Illustration by AI Gemini
It would have been a trivial observation if it hadn’t been repeated quite frequently.
There was a good-sized group, shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, literally, and no one dared to start a conversation.
Then, she began to question everything.
“Why is everyone around me so serious?”
“Why so many blacks, grays, navy blues?”
“How can I reach them? How can I communicate with my companions if they don’t give me a single clue?”
These were the thoughts of my yellow jacket.
It stood out, garish, on the coat rack at a conference I attended. It would hardly get lost among the sobriety of the dark coats surrounding it.
This episode wouldn’t have gone beyond, if the same monologue hadn’t arisen in the hairdresser’s closet. This time, the one out of place was my orange winter jacket.
As always, insignificant situations make me reflect.
This time, on color.
Not only about their physical properties, like primary or secondary colors, but rather their capacity to create emotions and establish energetic connections.
Blues and greens: calm and hope.
Reds and yellows: vibrant energy.
Black: fear and apprehension.
I understand very well the disconnection of my cheerful jacket, probably like mine in certain situations.
But color is so much more.
In art, in literature, and even in anthropology, pigments tell stories of courage and heroism (golds); of love and beauty (light greens); of peace and spiritual tranquility (blues and whites).
Anyway, that day I arrived home and when I opened the closet to put away my very orange jacket, I stood for a while observing the silent conversation of my winter palette.
My fluffy greens, reds, and yellows telling stories.
Perhaps not a very interesting one, but at least colorful one: mine.
I closed the closet thinking that well, at least if I get lost in the snow one day, they’ll find me quickly.
