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You may have noticed I have a slight (cough) preference for the colour red. What you may not realise is that this preference is in fact a more recent phenomenon. I distinctly recall doing Dolly Magazine quizzes in my teens and simply not knowing what may favourite colour was. Imagine that? Not knowing my favourite colour? When red was there, fluttering her eye lashes at me all along.

I cannot recall the moment I realised red was my one true colour but, looking back, believe the love affair may have started with a pair of red shoes. We were dirt poor at the time, having married while still at university and, thanks to an idealistic family planning decision, popped put a baby within the first year. Andrew started work a month before that baby entered the world and with family help we managed to buy an ugly little wooden house on a main road beneath the a massive street light. By the time my twenty-third birthday came around, we’d made a second, can-you-believe-it-was-planned addition to the family. Mum took me shopping for my birthday. I chose a pair of red shoes. I think they were supposed to be ‘for best.’ Fact is, from the moment I unwrapped them, I wore those shoes everywhere. When they finally fell apart, I bought another pair – and another. 

A life long passion for red shoes was born. 

I’m not sure when the red passion crossed over into other items of clothing. I did not wake up one morning and think I am going to wear a touch of red every day. Only that, for some reason, I do. I’m not unadventurous. I do occasionally wear other colours. Only last week, I purchased a jumper without a hint of red in the mix. Okay, so I did break into a cold sweat at the audacity of the purchase and I did lay it out on the armchair once I arrived home wondering whether I should return it and, okay, when I did finally pull the tags off, I teamed it with a cranberry coloured scarf. But the jumper is not red. That’s the point I’m making.

In addition to red clothing, I may also have acquired a few personal accessories. Actually, not just a few, and not purely personal either. I have a red bike, a red yoghurt maker, red-toned cushions on my couch, a red iPad cover, a red phone cover, a red handbag, burgundy towels in the bathroom, a burgundy scatter rug, and red Welsh tapestry place mats on which I place my red candles while journaling in my red leather notebook (okay, so maybe a little over the top). But rest assured I use the contrasting blue/green side of my Welsh tapestry placemats. The candles, I always buy in bulk, from Dusk. Not just any old candles either – spice scented cranberry red candles called, Vienna. 

There is no Dusk outlet on Sydney Road. Andrew says there is a message in that. ‘Like, Dusk is so suburban.’ But I have remained loyal to my suburban roots. On a recent trip out east, I popped into, Eastland to stock up my candle supplies (yes, Eastern dwellers, the new Eastland is amazing, yes, I’ve never seen anything like, no, there isn’t any reason to go to the city). I parked in my usual spot, passed through the Woolworths entrance and made a beeline for the Vienna votive shelf in the Dusk store. 

The candles weren’t there. I glanced left. Right. Circled the store, came back to the Vienna votive shelf. Still not there. There were no pillar candles either. No Vienna at all. 

‘Can I help you?’ I’d been so busy staring at the shelves I didn’t notice the shop assistant coming alongside.

‘I’m looking for the Vienna votives.’ 

I’m afraid they have been discontinued.’

Discontinued, without notice! As if they were nothing but a consumer product.

‘We have a new Vanilla scented candle,’ the assistant added, smiling nervously, ‘if it’s the spicy scent you’re after.’

The Vanilla votive smelled nice. I had to admit. But, it was white. It wouldn’t match my place mats. ‘It isn’t the right colour.’ I told the shop assistant. 

‘Oh, we have red candles too, Signature Love.’

She handed me a sickly candy-red candle. The scent wasn’t right either – all old lady’s sweet rose and lavender. I passed the candle back to her. Things were happening too fast. It was like the Great Colorado Clothing Crisis all over again. On that occasion, I had passed from the age of wearing hip hugging teenage fashions and not being not quite ready to surrender to Millers, and had fallen into the habit buying most of my clothes at one particular clothing outlet. Actually, not most of them. I was pretty much little-miss-Colorado. When Colorado went into receivership. I refused to believe it, kept thinking, hoping, trusting, praying they would return. Until, Eastland boarded up the store front (yes, Eastland has a lot to answer for) and I returned home in white faced shock.

It took me ages to recover from the Great Colorado Crisis. Even now the family are careful not to mention the C word in my hearing, remembering the too-long conversations – on the phone, at dinner, during family gatherings. Items bought and returned. Requests to please-come-and-help-me-choose. But recover, I did. I now buy clothes online, at markets, at funky little artisan stores along Sydney Road. In fact, I hardly ever think about Colorado anymore. Apart from sometimes…late at night. It will be the same with Dusk. I mean, they are just so suburban, right? I’m gonna find me a new handmade hippy candle outlet, that understand loyalty and habits and finding just the right scent and, once I’ve found them, I’ll buy me a life long supply of candles and, as so long as the they are not candy-red, I will never have to shop at Dusk or Eastland, ever again. 

 

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