There is no doubt that a handful of colours have certain nondetachable feelings associated them, and one in particular is without argument feminine.

Photo credit: stutefish

For the first few years at primary school (at my one anyway), we had these book bags which hung around the back of our chair. It was where we stored our books, and pens, but also allowed quick and easy transportation of school-gear to-and-from our school bags.

I had just turned five, just started to get addicted to LEGO, and it was my first week at school. Within that first week, I was taken into a room at the back of the classrooms. No I wasn’t in trouble, nor was I to be beaten to death; it was to choose my very own book bag!

I have always hated big choices without much thought – I have a strong feeling it all stemmed from this one event, very early on in my life. In that room, there were about 8 different bag colours, and I was told to pick one. So. Many. Awesome. Colours. I needed to consult my inner designer-self on this one. Instead I was pushed for an answer. This was going to identify who I was for the next two years (to the people in my class anyway), and at that time, I never knew the ideas and feelings attached to the colour I chose. I thought it looked good. I chose pink.

That has got to be one of the worst mistakes in my life. If only I knew that pink was girly.

Which raises a question I have had for some time — Is the taste of colour inherited from the things and people around us, or it a universal taste we all grow to acquire?

As an ending note, I have since adopted the tastes of boys around me, and no longer have a love for pink things.