surprised if you see me sporting pink head to toe some day.  At a time of relentless doom and gloom, pink is an excellent tonic.

And if that doesn't convince you, maybe the fabulous Kay Thompson will: