It's embarrassing, it's regrettable, but it's true -- ask anyone who knew me between 1994 and 2002, and they would all say, without a whit of hesitation, that I had the market cornered when it came to wearing pink anything.
Pink velour track pants? Check.
Pink turtleneck sweater? Check.
Pink strapless cocktail shift? Check.
Pink tie-front bandeau bikini? Check.
Charlotte ringer tees in Easter pink, raspberry pink, electric pink and red-faded-into-Hawaiian-punch pink? Check, check, check aaaand check.
I wore so much pink so often during high school and college that literally, one day shortly after graduation, I woke up, looked at my two-thirds pink wardrobe arranged neatly from dark-to-light in my closet, turned away and said, "No more."
And since then, aside from my Georgetown University entrance ticket (i.e. the super-fitted, baby pink Izod polo), I haven't put a single dollar toward anything remotely resembling the color of fabulosity, according to Kimora Lee Simmons. Not an eyeshadow, not a nail polish, not a lip gloss, not even a pair of for-the-bedroom boyshorts.
After five solid years of living a pink-free lifestyle, I neither missed it nor honestly thought I'd ever wear it again.
But then, out of nowhere, came this:This serene scene of the lovely Katie in a rich berry, thick-knitted coat-dress and catch-your-breath beautiful black Giuseppi Zanotti knee-high stiletto boots carrying a sleeping Suri en route to a flower shop after a taxing two-hour private tour at the Louvre not only affirmed the sentiments I've shared with you in posts like this, this and this but also opened my eyes for the first time in years to the possibility of reintroducing pink to my wardrobe.
Naturally, it would be a different kind of pink. A grown-up pink. The kind of pink a woman would wear not to boldly assert her femininity but rather as an every-now-and-then alternative to classic black that would allow her to feel "brightened up" but still well within the confines of her hallmark prim, elegant aesthetic. I may not have reached Holmesian-level perfection with the rose-hued, funnel-necked, structured-twill trapeze dress I liberated from Zara after work last Friday - the exposed zipper, for example, would not have been my first choice - but considering the perfect fit, the coveted neckline, and of course, its palatable $99 price tag, I'm confident I came as close to her gold standard as a girl on a budget could.
Whether I wear the new frock with my vintage croc-embossed pumps, my rosette-adorned satin peep toes, or, after I finally nail down a good time to take that two-week hiatus to have an egg harvested and earn that easy $25K for which I have only three more years of eligibility, these cognac almond-toed Alta Arielle Talon stiletto boots, I'm confident I'll feel just as sophisticated and sleek in pink as I do every other day in my signature all-black.
So, for the rest of you think-you-hate-pink people out there, I urge you to give this hue another chance. Not a nostalgic throwback-to-the-pep-rally chance, not a frilly feminine chance, but a thoughtful, adult chance. Go for deep mauves, clean and subtle ballets, rich matte magentas or, if you're not ready to take the full leap, at least indulge in a pop-of-pink item like this dress from Milly or this blouse from Harkham.
Before I go, I should also mention that what truly made acquiring this precious-'n'-pink dress so satisfying was that I found it shortly after leaving behind a different one, one I loved so much I actually seriously considered reallocating a quarter month's rent toward its purchase.
Where? At Cusp, of course, where everything - except these - is a wishlist item and nothing aside from Spanx, a few pairs of Sam Edelman flats and the judgmental, "Why should I give you a fitting room if you and I both know you're not going to buy anything?" eyerolls costs less than $295.
Which dress? This sweet, sequined-belted, bubble-hemmed tweed cocktail dress with keyhole back from Vera Wang's Lavender Label collection. Recognize the pleated neckline? Yeah, I did, too. I wanted so badly to give my two sateen-cotton girls a wool sister, but alas, sometimes finances force families to stay small.