Rocky Roccoco

Back about fifteen years ago I began to enter into “color” phases. At first it seemed I just liked colors and would probably always like them the same, but there have been developments. Serious developments.

It all started with burgundy. Yea, yea, nice color. A very easy go-to for any girly-girl progressing from a pink-painted universe. When pink grows-up it turns into burgundy. Enter the Burgundy Period. This may be a bit painful to discuss, so bear with me. Yards of fabric, gallons of paint, tassels and fringes, spicy candles and kitchen equipment, all in this intoxicating rougey bliss of a color. The kitchen walls were drenched in burgundy, carpets looked better in burgundy. There are still some remnants here and there of this period, but most was purged, over-painted, or just ruined during the long stage of domination. It was a good 5-7 year reign. It was my early to mid twenties.

Then a slightly daring move came to complement this bloody mess with candy pinks, lush purples and dabs of gold. Our dining room was smeared with the deepest purple. In fact, a wine-loving friend commented she wanted to lick our walls. These were such baby steps here that I can smell the amateur and feel sorry for her obvious attractions. All other colors were there only to praise the Burgundy Queen. Left to themselves, they would fail in their boring selves. Ornate curvy objects were hoarded and lauded atop tables and on walls. I wanted a home grand enough for King Louis XV. Pity me.

A slight progression was to fire engine red. I have some respect here as this was a bold move from burgundy and a big step away from fakey Rococo. The beginnings of an American revival, no?

Things started getting too loud and passionate everywhere. It felt as though I was suffocating from all that sensual business caked on the walls. Could it be that burgundy doesn’t equal beautiful? Now green, there’s a pretty color. Green. Green. Gareeeeeen.

Aww. I still have love for this period and I gladly still sit upon its greeny couches. The greens were mostly sage-like and never lime-like, the muted and dark greens. Golds were replaced with whites and creams. Ornate swirly things were replaced with straight, simple lines. Things should be natural and appetites should not be provoked. Yes, green was a good path and it was a long period where I developed into more sensible décor, much more pragmatic and logical. It was the stage that took me into my thirties.

If it would have been just these two periods, I would not have thought it so odd. But then something happened. Blue! Blue, I NEVER SAW YOU! I had no idea how lovely you were when you’re deep or royal, cobalt or chalky. Blue.

You can see I am still in this period. I see something blue and swoon. I am dazzled by its twinkle and its clarity. I have been in this Period for two years and there is much work to be done. Walls still need paint, couches need accents, dishes need accumulation, but yesterday something happened. A slight development from blue. A perfect accent perhaps? Surely I would never leave you, blue.

But yellow. Not your light safe yellow, but your bright yellow, mustard yellow, colonial yellow. Yes, I think it is just a complement to blue.

Do you have a color history?