November 24, 2004
I get to the train station at Waterloo with a load of gear-my laptop keyboard is dead so I am lugging around an external keyboard and the projector. The weather drips into the pores of my skin and settles somewhere inside my chest cavity, making me yearn for fuzzy slippers, pajamas, and a bowl of homemade soup while sitting in my mostly unpacked living room. It's not a day to leave the house, let alone a day to head into London for a full day of meetings with an over-flowing inbox and a to-do list that makes me want to weep.
The tube at Waterloo is so overwhelmingly full of people waiting to commute to work that the throngs of people back up to the platform. It's a sea of humanity, all reading their newspapers like a ridiculous caricature of urban blight. No one is looking up, looking around, looking alive. It's newspapers and headphones for everyone. I feel my stomach constrict in panic at the thought of joining the crowd, so I turn around and catch a minicab to the office.
London taxis are spacious and full of personality, something straight out of a Harry Potter movie. I love the black cabs, I think they're roomy and accomodating, and they afford windows the size of movie posters, allowing me to engage in people watching. While looking out the window, I realize with a start that it's a black and white world I am commuting into. The buildings are shades of white and grey. The steel-colored sky stretches down to the sidewalk, pouring through the empty tree branches and skittering the dusty and breaking autumn leaves on the sidewalk. It's hard to tell where the grey begins and ends.
People of all shapes and sizes hurry past me. The women are without exception carrying a black handbag, and more often than not, a black briefcase too. The men all have black or chestnut briefcases, and more often than not, haven't tucked their newspaper into it and so have that wedged beneath their elbow.
And everyone that I see out of my cab, regardless of age, sex, or race, are all dressed in black and white and shades of grey. Black overcoats. Black gloves. Grey scarves. Black high heels. Grey stockings. Black boots. Occasionally you see a sparkling sparrow of color, an orange velour scarf around a woman's throat or the randy peek of a green shirt beneath a man's loosely buttoned overcoat. A hidden gem nestled into the look of the person, it's with a start I realize that we are all turning just as black and white as where we work.
Myself included. Black coat. Black knee-high boots. Black dress. Black briefcase. Hair pulled into a ponytail and the only color a pink sweater beneath my coat and a slick of red lipstick.
I am changing into the same color of the world I work in.
I have always dressed in blacks and greys at work. Always. I have a monochromatic wardrobe for a monochromatic world. Maybe the fashion world thinks that the absence of color alludes to creativity in the workplace. Maybe a rainbow vaccuum means we focus harder, without any color or joy to take our eyes away. Maybe we are more serious and austere if we mimic death with our millinery.
Yet color has begun to captivate me. At home, I think of colors. In the new house, I find myself adding bright splashes of color and light into the house-a purple duvet cover. An orange duvet cover. A maroon carpet. Green plates. Riots of color to comfort and assuage and fill the world with light.
Thinking about my world, I realize I always wore black and grey when working for Company X. To fit in with the cold and bitter Swedish winters, I dressed in the camouflage of their world. I hid just as well amongst the gloom and sadness as I did with the meeting rooms. And with that, I realize I do want color. I don't want to drift into the sidewalks and disappear in the masses like an ink stain in a notebook. I want to buy a coat that's Big Bird Yellow. I want gloves the color of candied apples. I want to wear a sweater that's so green it makes you yearn for spring, or a sweater so purple it makes you think of royalty.
I don't want to wear the clothes all at the same time, I don't want to combust into a rainbow-colored explosion, but I do want to wear my Big Bird coat and walk down the sidewalk to my office, helping assure myself and the world that although I am a part of it, I'm not hidden in it.
And as I walk into Dream Job headquarters, I look up at the many stories and the bustle of activities and I want to drop to my knees and cry in sheer and utter gratitude for a company that took me in, that gave me a job when I was blanketed in the grim cover called Black and Utter Loser. I want to sink my hands into it's corporate shoulders and promise to wear colors into the building, to bring life to this building like it brought some life to mine.
Color. For the first time in my life, I want and need color. Maybe as a badge of survival, maybe an illustration of how I've changed, maybe as a show that I am alive'¦and I am so grateful for it.
-H.
PS-Tomorrow is Thanksgiving for my fellow countrymen. I won't be celebrating it tomorrow, but I will on Friday. So for all of you-Happy Turkey Day!
PPS-5 days.
PPPS-I have about 20 minutes of internet time a day and a dodgy keyboard. If I am quiet on other blogging sites, I'm sorry-I'm just not able to get access. It does not mean I have falled off the earth.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
01:06 PM
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