My Colour Story Part Five- Dark Winter

My Colour Story

Part Five - Dark Winter

In the previous part, I got draped as a Light Summer. I did my hardest to make it work, but deep down it felt wrong, and I couldn’t do it. Here is what happened next.

I can’t tell you how often I came home at the end of the day, and walked straight to the mirror to see how I looked. Were my Light Summer colours working? I just couldn’t tell. I looked fairly normal, and indeed better than I’d done wearing all those soft colours from Soft Summer and Soft Autumn.

I knew I was getting mostly in my own way and tried hard to get over it. I almost got to a point where I was happy with the palette. And then I just couldn’t do it anymore.

In hindsight, I didn’t trust my gut enough. The resistance that showed up when the first confusion ebbed away, had truth in it. But in the end, my staring at the mirror paid off. I learned to see colour reactions.

Finally, I could see that Light Summer did have its merits, but that there were also some downsides. I looked a little flat, lacking depth. Maybe even a bit puffy because there were no shadows to emphasize my bone structure. And my eyes were a little heavy and dark compared to everything else. Maybe this wasn’t what colour harmony was supposed to look like, after all?

Only the three Winters left. Which one?

To my utter relief, I finally dared to break my self-imposed discipline and admit that light Summer was just not it for me.

But what did that mean? The Warm Seasons were out, I was 100% sure. With Light Summer off the table, I’d gone through each of the Summer Seasons. Only the three Winters were left. Which one?

True Winter, I decided illogically, was probably out. I’d hoped for it before (see previous blogs) and got landed with a Light Season for all my trouble. Bright Winter was unlikely, I’d known if I could wear brighter colour, plus my eyes had a lot of grey in them. So Dark Winter maybe? A blonde Dark Winter would be a stretch for sure, but who knew?

I knew from previous experience that there was very little point in holding towels and bed sheets under my face, trying on my mom’s clothes, and putting on the deeper makeup colours that were still in my drawer because I’d never had the heart to throw them out. Even so, I did do all of those things. 

Once again, I needed a colour analysis – and get it right this time. 

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