Pastel, blush, peach and dusty: Pink is nostalgic, feminine, divisive.
Existing somewhere between red and white, pink implies a sense of softness, an injection of colour, an enigma. From pink skies at night, through to the short-lived, pastel-pink cherry blossoms we celebrate at the beginning of spring, pink signals a transitioning of things: day’s transition to night. Winter’s transition to spring. New beginnings.
Its elusive appeal lies in its chameleon-like ability to lend its malleable hues to the different milestones in our life.
(Clockwise from left: Pink glitter walls by an unknown source, pink sky delight via @lovewant, source unknown)
As infants, it was our favourite colour, albeit unwillingly. Serving as a gender identifier of sorts, we were wrapped in soft layers of sickly-sweet pinks, and clothed in even more.
As teenagers, pink highlighted our vulnerabilities by way of flushed cheeks and sunburnt shoulders, caused by long summers on the beach with friends and highschool crushes.
These days, it’s the millennial pinks that rule. Just take a look around, and you’ll know what I’m talking about: It’s in your nearest Gentlewoman mag and on your ACNE or Mecca bags. It’s the colour of your mansur gavriel bucket bag, or your mari giudicelli mules. The millennial pink can be identified as the anti-pink pink. It’s the pastel salmon, peachy pink. The Glossier pink. Yes: it’s so widely admired by millennials that savvy brands are patenting its hues. But don’t be mistaken, I’m no innocent bystander in this phenomenon: I’m a knowing and willing participant in my generation’s enduring admiration for these pastel, anti-pink pinks. What’s your favourite pink?
(Clockwise from top left: Glossier Pink, Architecture by the surreal Mexican architect, Luis Barragan, delicious mules by Mari Giudicelli, The Gentlewoman featuring the inimitable Angela Lansbury, a peachy-perfect purse, millennial pink, more creations by Luis Barragan)