I was at the airport recently watching people return from their business day trips on the usual seven o’clock Auckland - Wellington flight. Sitting next to a little boy and his mother, the boy turned and asked “mummy, have they all been to a funeral?” She laughed and replied, “no sweetie they have just been at work.”
This little boy had a point. Every one of the returnees was adorned in black; the uniform of Wellington business men and women.
When did this rule come in that we have to wear black everywhere we go? I was taught by my mother that black is always a safe option, because it goes with everything, is flattering and doesn’t show the dirt like colour does.
When I returned home from the airport I looked in my wardrobe; a sea of night hued materials, and one yellow dress that I think I have probably only worn once. Just for a laugh, I decided to put the dress on, and I felt so unusual. This wave of happiness crept over me, all of a sudden I was seeing life through rose tinted glasses and the world seemed a much lovelier place. I walked out of my bedroom into the lounge where my partner looked shocked and asked, “What is going on? Where are you going?” This is when I truly realised that a lot of us, as Wellingtonians, are what I am going to refer to as clothing racists.
But how does one rise to the top of this drowning pool of black? How do we get out of this rut we seem to find ourselves in at the end of winter? How on earth do we wear colour?
Here is some inspiration, I dare, no, I DOUBLE DARE you to try it.