Grey is anonymous,
wise.
The taste of grey is nothing,
just the smell of smoke.
The sound of grey is whistling
kettle.
Repetitive.
The feel of grey is steel,
flat, cold,
strong, flexible.
Grey is neither
good nor bad,
neither this nor that,
sitting on the fence.
Opinionated.
Casual, chic, elegant. No one can take issue with blue, black, and grey. A somber palette perhaps, but one without fault. Appropriate for early spring, when everything is still dead, but beginning to regenerate.
A black turtleneck top with flouncy cap sleeves implies that I’m about to order a café au lait, even though I don’t drink coffee. This top is much more French than I am, even though I was born in France. It was given to me by an American because she felt she was even less French, and thus unable to wear it in earnest.
The grey A-line midi skirt with black floral detailing is perfect for a stroll through a second-hand book fair, but I read all my books on kindle, so I usually wear this skirt while plotting revenge.
Turquoise tights add a touch of whimsy to this otherwise classic ensemble, making the whole thing appropriately twee for a grown-ass woman with a Twilight Sparkle keychain.
The entire outfit says, yes, I am overdressed for brunch, but let me have this, I have so very little else.
Grey isn’t always melancholic, sometimes she’s just indifferent, but lately she’s been going through a tough time. Her friend Green comes by for a visit and rather than go out and pretend to enjoy the insipid offerings of their city, they agree to stay in. Their primary activity is sipping tea while listening to the rain. Though it’s chilly out, Green insists on opening the window so she can smell the rain as well as hear it; she wants to completely immerse herself in nature. It’s early spring and the weather has been all over the place. Sometimes freezing, sometimes mild, usually snowing. Today the rain is diluting the snow into dirt and creating slush, and Grey wonders if she too is a mix of purity and filth. Perhaps we all are, muses Green, knowing everyone has their strengths and their weaknesses.
Green suggests they play an intellectual board game, such as scrabble, as she’s keen to keep her most important muscle, her brain, in constant motion. Grey shrugs, as she could go either way. They play the game, with Green handily winning, as Grey doesn’t put in nearly as much effort. It isn’t that she doesn’t care about the game, but she knows from experience that Green hates to lose, as she’s got a bit of a jealous streak, and Grey is equally happy winning or losing, since she knows the distinction between the two is irrelevant. Life is meaningless either way.
Green isn’t one to get exasperated, as she’s very patient and calm, but she rolls her eyes at Grey’s nihilism. She brings up the current political climate, wondering if we are destroying the world. Grey wisely points out that the world is better now, statistically speaking, than it’s ever been. And yet, no matter how good or bad the world is overall, for some it is a dystopia, and for others, a utopia. This dichotomy will always exist, argues Green, as the actual state of affairs is unimportant. What matters is perception. Some people are optimists, and others are pessimists. Yes, nods Grey, and some are a mix of both. Finally Green and Grey can agree, as they are both realists.
