My favorite color is the color of ice.
(… According to an “About Me” project in high school.)
I love the unidentifiable color tinge glossing over an ice cube when the light shines through. I also enjoy gazing into clear, clean, fresh water at the distorted pebbles and bubbles of light shimmering and dancing about on the bottom. So you could say my favorite color is the color of WATER – liquid or frozen.
Or I guess, if you look at my houseplants, you could say it’s green. I once bought a beautiful trailing plant with the cutest round leaves, and I almost cried when it bloomed tiny purple flowers. I love flowers, but I REALLY love to see green everywhere in my house: fat green paddles on a succulent; tall, chubby aloes and thin, curvy, tentacle-like aloes; delicate, ruffle-y green leaves flowing over a trailing Vinca vine; ivies slowly creeping down, curving under their earthy terracotta pots; and eager sweet mint reaching for the sunlight from its simple homemade hanger in the kitchen window.
Something about that makes my insides go mmm. You can relax now, and then there’s an involuntarily deep inhalation followed by that fake little cliché smile you see on a woman in a Glade magazine ad. I love to have lots of greenery in my house—
I love to bring the outside in.
So my favorite color HAS to be GREEN, right?
But wait…
That’s not right. My favorite color is black. That’s the reason I dig through multiple buckets of shirts, holding up seemingly identical black tank tops just to find a specific one.
[which I can’t spot immediately, as it is a black shirt in a lumpy ball of black-on-black-on-slate-black]
It’s no accident that 90% of my wardrobe would be mistaken as a large lump of coal from 100 yards away having been thrown into a misshapen heap in the middle of an abandoned train yard… in the unlikely case this were ever to happen.
Black flatters. Black matches. Black swishes, smoothes over lumps, whispers nice words in my ear, and winks victoriously to me at 7:30 A.M. as I’m late to class and, rolling my eyes, remove my one and only blue shirt that I picked the night before, toss it aside, and trade it for a charcoal top, wishing I could be excited about wearing color in public.
No, really, I do enjoy wearing colorful clothing –in fact, I’ve been pretty good about collecting a few select items in muted moss, burnt rust, or brighter cobalt hues—but there’s just something so… magical… about black.
So then how can I explain this:
My FitBit band – something pretty permanent – is not black.
[Rose Gold!]
My slippers? Hmm, oddly, nope!
[Light Pink!] 
What about my favorite light sweater which I love, and I got from my mother dearest?
[Blush!]
And my fish, who is actually a gold fish, but I picked him—and his sea glass—and his pebbles—because they all followed a certain color scheme?
[Pink!] 
And my best flower pot, with our most precious plant (from our wedding) in it? Or my cutest little bowls with pretty paper clips and pens in them on my desk?
[White Marble!]
which I understand is not a color but a pattern, but I include it as an example of choosing SOMETHING other than black.
I think it comes down to this:
I have different favorite colors for different things.
A good friend of mine, when asked her favorite color, says: “white for the house, black to wear, blue to look at.”
I couldn’t appreciate her viewpoint more. How genius is that? Just like almost anything, I don’t really need to have one “favorite.” Maybe I don’t have one favorite food – maybe I have a favorite fruit, vegetable, type of pizza, type of cereal, flavor of RX Bar, breakfast, snack, supper, and dessert. Similarly,
I’ll have my own array of favorite colors,
THANKyouverymuch.
Now, as pointless as this post appears…
Is about as pointless as it actually IS. Mostly I’m being poetic while trying to justify not knowing the answer to one of the simplest questions commonly asked to anyone: “what is your favorite color?”
I hope you enjoyed finding the solution with me.
Until next time,
Just Me 
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