Picture it. 13 year old me. Freshman in high school. I was quiet, reserved on the surface but HILARIOUS around my circle (HILARIOUS, I say). There were whispers about him. Whispers about him and me. Him and me, we hadn’t actually met. We had seen each other, from a distance, when the other wasn’t looking. Decisions were made, from the Chorus at any given high school, the Chorus who decides two people would be so cute together. Decisions were made to introduce us. I knew in advance that this was going down, like some gossip-based Minority Report lottery ball. So I prepared.
A short-sleeved, space-dyed yellow top and jeans would be the foundation.
This was the best Google Images could do. Work with the vision, people.
A light coating of Covergirl’s gold eyeshadow.
I lived for the individual rectangles of color from Covergirl. LIVED.
A golden zig-zag headband, to pull my long, relaxed-straight (but bumped at the ends just so with rollers from that weekend) back into a lion’s mane, in my mind.
I can just hear the breakage of crown-hairs. Memories.
Light yellow nail polish. See, in high school, I was KNOWN as the girl who matched everything. When I say everything, I mean everything. It was not a gotdamn game. I loved a monochrome look.
And smelled of the finest in Victoria’s Secret Vanilla-ries.
I had different-colored and scented lotions to match my outfits too. I told you it was. Not. A. Damn. Game.
Guess who could not be told sh*t with this total ensemble?
The Big Day arrived. Lunchtime. A picnic-table by the big window in the cafeteria. I sat with familiar faces. And then…he was brought to me. I, normally shy, reserved, a bit socially anxious…felt none of that. I felt cool. Confident. Nonchalant. I turned around to face him, leaning back against the table with my elbows propped up. Cool as a cucumber (why is that a saying, anyway). We said our nice-to-meet-yous. Smiles. A brief moment that was soon over.
That was nearly 19 years ago….and we’ve been married nearly 10 years. I am not sure if you can call it Love At First Sight, but the other love story that happened was between me and the color yellow.
Yellow is my Power Color. I can conquer all things and dazzle all people when I wear yellow, gold, and their varieties. I feel like a Golden Goddess from head to toe. Although I did not realize this until well into adulthood, it is interesting tracing back to that moment…I instinctively knew that, to make my best impression, I was to wear Yellow. That quiet confidence I exuded…may have set the stage for so much.
Aside: To this day, vanilla remains one of my favorite scents (though no Vanilla Lace is in my current collection, alas).
I love having the memory of the moment my husband and I first met, so long ago. I love that I remember what I was wearing. I love that Color is such a strong part of so many of my nostalgic moments.
I knew my Power Color at a young age and it continues to be my favorite color to wear. Let me find your Power Color and help you create your own Color Stories.
Do you have a strong Color Memory? Share it in the comments.