I had a pumpkin orange baby blanket.
Tie-dyed dresses. (Guess which era I just missed growing up in?)
Red velvet boots.
My pictures in high school are rainbow-ish - one year brilliant blue blouse, the next jeweled purple (with three shades off purply-pink silver dangly earrings.) One year in yellow. One year in sage green with an orange oversweater. (I blame the fashion icons of the day. It was hard, like, keeping up with Muffy and Brigid, y'know? .) My senior pictures were taken by my Dad, and even though they were black and white (I had THE COOLEST senior pictures EVAH) I was wearing a kelly green silk top. Always bright.
I have always gravitated towards brighter, more sunshiny shades of the spectrum. Until a year ago, I had never owned anything brown. Sometimes the colors were loud, and sometimes - well, seriously I think about some of those clothes and wince now - they didn't really work, but I had a huge issue with looking like everyone else* and so wore glimmering colors with reckless abandon.
Now that I'm away from that
So. Why, after all this sturm und drang, am I so hesitant to paint my walls pale and soothing? I like them. I really do. But I go to buy the paint and I...freeze up.
Why tapioca? Everyone has tapioca. I want mince pudding. Or pistachio.
It's got to be a hold-over from high school.
*Jesus Gay. My whole rebellion in high school? I thought I was SO DIFFERENT because I wore blue jeans and primary colored shirts while everyone else wore blue jeans and...more muted t-shirts. Although I did wear bright tinkly mad earrings. Mostly silver. Damn. I was SUCH a rebel.