The other day, observing a woman of confused soul feeding the urban pigeons, it dawned on me. I understood that the pigeons don’t only inspire our movements during rush hour, they are also fashion consultants.
And there I imagined them. In that yearly meeting of the ones that decide what we wear internationally every season. Sitting with the manufacturers of fabrics and clothes, disheveled, with their little legs hanging, flapping their wings with frantic inspiration. Repeating: “those greys and those blacks and those greys and those blacks and those greys and those blacks, with a bit of white and some dirty greyish green and some dirty greyish purple…” How didn’t I see it before? And I have been seeing urban pigeons and muttering against the prevailing colours, or anticolours.
It is not that I am very interested in fashion. I think more or less like Oscar Wilde, that it is so ugly that it has to be changed every six months. But I am interested in colour and form. And politically I don’t want to emanate the wrong wave length. Especially if it promotes indecision, lack of commitment and lack of maturity. After all we are in crisis and I care for my vanity with feminist indulgence.
Even if it might seem trivial, colours matter. I am convinced that a more joyful palette would contribute towards taking us out of the crisis. Economically and existentially. Colours heal. It is not the same to sit down to talk with someone dressed in grey than with someone dressed in turquoise. Likewise it is not the same to dress in grey than to dress in turquoise.
Turquoise, for instance, would be a good colour for the social moment that we are in. In chromotherapy it stimulates the immune system and psychologically it promotes renewal. A population with a strengthened immune system and a renewed spirit can cope with anything. An undecided, immature and equidistant population, can’t.
Each colour has its qualities. I am not saying that everyone should dress in turquoise to get out of the crisis. Although at it, it would unite us. But if everyone could surround themselves by the colours that better suited their body and soul, instead of having to adapt to the lack of variety that the market imposes, it would be a different story.
It is no coincidence that the most pacifist movements are also the most colourful. I can’t imagine a multicoloured army killing anyone.
Illustration: “Now what”, from the Feminist gooseneck barnacles series.
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