One of my fuzzy days and a weird train of thought came to mind. Ì may have mentioned it beefore?Somewhere someone is sitting frantically trying to come up with a new descriptive name for this season’s slightly-adjusted shade of cream paint. It has sold in buckets for a generation in Wilkinsons as good ol’ magnolia, the mainstay of every modern rentaĺ property in England. Everbody knows magnolia means cream paint.
50 Shades of Grey on a paint card has 50 different names from charcoal burner to misty moonlight, just to make us pick up a can of paint because it evokes anice vision with the title. After all we can picture what misty moonlight looks like in nature and know whether itwill be just as effective in the bedroom after sloshing on several litres of the stuff. Except that every one has different colour perception, but Im being pedantic.
If I were to try to send me husband off to Bunnings to buy a can of frangipani glow I would have no chance. Wouldnt happen. Not manly. I might do better to send him off with the sample card boldly titled frangipani glow that he could mutely hand over while looking in another direction. Send him off for cream paint, however I would have a good chance I’ll get back something that looked like cream paint on the lid. I would have Buckley’s chance of him going up to the Bunning counter and asking the guy at the desk for “10 litres of frangipani glow please mate”.
So naming paint has to be a highly sensitive skill requuring a degree in art, plus a Masters in psychology. But hey, lets be sexist and say this is the job for a woman. Well no its not. I am just being silly on a Saturday.
So what colour would frangipani glow be if it does exist? Deep and meañingful breath in. Sighing says:
“I see frangipani glow as that fallen blossom lying on the grass. Not the cream and yellow one, far too common. No, that cream one with the peachy-pink tips, damply glistening under a glassy raindrop or tiny beads of morning dew. Sigh”.
No I dont mean pink.