When I look at a colour, I generally have a memory attached to it.
Often there are two memories, maybe more, like for red. But for beautiful, dainty primrose yellow there’s just one and I’m warning you, it ain’t pretty.
I was four years old and I had a little accident at school so I was provided with a ginormous pair of greying, primrose yellow nylon knickers that were so 70s static you could almost see sparks fly. I spent the rest of the day hoiking them up off the floor because the elastic had seen better days.
I’ve not been able to look primrose yellow in the eye since (though I may make an exception for this VW…). Got any embarrassing colour stories? Surely it’s not just me?…
Martha, The Colour File x