A couple of years ago, my partner and I installed a new wardrobe racking system in our home. The new system allowed me to see all my clothes, all at once. Prior to this, they had been in various cupboards and drawers in different parts of the house as storage had always been limited.
Once the racks were installed, I hung my clothes exactly as I wanted them, then stood back to admire our handiwork. It looked fantastic! But what I noticed on deeper reflection, was the significant lack of colour. At least half of my wardrobe was black, white and cream.
I knew my style leaned heavily towards the classic but seeing my clothes, all at once, I was startled to learn how little colour I actually wore.
I then recalled one of my oldest and dearest friends stating that she hadn't seen me wear anything but black and cream in years, with the exception of a bright coral pink dress I wore to her daughter's birthday party.
I decided to embark on a colour experiment. I wanted to understand whether my colour choices (or lack thereof) were an actual choice I was making or whether a subconscious narrative was driving my colour expression.
Tickled pink
Prior to the 20th century, in western culture, children's clothing was predominately ungendered. Regardless of sex, infants wore white dresses. When they became toddlers, they continued to wear dresses and tunics as it was considered the best style for ease of movement and toilet training (breeches often involved complicated fastenings that were difficult for young children to grapple with).
Given that the majority of children's clothing was made at home, dresses and tunics allowed more generously for growth spurts, making them a more cost effective way of clothing children. White was prioritised as the undyed fabric was easy to bleach and clean.
Once male children reached a certain age (which could vary but often around 7 years old) they would enter a rite of passage known as 'breeching'. Breeching marked a point where the male child wears pants (breeches) for the first time. It also marked a point in time where the father would become more involved in the raising of the male child. The occasion was often celebrated with a party and gifts.
The shift towards gendered children's clothing started in the early 20th century with changes in style, cut and embellishment. It solidified in the second half of the century driven by mass production, advertising and consumer culture.
As women joined the work force, less children's clothing was made at home. Manufacturers and retailers saw this as an opportunity to significantly increase their revenue. They saw the potential to double their profits by promoting gendered children's wear. Thus the 'pink for girls and blue for boys' code was established.
Prior to this, soft pink and blue were considered 'baby colours' regardless of sex. The assignation of these colours to sex appears to be nothing more than a marketing ploy. A marketing ploy that is now deeply embedded into western culture.
Colouring outside the lines
Coco Chanel was one of the most influential designers of the 20th century. She revolutionized women's fashion by liberating them from the restrictive corsets and ornate styles that were prevalent at the time.
Chanel's designs allowed for freedom of movement and showcased an elegant simplicity that echoed menswear styles.
She pared her clothing back even further by utilising shades such as black, white, beige, and navy. With a focus on clean lines, comfortable fabrics, and functionality, Chanel paved the way for a modern and empowering aesthetic.
Chanel's most famous contribution to modern western fashion is arguably, the little black dress. Black had historically been worn for mourning. It was also worn by the working class due to it's practicality. Chanel reclaimed black as the colour of modernity, promoting it as a stylish, elegant and versatile colour for women.
The little black dress, along with Chanel's muted colour palette, became the epitome of elegance and sophistication. This legacy has endured for over 100 years.
In western culture, we associate neutral colours with refinement, timelessness, professionalism, sophistication, competence and polish. Yet this wasn't always the case.
Prior to the development of synthetic dyes in the 19th century, creating vibrantly coloured fabric was a costly and complex process. Natural dyes were derived from plants, animals, and minerals. Particularly covetable and expensive were the deep reds produced from madder root and purples from sea snails. As a result, brightly coloured clothing was a distinct marker of status, affluence, taste and privilege.
Indian textiles were highly prized in Europe during this time. Not only for their vibrant colours but also for their colour and light fastness which was difficult to achieve with natural dyes. Many other countries were known for their vibrant natural dyes including parts of Africa, Asia and the Middle East.
However, trends shifted as the Industrial Revolution made brightly coloured fabrics more accessible to the masses through the mass production of synthetically dyed fabrics.
This diminished the western association of bright colours with wealth and status, as they were no longer exclusive to the elite. The fashion landscape began to follow a trickle-down pattern. The upper classes would adopt new styles, then the lower classes would emulate them with cheaper fabrics.
As bright colours became more widely available, the upper classes sought new ways to distinguish themselves. Enter the muted tones. This new vision, championed by Chanel, emphasized restraint and rejected ostentatious displays of wealth. Bright colours, now associated with the masses, were perceived of as vulgar and unsophisticated.
Colour clash
This 'othering' of colour continues to have a stronghold today, evidenced by the 'Old Money' trend which has surged in popularity on social media in recent years. This trend is defined by simple, high quality, immaculately tailored pieces in a neutral colour palette. The concept is rooted in the idea of refinement, timelessness, elegance, sophistication and, above all, generational wealth.
