Monthly Archive for June, 2008

Massimo Vignelli , the acclaimed designer, who was responsible for the visual identity of American Airlines and the design of the map for the New York Subway system, among other design accomplishments, said: “Black has class. It’s the best color. There is no other color that is better than black. There are many other colors that are appropriate and happy but those colors belong on flowers. Black is a color that is man-made. It is really a projection of the brain. It is a mind color. It is intangible. It is practical. It works 24 hours a day. In the morning or the afternoon, you can dress in tweed, but in the evening, you look like a professor who has escaped from a college. Everything else has connotations that are different, but black is good for everything.”

I couldn’t agree more.

The late great country music legend Johnny Cash and I have a lot in common. No, I have never walked the line nor have I spent any time in Fulsome prison. However, like Johnny Cash and the famous Francophile, Morticia Adams, I have made a bold and unapologetic commitment to uni-hue dressing.

It was early in adolescence that I donned myself in a uniform of noir in a pre-goth iconoclastic rebellion. I relied on the power of the nigredo to express both my angst and my artistic nature. My cloak of darkness was symbolic of my inner state of adolescent angst.

My black filled closet created a sort of sartorial Sartreanism or Camus couture—if you will.
Black bore the burden of communicating gravitas, depth, creativity, iconoclasm, mystery, and style—a lot to expect from a single outfit. Unfortunately, my continued attempt at individuality through a complete rejection of color that could not be found in a bruise has been universally appropriated by those in university philosophy departments, writing programs, and coffee houses filled with the ubiquitous woman in black.

It was the standard attempt at iconoclasm and rebellion via a cliché. The hidden or dark side of my costume de noir is that it allowed me to blindly grab two items from the black hole that was my closet and with no forethought emerge with something that appeared moderately chic and pulled together—working as a sort of Garanimals for adults.

Unbeknownst to me the “gal in black” look, had an inky expiration date obfuscated in the dark fabric that had expired as long ago as the collection of questionable canned goods that sit in the dusty curiosity museum which I call my pantry. I realized that my quirky and rebellious look had begun to look sad, lifeless and in the wrong lighting a little “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?”

When assaulted with an epidemic of uninvited inquiries in regards to my sleep habits and general well being, I would attempt to assure the insensitive interlopers that I was as energetic as my phlegmatic nature allowed. No, I did not need a Vitamin B shot or more iron in my diet—but I could use some color. Black was no longer registering as cool or sophisticated but as funereal. The irony is as the closer we get to death the less black works.

In attempt to revive my fading élan vital, I recalled faded memories of an octogenarian aunt who double tasked her Revlon Cherries in the Snow lipstick as a makeshift rouge. When the pinching of her cheeks no longer provided the flushed results she was looking for, she applied halting streaks of red to her sharp cheekbones that unearthed her Osage ancestry. She blended the best she could without a mirror. The results were mixed, sometimes she would achieve a China doll blush, rings of rosy red dotting her powdery canvas and more frequently she looked as if she had been kissed by a Rorschach test.

I went through my combination junk drawer/ makeup drawer that contained enough loose change to count as a piggy bank and I found a Tempting Taffeta blush that could serve as a time capsule to a former me. This drawer held a me that had temp jobs and dated a pilot with addiction issues. I bought the blush at a Bullock’s in Encino back when I wore Norma Kamali mini skirts and went to the Red Onion for the $1.00 Kamikaze night. I dusted off the once shiny black compact with scratched up double C’s and assured myself that blush never goes bad. I loaded up a generous application on a blush brush and applied it to the place where me cheek bones should be. The Tempting Taffeta blush left my face resembling a pallor of polyester.

Deciding, on second thought, that blush can go bad. I headed to my least favorite place in the world after the dentist, and the DMV. I headed to a department store cosmetic counter. I came armed with the best defense one can have when facing a profiteer of insecurity, I knew exactly what I was there for. I was unwilling to listen to her coos about my beautiful eyes and how much bigger they would look if I used a purple eyeliner and their newest lash extending magical mascara. I left with my single purchase, some psychic residue from the snotty attitude of the sales associate and a hope for youth and beauty all to be found in a blush.

Sadly, I discovered that there was not enough Nars Orgasm blush in the world to bring me back to life in all black. All out of aces, I knew had to rethink my fashion philosophy. This was the moment red started sneaking into my closet. Soon after orange arrived. Later on I bought brown.

I do see the expansion of my colour scheme as more than just a mere matter of maturing skin. There was a corresponding inner change that had occurred with each integration of a new colour. Just recently I bought a beautiful bold oceanic blue scarf that would have never would have occurred to me before. Surfacing from the depths of despair it seemed like a triumphant colour—and it looks really great with a basic black tee and my city fit stretch black cropped chinos. Others may just see a beautiful scarf, I see it as a sign that I have expanded my capacity for colour—not a small achievement. Still, black makes up over 80% of my closet and I like it that way.

List of articles/ blogs on black:
The Black Wardrobe A digital showroom for all of this bloggers black wardrobe.
Jerri’s Organizing and Decluttering News explores “Wearing Black: The Benefits of a Simplified Wardrobe.”
Observation Mode questions “Is black ever OUT?”

If you have an all black wardrobe and you want to get a job, try here. Oh, and you will need a lot of Woolite for All Darks and a lot of these. As a matter of fact, the simplicity of the black wardrobe is forever complicated by my endless need for lint rollers.

Photo of black wardrobe comes from here.