Pink + Orange
They got me, y'all. They got me good.
I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know what influenced me toward them. Toward embracing them and seeking them and enjoying them so very much.
Maybe it was Taylor.
Maybe it was Naya.
Maybe it was Palm Springs.
Miranda Priestly would relish informing me that a high-end fashion designer decided this course for me years ago, and now I’ve picked it up from the proverbial discount bin.
Regardless, the color combination of pink and orange has sunk its colorful hooks in me. I woke up one morning and realized pink and orange were everywhere.
My Stanley Cup. My Halloween decorations. My tote bag.
It’s not strictly, purely “pink and orange,” either. It’s the entire spectrum of colors that encompass it. Coral. Magenta. Peach. Tiger. Tangerine. Barbie.
On the edges, we play with purples and yellows. Lemon. Amethyst. Canary. Orchid. Pineapple.
They’re the colors of sunshine and sunrise and sunset and hope and warmth and space and openness and happiness.
Even now. In the midst of Everything.
It’s not the muted, coy versions of the colors—I’m not feeling Millennial pink1 or butter-beige.
These colors are strong. Powerful. Bright. Mighty. Loud. Potent.
These colors want to be noticed. They want to be heard. They want to be included. They want to bring joy and happiness and contentment and warmth and safety.
Even now. In the midst of Everything.
Huh. Maybe that’s why they’re here.
or, as I lovingly refer to it, “dirty pink”