About a year and a half ago a circle of friends started getting in to some science regarding colors, and how people relate to them. The principle of the science is that the way people perceive colors is affected by the colors around them. This explains basic everyday mysteries about why some people can wear yellow, and some people cannot. (This always takes me back to a time when a coworker wore banana yellow scrubs to work, and people who have no interest in how this person looks any other day, flat or told her to never ever wear that color again. It was that bad.)
So for a year and a half I went down the rabbit hole into the science and art that is known as personal color analysis, specifically the Sci/Art 12 season method. No other method will do
It's no secret that babywearers follow and set tends sometimes that would lead hundreds into jumping off bridges, if that is what the trend suggested we do. I am totally a lemming, for sure, but getting through a seriously deep depression, the entity that is Personal Color Anysis was a good one too jump head first into it. Looking and feeling my best is what I needed next, after weaving. Weaving helped me keep trucking, when I didn't want to truck any now. Personal Color Analysis was to help me feel good in that decision.
There are two ways to go about color analysis: You can pay money and personally go and see a learned person to go through the process and see for yourself with your own eyes exactly what colors do for you, and what they don't do, OR you can spend a year and a half taking selfies, stressing about white balance, and basically deluding yourself about one season or another.
Obviously I chose the second method.
As I kept up with that, spending money on makeup that flat out looked horrible, even though I refused to see that, other people in my circle were going to see sometime to get professionally draped, you know-- the right way. And people who I would have thought for sure we're True Autumn or Bright Spring for instance, were falling into completely different seasons, and loving how simply following the science behind it could boost their self esteem, and literally made them look like super models.
Eventually I had to come to terms with the fact that when I wore lipstick that I felt fabulous in, people at work would say, "Oh-- you are wearing lipstick today!" In the Sci/Art color analysis world that rightly translates to, "Honey, that is not the right colour for you."
This is where I describe the draping process: basically you visit your friendly neighborhood PCA analysis (In my case it was Cate Linden from http://www.catelinden.com/), and she takes you into a hidden chamber with a magic mirror, and lots of very specifically shaded fabric. The hidden chamber is painted a specifically neutral gray, and you are covered (and so is Cate) in a specifically neutral gray. The mirror and your face is lit with specifically neutral soft light. Then magic happens as your analysis tirelessly drapes you with color after color, with specific hues, and you watch what it does to your face. It is a journey, and you, nor your analyst have never stared at your face so much. The starring goes on for hours.
I read once about a study where they discovered a way to fall in love-- specifically by looking into each other's eyes, while saying nothing for a significant time. Cate Linden should feel pretty well in love with me now, and I-- her.
In my previous method of selfies, I discovered I was a cool season. I looked fantastic in pinks as long as they weren't too bright, and colors looked great on me.
In front of the magic mirror, all my favorite colors made me look dead. It was a little heartbreaking to say things like, "I want that pink to be best, but obviously the awfully poop orange is." I'm coming to terms a lot with this. My season ended up being True Autumn, a season I officially had declared that I would quit color entirety if I were it. The fact is now, obviously, is I can't unsee what I have seen. I even know what the absence of color does to the way I look. And also, I think every known scrub color was in those drapes, and baby I don't stand a chance in those hospital fluorescents.
Since I started this journey, I have been looking at colors so differently, and now my mind is blown.
One of the few people on the planet who refuses to wear black workout attire, who is desperately in search of tan and burnt orange to wear to the gym. The girl who will never wear pink again.