Two years ago, at age fifty, I began wearing pink everyday. I called it My Year of Living Pinkly. It was a gift to myself. Pink, particularly bubble gum and fuchsia, is my favorite color and it makes me happy. As a creative, up until my pink journey, I was not focused on a particular goal and I flitted from project to project. Even with all of my flitting, I usually finish my projects. I graduated in 2012 after fourteen years of art school. I spent a year building pieces for my solo Tree House show. I wrote, photographed and self-published books about my dog, Rainbow the Doodle-Dog.
Even doing all of this, I lacked a larger professional and artistic goal. I wanted a cool job that would be a culmination of all of my talents and experiences. I wanted to find my place in the world. I needed a way to suppress or at least channel my ideaphoria into artsy, paying employment.
As you would do to an overgrown garden, I needed to be cut back so that I could bloom. It’s not the best analogy for a fifty-year-old woman but it’s all I have. I discovered that by limiting the color of my wardrobe, I actually expanded my horizons. I searched my closet for every pink thing I had purchased over the last twenty years and organized them into outfits. No more wandering aimlessly about department stores now that I was on a mission to find pink clothes.
I began wearing different styles than I was comfortable with because they were pink. Always a simple and plain dresser, I began to accessorize: hats, belts, shoes and scarves. I became focused in this aspect of my life. I sometimes grocery shopped and bought only pink items or things in pink packaging. I considered reading only books with pink covers (easy enough when you love romance novels). I wrote two pink-themed books about my dog. It became a fun and literally rosy way to live my life!
A lot of wonderful things came out of my first year in pink. People smiled when they saw me because pink is a happy color. I felt good everyday. While never stylish, I finally looked put together when I went out. I’ll admit that I made a couple of poor pink decisions: two pairs of pink Doc Martens and $3,000 spent redoing the interior of my car in pink leather.
When I turned fifty-one, I continued to wear pink and things started to pick up. I started writing an art blog for the RB Landmark; I began planning in earnest for my dream art business. I built a maquette of Doodle Art & Design; a teaching studio/gallery, where I imagined my doodle dogs would be hanging out. I even added two more doodles, Sunny and Stormy, to the family, so I would be ready when the opportunity presented itself. Although Doodle Art & Design has become a reality, it is not a brick and mortar place yet, so I may have jumped the gun getting all of those dogs!
As things have moved along in my life and I have gotten more focused on things other than my person, I began to notice that I am wearing less and less pink. Like a talisman, there is always something pink tucked away on my person. But I’m thinking my pink journey is coming to an end…