Oh how easy it is to decry pink, to label it as childish, immature, unintelligent. To push it into a
Oh how easy it is to decry pink, to label it as childish, immature, unintelligent. To push it into a grey corner with a snide derision, to stick to your reds and purples, or, for those more conservative among you, your pale, tertiary pastels. Now, I wouldn’t wear pink myself, because clearly that’s not the kind of man I am. I have neither the inclination, nor the somewhat confusing urge to beat my chest and declare what a man I am because I wear pink. Surely the confident thing to do is to neither actively avoid or actively partake in a colour you don’t particularly have any strong feelings towards wearing? I digress. On a submissive woman, though, I can’t think of something I like more than the varying shades of pink. If there ever was a colour that was resolutely submissive, then it was pink. Acquiescing to the stronger reds, the pure whites, it’s between, supplicant to both. Soft, utterly feminine, and just… lovely. I think that’s it. It’s lovely. Completely, resolutely. Perhaps that’s what polarises people so. They need a bit of sophistication to their niceness, or some edge to their pleasant nature. But with pink, it’s just… that. Just lovely. Nothing more, nothing less. -- source link
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