Color is a huge part of me. It runs almost rampant throughout our home and my closet. I’ve gone through different phases—red, blue, and green when I decorated our very first apartment. Then softer, French country colors when we moved to Atlanta. Then white, blue, and gold when I wanted to be sophisticated and more grown up. I’d just had a baby and wanted to feel and look the part. Recently, only two colors have been inspiring me: pink and blue. I’ve been noticing it everywhere in our home and again, in my closet. Today I went around collecting everything pink and blue I could find throughout the apartment and couldn’t believe how prevalent this new personal trend had become. It’s not like me at all; I never thought they went together before. Where did this come from?
I have a more serious relationship with color that extends beyond The Curated Life. As a black woman from Baltimore, it’s always been important. As a black woman married to a white man, it’s often a topic of discussion. And simply as a person in the world we live in, color is inescapable. Sometimes it feels like color is beautiful in every context but race. My daughter Ella is only 11 months old and I’ve already seen the ugly side of it directed at her. It’s usually with an insensitive or ignorant comment but everyone seems so anxious to label her. Not as smart, not as curious, or the million other things I kill myself trying to help her become—always as black or white. Dark or pale. His or mine. One or the other.
But when I see Ella, all I see is pink and blue.
Her big blue eyes and her pink cheeks. Those eyes that somehow seem bigger and bluer whenever she wears pink. Those cheeks you can’t help but squeeze and make pinker with kisses.
So looking at these items I’ve collected, the manifestation of my obsession with pink and blue, I realize that my home is sweet a reflection of this little great love in my life. It’s almost like I’m surrounded by Ella at every moment; she touches everything. This home is now an ode, my love letter to her.