I recall the first time I fell in love with pink. Surprisingly it wasn’t when I was a little girl. My brothers will insist to this day that I didn’t know I was a girl until I was ten. Of course, that’s absurd, I always knew I was girl, especially since dresses were part of my school uniform in Kenya; something that I loathed every day. I just didn’t grow up with set limitations of how girls should act. I went on crazy adventures with my brothers, scraped my knees (I still have scars to prove it), got into neighborhood fights with other boys, I even jumped off a roof once. Regardless, growing up in Nairobi, my mother never told me that girls should act a certain way, or a girl should like certain things. So, that’s why I remember the first time I fell in love with pink, because it was organic.
I was a 14-year-old freshman perusing through the junior section of a department store when I saw this pink fluffy, hooded zip up sweater. The body and the sleeves were different shades of pink and I remember coming to an irrational conclusion: I must have this thing. I grabbed the sweater off the hanger and raced off to show it to my mother who was in the adult section of the store. I remember the look on her face when she first saw me holding that pink sweater; it was half smirk, half smile. Like she wasn’t sure why I was holding this pink thing but it certainly wasn’t because I intended on owning it. When I told her I wanted it, the smile faded from her face. “Really? That’s a pretty strange color for you.” Long story short, she let me have the sweater and after that moment my closet would evolve into Elle Woods’ closet.
My pink craze held up until the beginning of my senior year in high school as I discovered the boho-chic look and wouldn’t wear anything unless it had peasant as an adjective. Yes, I was a fashion victim and teen vogue was the perpetrator. I moved on from pink then but I never fully let it go. As an adult, I have maintained my adulation but I only consume it in low doses. However, at the beginning of Spring 2017, I found myself wrestling my 14-year-old self when pink took over fashion magazines and my favorite lifestyle sites. That unreasonable need for a pink suit, a pink baseball hat, pink loafers with pearls on the heel, the list goes on, took over. I’m thrilled to report that I prevented the resurgence of pink from driving me to bankruptcy.
While I did curb my initial ravenous appetite for pink, I have decided that if I’m going to wear pink, I’m going to go all out. Just as I did when I was younger. In this case, a pink ruffled top with bright pants. The green in the pants kind of makes me look like a flower, but everyone loves flowers, right?
