Written by : Trinett Mangal.
It was the genesis of the 1990’s; I vividly remember one of my favourite teachers stepping into the classroom with unapologetic confidence. She was dressed in a purple and orange ensemble. It blew my mind as I had never seen that colour combination before and she looked so good. The room was camouflaged by her bold fashion choice and my senses were intrigued, yet deep within myself I thought I could never pull that off.
I was raised by hardworking people who did their best to put food on the table. In my household we were always on a budget. I watched my parents struggle to make ends meet and my encounter with a series of setbacks cautioned me to only ask for what I needed. I extended my overwhelming sense of conscience to my fashion sense. By the time I approached my early twenties my wardrobe was what I would like to call purely functional. On any given day, I wore mostly navy blue, dark brown and black outfits. I shopped almost instinctively this way. Until the day a friend asked me with sincerity, “Are you depressed?” I couldn’t think why he would ask me that question. My friend went on to comment that he noticed that I wore only very dark colours. He made me realise that it was almost as if I didn’t want to be seen.
As soon as he brought this to my attention, I was forced to really consider why I only wore dark colours. At that time, I believed that choosing basic colours were less restrictive and would suit most dress codes for any occasion. To be honest, I was really just trying to make rent and trying to look fashionable was not an absolute priority.
To be honest, I was really just trying to make rent and trying to look fashionable was not an absolute priority. Over time I learned that there as a mysterious current that ran deep inside the wardrobe that housed no colour. I realised that I did not like to take risks in the event that people would criticise me. Better to play it safe and just blend in with the crowd. The truth is an orange piece of fabric in the summer time would cost no more than the black or brown textile that I was more prone to wearing. I already had a unique name I thought nothing else about me needed to stand out. I dug a bit deeper and recognised that I bought into the noise around me that said that I was too dark skinned to wear bright reds and sunshine yellow treats. Over time I realised that brighter colours really complimented my skin tone. All I needed to do was learn what colours blended well with my melanin.
On the rare occasion that I see a rainbow painted in the sky, I am encouraged to embrace all the colours on the spectrum of God’s divine wheel. The more I explore and wear vibrant shades of colour, the more alive I feel. I have begun to realise that bright colours are good for an introverted soul because it isn’t about standing out but about “standing in” embracing the quiet but bold strength that lies within yourself.
I now adhere to my own standards and give myself the permission to wear a bright yellow jacket donned with a pair of killer jeans. In the summer time, I embrace a splash of colour on my nails and I have welcomed highlights of deep burgundy hues in the strength of my African-Caribbean hair. I stand freely in the light with eyes wide open, loving all the colours that surround me. Every bold shade of colour is made by God and it is indeed a wonderful sight for my grateful eyes.
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