Last weekend I saw the Think Pink exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. When I opened the glass doors of the hushed gallery, I felt I had entered another realm - a girly feminine world of delicious confections. Beautiful rose and pink clothing artfully arranged made my heart leap with joy. Hats, jewelry, children's clothing, slippers and even a man's suit. Pink was once a man's color and not often worn by women until the 20th century.
For me, pink is one of the most evocative colors in the spectrum. In all its many variations, I am drawn to it like a moth to light. I love hot pink, ballet pink, rose, coral, even Pepto-Bismol pink. It makes me happy, delirious even. Fear not...I am not a throw-back of absurdity in my love of pink: I wear it discriminately, in a skirt now and then, ballet flats with my jeans, or a cashmere sweater. I do have one photograph of myself in high school though, where I am wearing a pink dress, pink tights, pink lipgloss and pink nail polish. I would never do that today - I like too many other hues, including black. I love that picture however, because I am conspicuously being who I am in my heart.
Pink is tender and soft or vibrant and animated. Its delightful panorama calls out "It's a girl!". Just like the bassinette.