A Nod to Pink Freud: For Hedy and Jeanne

I have never been much of a pink person. It always seemed to be the standard-bearer of the pastel milieu, rarely given to emotional and expressive “hue” responses. Pink was always subtly forced upon young girls as the cloak of femininity from pre-school to pubescence. And I saw very little of the color in my home, except for a large mid-century painting that hung in my parents’ bedroom as long as they remained coupled.

Nevertheless, I have always been a color-driven person, surrounding myself with rich shades of eggplant, cornflower blue, chartreuse, Chinese red, and persimmon. This has only intensified with maturity, as the only color phobia is that of a monochromatic white, grey, or black environment.

As an exercise to prove myself once foolish and judgmental, I have scoured and pored through the back alleys, dusty portmanteaux, and obscure foreign digital sites … in search of shades and images of pink that I fancy. What has resulted is a collection of ephemera, photographs, and “art” that would either look terrific at Marklewood or that I might (just the teeniest bit) covet.

Raspberry, fuchsia, sanguine, rose, and the many other pinky hues all have a place in our spectrum. I shall resist any further condemnation, scoff, or sigh when faced with pink, in concern that I shall once again be red-faced or blush.

Note: some of these images may have very little pink, but what they do have seems to dominate the feel, and is often quite shady.

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