Two weeks ago, during one of my usual dinner with friends, I was invited to a double-birthday celebration. Without giving it a second thought I said 'Ok', and within miliseconds I had already confirmed my attendance for the party. I did not think much about it then, and very soon after, as it usually does, the event slipped through my my mind and it was just reduced to being another event that my phone would automatically remind me of, 2 days prior to the actual date.
A week later, as I was routinely checking my facebook account (by the hour), I noticed an 'event-invite' that I had not previously seen. For once, the invite did not seem to be as useless an invite as quizes, Facebook shamelessly promotes. I recodnised the event almost immediately, scrolling down the page, reading the details of which were presented to me. It was the double-birthday celebration that i had been verbally invited to the week before.This time round however, to my dismay, the 'details' included in it stated one alarming fact that I dreaded about parties: tacky party themes, and of all the silly things 'tacky' can represent, this party included the word 'pink'.
People who know me, are familiar with the fact that aside from my artworks, I detest colour, particularly in my clothes. It has not always been that way of course, but quite recently, after years of unsuccessful experimentations and needless to say, exposure with regards to colour and print on clothes, I came to the conclusion that i look best in either black, white, a shade of grey that almost resembles black, greyed, and muted blues and finally, the lifeliest colour that my skin can handle: Maroon.
I suppose one might think this would definately cut down my time to dress up by a distinct fraction, but one might need to rethink that fact when patterns shades and hues come into play. To top it all off, we have not even begun mentioning about shoes, bags and most importantly, circle lenses.
I just sat in my chair, stunned of the fact that I might have to step out of the warm and cosy comfort that greys and blacks seem to provide me, and step into the world of striking hot pinks, fushia and magenta. I glanced over to my opened wardrobe, and sighed at the sight of greys and blacks staring back at me, as if furious at my possible decision to stray. I shifted my glance back to the monitor screen refreshing my 'window' only to be greeted by another useless Facebook pop up. It was a quiz which reads: "What colour are you?
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