Pink and purple are sweet and feminine, and with turquoise in the mix, you have quite the My Little Pony experience. Aqua is crisp and cool, dusty rose is mellow, and violet is soothing, yet together these colours are a bold choice that could never be considered dull.
Grey is cool, crisp, and content and fully unconcerned. It is pleased to listen to both sides of an argument without ever taking a stance one way or the other. Pink, on the other hand, is prickly and opinionated, and very much invested in whatever is happening at any given moment, though it won’t always voice its concerns. By paring a bold, fiery pink with a steady, smokey grey, it will be clear that you too are one with varied, steadfast opinions, and a mind of your own, though the exact nature of those opinions will remain shrouded in mystery.
Pink is sweet, and so is blue. Blue isn’t typically thought of in cloying terms the way pink often is, but when paired with pink its inner sentimentality is revealed. Blue is calm, clever, controlled, and always kind, but never aggressive. You wouldn’t think of pink as being particularly assertive either, but it is, after all, just watered-down red. But even when veering towards fuschia, pink isn’t overly forceful when paired with blue. These are, of course, colours we associate with newborns. Together their giving, non-threatening natures bolster each other to reveal a candy-coated treat. Perfect for garden parties, but maybe avoid this pairing during business meetings.
Yellow and pink are perhaps the two least appreciated colours on the spectrum. Yellow because it is too bright and optimistic to be taken seriously, and pink because it is associated to femininity and therefore derided. What does it say about our society that what is sunny, uplifting, good, and kind is also rejected? It’s safe to say that yellow is unpopular because it is so eye-catching. People are afraid to wear it because they are afraid to draw attention to themselves. Isn’t there something tragic about that? And what of pink, which also frightens people? Men avoid it because they are afraid of being seen as feminine, but even women often avoid it for the same reason. Why is our society so negative, so harsh, so cruel and cutting? Why can’t we combine two symbols of goodness and be proud of that pairing? Most people love summer, yet still avoid these icons of sugar and sunshine. Let us triumph in our caring, uplifting tendencies, and wear both yellow and pink with pride!
Green is the colour of nature, and is associated with growth, freshness, fertility, and wealth, but also jealousy, and in some cultures, illness. Pink is associated with femininity and therefore nurturing and soothing qualities, but sometimes its so over the top in its sweetness that its sickly sweet. While these colours are on opposite ends of the spectrum, they are actually pretty much the same. Perhaps it is because they are opposites that they get along so well.
Don’t be afraid of pink. People rarely wear it in office settings, probably because they want to be taken seriously and pink still carries a girly connotation, (though this wasn’t always the case) and of course, we still live in a society that considers all things feminine to be negative or at least inferior to masculine things.
Black, on the other hand is utterly gender neutral, and is, of course, itself a neutral. Black is classic, but equally modern. Let’s face it, if all the colours (and neutrals) were to fight for dominance, black would win, but pink would put up a good fight.
Pink is pastel red,
divergent.
The taste of pink is cotton candy
sweet.
Dissolves in your mouth,
rots your teeth.
The sound of pink is giggles,
carnival games.
The feel of pink is soft
thin ribbon.
Pink is innocence,
kind and sweet.
Substance of a dream.
Short attention span.
Young.
I’ve worn this blue, pink, and yellow outfit in the wild before and have been accused of dressing like a box of Crayolas. To that I say, jealous?!
As far as I’m concerned this outfit is cute and fun. Juvenile, yes, but to those who would accuse a 40-year-old woman of being too old to pull off something so playful and twee, I would say there’s no age limit to joy.
In conclusion: can I live?!
It is a cool, misty morning when Grey awakes and greets the day. She’s unbothered by the drizzle outside, and some might say she even relishes it, only happy when she’s sad. She sits on her couch wrapped in a blanket and sips herbal tea, listening to melancholy podcasts about the duality of humanity’s nature. It is only when Pink comes over and drags her out of the house that Grey remembers there is an outside world. Pink is ready for anything but knows that her introverted friend would rather do something solitary and calm. They go to a museum where Pink rushes to the modern art section and asks Grey’s opinion of the pop art, which is her favourite. Grey is neutral on the subject, neither liking nor disliking the work. She isn’t exactly unmoved but is mostly indifferent.
Disappointed in her friend’s opinion, or lack thereof, Pink drags Grey to a small bar with a live band covering pop hits from the 80s and 90s. Pink downs tropical drinks and dances in her seat, singing along to the songs. She tries to get Grey to join her but Grey remains immobile, sipping her whiskey slowly, thoughtfully. Finally the band is done and makes way for the beat poets. Grey nods as they discuss the inevitability of mortality in an indifferent world while Pink tries to hide her irritation. She makes an effort to listen, to really understand, and eventually she gets it, transforming into a dusty rose.
“Shall we go, Pink?” asks Grey as the evening winds down and the poets have all turned to drowning their sorrows in drink. “Rose, call me Rose,” Pink replies evenly. Grey is only somewhat regretful at having brought out Pink’s emo side. She’s glad that they can go home in silence, both brooding about the day’s events, but she knows she’s squashed a little bit of Pink’s effervescence. She does nothing though, knowing that time will heal all wounds, and tomorrow is another day. Hopefully, another rainy day.
“We want to go to the carnival!” squeal Pink and Blue. Their mother, Violet, smiles indulgently and hands them each a few coins so they can traipse down to the fair that has just set up shop in the heretofore empty field near their home. Once they’ve purchased their tickets, little Pink rushes over to the cotton candy stand, dragging her reluctant sister along. Blue insists she doesn’t need any candy but does accept the bites her sister offers. Then they’re off to the carousel where Blue sits on a dignified-looking swan, and Pink chooses a beautiful unicorn. Round and round they go, laughing with delight and pretending they are in a race, though both content to let the other be crowned the winner.
They run off to enjoy more rides but Pink gets distracted by the fortune teller. Blue thinks this would be a waste of money, but Pink can see no harm in indulging in a little whimsy. Blue, always accommodating, gives in and sits patiently while Pink gets her fortune read, only rolling her eyes when her sister isn’t looking. They walk through the hall of mirrors holding hands, not because they are afraid to be separated, but because everything is more fun with a friend. Together they enjoy the bumper cars, the rollercoaster, and the tilt-a-whirl, but hesitate before going through the haunted house. They assure one another that they are not afraid and finally go through, giggling nervously. Pink takes it more seriously than Blue, and Blue protects her sister, assuring her that everything here is fake. They laugh at the ghosts and ghouls but both scream at the jump scares, then laugh some more.
Finally they sit atop the Ferris wheel and swing their legs to make their seat shake, both enjoying the excitement of this carefully constructed danger. They ooh and aah at the vantage point this ride affords them, and peer at all the people below, who look like ants in a collective. Once home they regale their mother with tales of the carnival. Pink is a bit hyperbolic in her stories, and exaggerates how scared they were at the haunted house, and how high they were in the Ferris wheel. Blue is more reasonable and only tells the truth, yet is careful to omit the part where her sister overindulged in hot dogs and popcorn and threw up after the tilt-a-whirl. Once it’s bedtime, they tuck each other in and whisper long into the night about their exciting outing, and fall asleep with their heads touching.
