Inside the Wardrobe

#febphotoaday #day12 #insideyourcloset #colourtryingtoescape

Inside the wardrobe is a mass of colour trying to get out! It's trapped by all the black I insist on buying. I'm happy, comfortable and confident in black. Black is elegant, Black is classic. Black is easy to care for. "Black is for funerals," my grandmother says.

This is more likely the kind of colour I wear - a flash of crimson - on lips or around neck or on feet. To complement the black, of course.

Every so often, when I open the wardrobe, a much taller flash of colour will unashamedly expose itself and shout at me, "Let me outta here!" Every so often I oblige and take out the colour.

On Friday, when I was dressing to visit the Buddhist retreat, Chen Rezig, with my mum and my Aunty Barb, a bold orange pair of fisherman pants jumped out at me and fiercely demanded to go too. They came with me to school first, where Poppy won Best Pioneer Hat at the Buderim 150 postponed-Australia-Day-parade. They were very pleased to have seen the light of day and I have promised to take them out more often. The dozen or so LBDs in my wardrobe turned their metaphorical noses up at this. Black! I'm sorry! It will only be for the odd occasion...

I'm afraid that colour will always suffer in the end.