A new pink sensation for this New York power girl
Back in my college days, every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday I had a ritual. I would do what the so-called BPs (beautiful People) did on college nights. I would get all glammed up, put on my clunky high heels and hit up the on-campus nightclub. My friends and I would never go into town. We would venture a few feet outside of our campus gates to go to what was ostensibly the college bar but that was about it. When we would head to our campus nightclub, we did the same thing week after week. We would go and line up and wait and wait to be let downstairs. It was the scene where one went to be seen. Thus of course, we had to look “glamorous.”
Back then smoking was allowed in the club. We, thus, would wait in our pretty clothes so that we could then head down and complain about the bad music and the smoky air. When we eventually made our way back to our dorm rooms we reeked of smoke and our noses were filled with black snot. Sorry to be so explicit. Such a sight was not so glamorous after all.
In dressing up for our grand smoke-filled adventure, we did what was considered fashionable. We dressed from head to toe black. Occasionally, my tights were a non-black color in order to have a nice accent piece. You know- like that raspberry colored accent chair in your living room. Anyway, black is always fashionable in New York. The old joke is that if there was a darker color, New Yorkers would be wearing it.
Let’s be real, though. It makes sense to wear black in New York. Black hides the food stains from eating while walking. Black hides the car splashes quite well. Black looks good on the diverse ethnic groups in New York. But most importantly of all, black is slimming, elegant and chic; with an emphasis on the slimming part. Numerous fashion designers have extolled the virtues of black clothing. Coco Chanel said once “…black has it all. Its beauty is absolute. It is the perfect harmony.” In my closet I must have about ten black dresses and 35 pairs of black shoes including platforms and stilettos.
In the past five years, however, I have developed quite a fondness for some non-black colors. In particular, I love the pink-fuchsia-purple continuum. I love, and don’t get mad at me using this word, I love being a girlie-girl with a New York edge. I have pink Betsy Johnson goth bags. I have purple Calvin Klein dresses. I have fuchsia-colored flowing blouses. In my work force circles, not many dare to bare the pink. Consequently, I stand out. And not in a bad way. Pink looks great on a staged-spotlight. Its luminescent and radiates out to the audience. In DC, and politics in general, women tend the wear the red power suit. To be powerful, women need not have to wear red. I would like to argue for the power of pink. It is disarming, charming and you can roar above the red suits.
My new pink sensation coincided with my new-found voice and being a bold advocate for those whose voices have been muted due to stigmatization. I wear the pink, I rock the mike.
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