On pale colours (series: notes to myself)

Pale colours are the hues of discrete affluence. Often green or brown, sometimes blue, less frequently red, all deeply tinted with white, greyshed and matted, they speak of detached lives and tastefully expensive houses.

They match the oaky, automatic gate; the spacious, walled gardens; the grass, carefully mowed by invisible others; the roses, hobbily attended by the well-mannered owners; the expensive, conscientious electric cars in the courtyard; the old carpets to warm the creamy, stony floors; the terracotta in the spacious kitchen; the solid, timbered ceilings; the wooden doors;  the immaculate linen; the bathrooms' ivory basins.

Pale colours are quiet and unobstructive. They wish to be old, like unembarrassing money. Even when recently painted, they pretend to have been washed by centuries of tradition, smoothed by classic virtues and family reunions. They are meant to smell like musky wealth that does not age but accrues, of private schools for the children, of Oxbridge sports, of a library with forgotten ex libris, of old and silveryframed pictures next to the accomplished piano, of graphite fireplaces that never stopped working, of waxed furniture inherited with the crystal glasses and the silver spoons, of ancestors' pearls and watches, of paintings whose collectors have been forgotten. 

Pale colours bridge generations. They want to be educated not merely acculturated, refined not sophisticated, stylish not fashionable. They are soft and unchanging, smoothed to hide the corrosion of time, polished to pretend never to be eroded. They whisper stories of continuity, solidity, stability, permanence. 

And as I walk, and I see them around me, I know they are just a layer of discreteness on the indecent caducity of the objects they cover, a grey and pudic veil that seeks to hide the world from violent loudness and aggressive change.

I cannot help it. I like them. But I know I should cover my eyes like Odysseus his ears, because they are lying.

PS "Notes to myself" is available as a book on Amazon: ow.ly/sGyh50KfRra