The Colour I Feel Like Wearing - On Dressing by Mood, Not Rules
I have never been very good with rules.
Especially when it comes to colour.
I don't wake up wondering what season I am, which colours flatter my complexion, or what shade the world has decided we should all love this year.
I open my wardrobe.
And I listen.
Some mornings, blue finds me first.
A deep, endless blue. Perhaps I need space. Perhaps I need calm. Or perhaps I simply want to carry a little piece of sky with me.
Other days belong to red.
Red doesn't whisper. It arrives.
Then there are the days when I wear black. Days when I want silence, simplicity, nothing more.
And sometimes, when the sky is at its greyest, I feel an almost unreasonable need for orange.
I have stopped asking why.
The colours I wear often follow my mood. Or perhaps they gently move it somewhere else. I have never quite decided which comes first. What I do know is that colour carries energy, a quiet force that shifts the light of a day before a single word is spoken.
And that, for me, is tied to something I value deeply.
Freedom.
The freedom to wake up different.
To be quiet today and exuberant tomorrow.
To disappear a little. To take up space.
To wear a colour because it reminds me of a place, a painting, a summer I haven't forgotten.
Or simply because it makes me smile.
We live surrounded by gentle instructions.
What suits us. What flatters us. What is elegant. What is fashionable. What belongs in our palette and what does not.
Perhaps some of these rules are useful.
But I would miss the unexpected.
I would miss the orange on a grey day.
The red I wasn't supposed to wear.
The strange blue I couldn't stop thinking about.
I don't need every colour to flatter me perfectly.
Sometimes, I want a colour to disturb me a little.
To wake me up.
To change the light.
For me, colour has never been about getting it right.
It is about choosing.
Choosing according to the day, the light, the mood, the woman I happen to be that morning.
Choosing, freely, is one of life's quiet luxuries.