I work at a university. I have several student employees. They are fabulous — smart, technologically quick, funny, and all around great people. I’m glad I have the opportunity to get to know them and to have them as employees.
The other morning when I came to work, one of them, one of them looked like he had just thrown up. His face was pasty green. I wanted to ask him how he felt. Was he feverish, nauseated, lightheaded? I wanted to tell him to go lie down. I was about ready to suggest he go home since he looked so sick.
Then he laughed at something another co-worker said. As I watched him, I realized he was not sick. He was just wearing the wrong color. He had on a light sage green shirt. That color looked horrid on him and made him look sick.
Years and years ago when it was the ‘in’ thing to have your ‘colors’ done, my sister had a lady ‘do’ her colors. The lady determined that my sister was a ‘winter’ in coloring. This lady was just starting out and wasn’t very experienced so she didn’t charge my sister any money for the consultation.
My sister thought that she was an ‘autumn’ and not a winter. So, later, she paid good money to another lady to have her colors done. She reasoned that this lady was more experienced and knew more what she was doing. That lady, too, told my sister that she was a winter.
My sister was disgruntled. She wanted to know the colors of her sisters and her mother. She asked us if we wanted to have our colors done.
I was (and still am) a rather skeptical person. I thought the ‘colors’ thing was a bunch of hooey. My sister wheedled. She begged. She cajoled. She said she would pay for it so I didn’t have to pay for it. I acquiesced.
The lady said that my mother, all of my sisters, and I were winters. My older sister was dumbfounded. She finally accepted that she was a ‘winter’ in her coloring.
Being the skeptical person that I am, I didn’t have much faith in what the lady told us. Until she placed swatches of different colors under my face and I actually saw the effects of the different colors on my face.
I had worn a beige blouse that day and the first thing that the lady asked me was if I was recovering from Hepatitis. When she told me I should avoid wearing beige colors, I totally accepted it because I saw how it made me look jaundice. White was a much, much better color for me to wear.
My student employee probably never had his colors ‘done.’ Boys generally aren’t into that kind of stuff. But he does need someone to tell him that he looks awful in that shade of green. (Maybe when he gets married, his wife can clue him in.)
A little bit later that day, I saw another student wearing an apple green shirt. He, too looked horrid. Then I saw another student wearing a similar green-colored shirt and looking sickly. Then, I saw a student wearing a white and grass-green striped shirt. Ta da! He looked good in that color!
I began to wonder what was going on with all of the green clothing everybody was wearing. It wasn’t St. Patrick’s Day. Green wasn’t our school color.
It did make me think of a couple of orange blouses that I have in my closet. I love the color orange. I love the style of the blouses. However, I’m really not supposed to wear that color. Now, after seeing all of those students and how awful they looked in green, I’m re-evaluating those blouses and whether or not I should continue to wear them.
Maybe I should donate them to a thrift shop. Then, I wouldn’t be tempted to wear something that would make me look green behind the gills like my student employee . . .
What do you suggest I do, Dear Reader?