I used to hate orange. It was so garish and loud and…crass. It looked like it was trying too hard to be cute and failing miserably, like an older woman with too much makeup and tight clothes. (Please, God, don’t ever let me look like that I wanted orange to take on some blue and chill out a bit already.
But something changed last year and now I see orange’s beauty. She is still screamy loud but now I see her joy. She’s just happy as hell and a tad different than everyone else, but she doesn’t care. She’s living it up and if you don’t come along, that’s your loss. I like her, the little racy rebel. I may do a couple of posts in her honor.
Inlaid box from the Cartier “Brilliant” exhibit
Last year’s post about Orange.