About colours

Choosing the right colours for my self-made wardrobe is indeed a delightful yet challenging endeavor. Resisting temptation isn’t about denying joy; it’s about finding balance.

I always stand before yarn shop windows bursting with rainbows—turquoise like tropical waters, coral like sunset kisses.

I’m also drawn to hand-dyed yarns. Their imperfections speak to me—the uneven saturation, the subtle variations. I understand the temptation well. The way they beckon, daring you to create magic. 

But here lies the paradox: these ethereal colors, while enchanting, don’t always translate into practical garments. They’re like fragile dreams—beautiful but elusive.

Can I truly wear a lime-green sweater to the office? Will the mustard-yellow hat match my coat?

As I knit, I puzzle over color combinations. The blush pink that resembles dawn’s first light—how does it nestle against the rusty red? Can the seafoam green find harmony with the misty lavender?

I stand before my yarn stash and notice the dissonance.  I trace my steps backward: when did I abandon my love for dark color?

My September resolution is simplifying. Not because bold colors are wrong—they’re simply not my essence. As an introvert who appreciates subtlety and simplicity, i should find an harmonious color palette that aligns with my personal style and preferences.

First of all, I will reflect on my natural color inclinations. Which shades resonate with me? I have to consider the balance between love-at-first-sight appeal and practicality.  For instance, I may adore lime green and yellows, but I prefer a neutral palette for everyday outfits.

My color palette should be like this:

• Main colours: black, grey, white;
• Neutrals: beige, soft taupe;
• Accent shades: These can be bolder and more playful—perhaps a muted pink, a warm orange, or a soft lavender.

Neutrals, the quiet companions, provide a foundation. Gray, beige, black, and white allow other colors to shine.

I will choose color pops for accessories, like confetti in a monochrome parade.

The whimsical coloured shawl drapes gently and the rest—the sweaters, the skirts—they embrace neutrality. They’re my refuge, my armor against the cacophony beyond. Colors needn’t shout; they can murmur, too.

So, I’ll keep knitting—sometimes with the blush-pink yarn that flirts shamelessly, sometimes with the quiet gray that whispers, “You belong.” And perhaps, just perhaps, my wardrobe will reflect not just my taste but my journey—an introvert’s quest for harmony.