My love of colour has to stem from somewhere… and when I look back, it is blatantly obvious!
Asha the Label dress | Headscarf from China | Zara slides | Quay Kandygram sunglasses | Vintage bag
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I will spare you the ‘I grew up dancing’ story again. I feel I will be flogging a dead horse there. Plus, while I do hold dancing accountable for my love of sparkles, hatred of bikini briefs, and need to wear headpieces/neck ties, I don’t actually believe that my love of colour stems from there. That love comes from somewhere else.
Being born to a Mauritian mother and an Italian father, there are certain qualities that are intrinsic to me. I am loud, I am teeny tiny, I have olive skin, I love wine and I live for the humidity (yes, I really do!). My love of colour is also inherent. For as long as I can remember, my nonna had colourful glass beads around her neck (that, for as long as I can remember, I have oggled at) and wore bright blue dresses with a red apron over top. As an Italian, colour has just always been a part of her Italian style. She never questioned it as she had never known any different. She loves colour and she proudly displays it.
I was always exposed to the brightest of colours and the funnest of prints through my family.
As a child, I was always dressed in bright colours and fun prints. My grande tante took great pleasure in crafting me little ‘ra-ra’ sets as a child, complete with ‘tutti frutti’ patterns (think Louis Vuitton lemon print only more fruit salad like!). To this day, family friends still refer to me as ‘tutti frutti’ in reference to those little two pieces! My mum stocked my wardrobe with floral leggings, faux fur leopard print jackets, multi coloured sequin ballet flats, and the brightest pink swimsuits, almost in an attempt to make up for what she missed out on as a little girl. I got the full dose of colour, frills and patterns because my mum, the youngest of seven, wasn’t necessarily given that privilege. I was always being dressed in bright, printed things because that was what my family loved to see me in.
My dad was always experimenting with colour too, only not in relation to fashion. He was an old-school sign writer who took great pleasure in hand painting beautiful, colourful signs for businesses around the south west. Living with an artist who appreciates colour also left it’s impression on me. I remember being so excited about spending the day with dad at work, just so I could go through all of his different tins of paint and find my favourite colours. Oh the little things!