Color Me Spring
Though the passing of Memorial Day Weekend unofficially ushers in summer, I’m still in the daze of spring. That’s because in Boston, it cropped up one day, in full petaled raiment, and just as suddenly withered to the scorch of summer. Twists of purple wisteria wound their bark around New England porches as dogwoods stood erect, draped in skirts of pink. My icy attitude toward this town was about to melt, finally. Then the colors faded. The mercury jumped in the thermometer, and now there’s asphalt, glare, and humidity.
Nowhere near Beantown but I love the color in these blooms:
If I mold my memory right, I can trace a convincing genealogy of my color appreciation to Viet Nam. My first trip back to the country, since the fam left, occurred during my middle school days, when ’70s retro was all the rage and the inches of your platform heels directly correlated with your score on the cool-o-meter. So at market in VN, I picked out two pairs, one neon orange and one neon green, both in faux leather, each to match the sundresses I had tailor-made. Well I like to think I’ve grown more shrewd in my palette of preference since then. In any case, often color plays a more important role in my aesthetic determinations than I realize. Certainly after watching Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love color will be part of my conscious framing this summer.