When I was a little girl I was obsessed with the color purple. I wanted to live in a purple house. Our home was blue. I wanted to sleep in a purple bedroom. Coincidentally my bedroom was blue too. I wanted to wear purple clothes to school. My private school uniform was navy. Do you see a pattern here?! Even in college, my passion for purple still reined as I papered my dorm from head to toe in plush plums and eccentric eggplants. Barney overload? Perhaps. A desire to torture my new roommate? A little. Or maybe I was boycotting the blue and holding on to my hallmarked hue.
My lust for lilac lasted some 20+ years. Although I still hold violet very close, my mood has moved from mauve and gravitated towards gray. I can’t say enough about the serenity of slate and my draw to dust. Perhaps it’s a sign of refined maturity. I just hope it’s not a sign of getting old. They say with age comes ash. And I’ve seen that first hand in many forms with my 30-something self.
The other day a good friend sent me a link to The Purple Store, an online space paved in periwinkle. I was actually in the middle of crafting this post, so I took a moment to window shop in hopes of reclaiming some grape inspiration. The e-commerce site offers an array of amethyst, but on serious steroids. There’s even a wedding page dedicated to showering your marriage in mulberry. So following my brief trip down the pomegranate path, I concluded that there will always be a place for purple in my heart and home, but in moderation. For the record, I haven’t order anything orchid. Yet.