The exterior of my house needs to be painted. It’s not that the paint is chipping and pealing and overall hideous, but rather in need of a little face-lift. My house is, after all, 250 years old… and it deserves tender loving care.
This brings me to a conversation I recently had with an acquaintance; and by “acquaintance,” I mean someone I know, but whom I do not consider a friend. I rather innocently said that I was going to paint my house yellow. The reaction of this person was, “YELLOW? YELLOW? That’s GROSS.”
Yes, 2 “YELLOWS?”
I was surprised, to say the least, at the reaction to the color yellow. I happen to love the color yellow. This is not to say that I will choose lemon yellow or canary yellow… I am thinking a nice historic yellow, with bright white trim and black shutters and doors. I have seen this combination in homes all over New England, and I always feel happy and wonderful and warm when I see it.
But further, and even more disturbing, was the reaction of this acquaintance to a personal choice regarding my home. My haven. My castle. My world.
I said something like, “I have always loved the combination, and… and…” I really did not know what to say.
But she did. She went on and on about subdued colors like grays and beiges and tans, and even recommended colors like red and pink and purple for my shutters and doors. OK. I truly love each of these colors, too, and I even love the combinations of such… but THIS IS MY HOME AND MY COLOR CHOICE.
Have you ever experienced someone as bold as this? As opinionated? How should I have responded?