Generational wealth occurs when assets and resources accumulated by one generation, are passed down to subsequent generations, providing them with financial security and opportunities beyond what they could achieve on their own. It acts as a financial leg up. This financial safety net doesn't have to be large in order to be considered generational wealth, however, in the case of the 'Old Money' aesthetic, it refers to families whose generational wealth has made them very, very rich. It references affluent families who began amassing their fortunes in the 19th century.
Affluent white families.
This contrasts with the 'New Money' aesthetic. This trend is all about the outward display of wealth through logo laced, bold, trend driven colours and styles from luxury brands.
This aesthetic is rooted in boldness and pride. Pride for newly found, self made success and money. New money has generally been amassed through business, entertainment or technology from the 1980's onwards.
While old money's neutral palette is perceived as sophisticated, refined and elegant, new money's bold, vibrant, attention grabbing palette is perceived as flashy, ostentatious and vulgar.
Vulgarity, in the context of fashion, implies bad taste. Vulgarity subverts the established norms of elegance and subtlety. And in the case of contemporary western culture, those established norms have a neutral colour palette.
True colours
As a part of my experiment with colour, I decided to teach myself colour analysis. I already had a good grounding in colour theory, however, when it came to people, the nuances of skin tone, eye colour and hair colour still left me a little perplexed. I knew when a colour didn't highlight someone's features, I just didn't understand why.
Once I had studied the theory, I decided to do the analysis on myself. The results were undeniable. As it turns out, I am a 'Spring'. The Spring colour palette consists of warm, bright, clear shades. It is the brightest and clearest of all the seasons. Think coral reef, tropical island, frangipanis against a blue summer sky.
I wasn't ready to believe it, so I tested it out. Warm bright purple, turquoise, coral pink, clear tomato red, vibrant cornflour blue, golden buttercup yellow. No make up, natural hair, no adornment, just the colour.
I was amazed. Just the colour alone made me look bright, glowy, healthy, well rested. Even though the colour was bright, it looked at home, harmonious.
I couldn't deny that these colours were mine, they looked wonderful, yet I felt disappointed. I was resisting this undeniable new information. I wanted to stay in my classic, neutral shades. This change felt jarring, like I was being asked to change my whole identity.
'The best colour in the whole world is the one that looks good on you' - Coco Chanel
Colourful character
Our relationship with colour is deeply personal. It is imbued with memories, associations, ideas and stories. It is saturated with history and controlled by culture.
Colour can be used to subvert entrenched ideologies, celebrate and express cultural difference or discriminate and judge.
Colours aren't inherently good or bad, male or female, beautiful or ugly, they just are. It's the layers of meaning we paint them with that makes them so.
It has taken time, but my adventure with colour has opened up new and exciting pathways for me. It has given me access to parts of myself I didn't know existed. It has given the power of authentic self expression back to me.
Colour is no longer something that happens to me unconsciously, it has become something I intentionally choose.
Here are the top three things my newly found colour freedom has taught me.
1. All colours are neutral
All colours are neutral. They don't have inherent qualities that make them good, bad, pretty, ugly etc. While certain colours can influence your mood, it is important to note that it is not definitive. We all carry different narratives that shape our unique perception of colour.
I encourage you to challenge the sociocultural conditioning that you hold around colour. We don't look at the vibrant colours of a coral reef and call them vulgar, yet when it comes to fashion and style, we often do. Open your mind to the possibilities of colour and allow them to express who you are.
2. Think like an artist
I have a back ground in art, yet when it came to colour in my wardrobe I wasn't thinking like an artist. Part of my fear of colour was looking playful and childlike and that simply isn't me. But colour can be used in a multitude of ways to express the full spectrum of moods, ideas and emotions.
Approach your wardrobe like a painter would approach a canvas. Colour was incredibly important for artists Georgia O'Keefe and Henri Matisse, yet they used it in very different ways. Experiment with different colour combinations and see what feelings and moods they evoke.
'Colour! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams' - Paul Gauguin
3. Create like a designer
Doing my own colour analysis showed me that I could use colour to change the way I look. Some colours made me look sick and ghostly while the spring colours made me look healthy and bright.
This made me think of John Galliano's SS/24 Couture collection for Maison Margiela. The creative team used colour to turn the models into ethereal, ghostly looking porcelain dolls. The result was simply breath taking.
Colours that are 'wrong' for you can be used to great effect, if it is intentional.
The tools of the trade
Colour is a beautiful tool you can use to express your authentic style. It is not vulgar, flashy, childlike, or ostentatious. It simply is.
Let nature, with it's glorious abundance of colour show you what is possible. Whether it is a moody winter landscape of muted tones, a tropical landscape bursting with colour or anything in between. Let the real glory of colour be revealed to you by the source that knows it best.
Your colour story is simply that, a story, and you can rewrite it any time.
'Colour is a power which directly influences the soul' - Wassily Kandinsky