I don’t have a single food on my “won’t eat” list. I maintain that if I didn’t like a dish or ingredient, it’s probably because I haven’t had the right one yet. Someone, somewhere knows how to balance a texture or offset a flavor in such a perfect way that I’ll enjoy it. I feel similarly about most colors.
There isn’t a color that I don’t really like. I think I could like any color — in a certain setting, on a certain object, or in a certain palette.
Yellow is that way for me. I definitely don’t wear it. I don’t think I’ve ever used it in my home. I’ve picked tones for designs — carefully and sparingly.
And yellow always grabs my eye. I love a pop of summery yellow among mossy, natural greens. I appreciate a neon yellow unexpectedly applied to something traditional. I pause over buttery, soft yellows — even when they’re alongside a classic blue.
Yellow is sunshine. Yellow is adventure. Yellow is the drooping heads of buttercups in the overgrown grass.
And my son’s favorite color is yellow. He says it’s because Baby Shark and diggers are yellow.
He points out all the yellow things.
I smile because he is yellow — from his curly blond hair, to his garish clothing choices, to his sunny smile.
I look for all those perfect yellows.
