I tend to forget all about pink. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that it often seems like too obvious a choice or just one with too much baggage. Girls are supposed to like it and so I over-think it and avoid it. Lately I’ve have had a couple of little reminders that have woken me up to the potential of pink all over again.
It’s peony season and I know for sure that these are my absolute favourite flower. Deep pink or the gentle pale variety, I don’t mind. I’ve been greedy and have two vases of them in my living room right now. The season is so short I have to get my fill.
Last week I sat in a friend’s stunning living room and started to think about what made it so lovely and inviting. The walls were papered in a bold Toile de jouy print (pink line illustrations on a rich cream) and the heart-stopping feature of the room was a French-style armoire. It had no doors just open shelves housing a gorgeous collection of lustreware plates and cake stands.
Apart from my peonies, I just wouldn’t think of pink for my living room. It seems like a dreamy bedroom kind of colour but I really want to rethink (not over-think) this having loved the atmosphere my friend has created. I’ve started small by rooting out an old treasure. This wonderful lustreware plate was made by another friend many years ago. It was actually featured in a magazine and I was thrilled when he let me be its custodian. Sadly it had sunk into a neglected spot at the back of a bookshelf but now I’m prompted to bring it out and find somewhere special for it to reside. I have high hopes for the power of pink.