Being a woman

   I work with color analysis. My blog is a color analysis blog, and I write about chromatic categories, about seasons, I introduce women in their best colors, and talk about their coloring, but that's not all.    We each belong to a certain season, and somehow we reflect its characteristics, its dominant traits. Just like princesses, daughters of a Queen, every woman has in her chromatic DNA certain “manners” of the Queen Mother, the season we belong to. Summer refinement, Autumn’s sensuality, Spring’s sparkling impertinence or maybe the Winter’s majesty. These are ways of being and strong personality traits that belong to our most inner self and which become visible at their full potential only when we wear OUR COLORS, when we know and fully accept our palette, with everything that these colors involve at an emotional and communicative level… But tonight I won’t write about color analysis or seasons. 
 I will write about a person, a woman, but not about her season or her analysis, no. I don’t even know it. I look and re look at her photos, I smile, I admire them and I for a short moment I feel the bite of something that I immediately chase away, a bite of envy, no no, it must have been an illusion… Se is a virtual friend of mine, I knew her online, we met on a color analysis site, both of us desperately painfully trying to find our season, as if it was the quest of a part of ourselves, almost a definition of us, an arduous question who’s answer we wanted but feared at the same time: “What is my season? Who am I Then I finally got my answer. But I stubbornly longly searched for it, unceasingly and without resignation. I HAD TO KNOW IT. I didn’t accept it right away I tried hardly to be another season, the one I would have loved to be, or I least I thought I would wanted to be, I denied it for a year and a half, but in the end I finally accepted and learned to love my season. My friend hasn’t found it, not yet. 
Let me introduce you to Eleonora: 

 A stunning smile, a refined yet so intense face. A beauty without a doubt. But oh so chameleonic. She seems to look good in everything, she seem to be able to be the season she wants to when she wants to. I truly believe that, deep inside, she wouldn’t like to be forced to know her chromatic home. Eleonora is a lady who deeply loves her freedom, the possibility to be whatever she wants, to impersonate and express emotions through colors but without the constriction of an awareness…for her the awareness of a season would quickly become a suffocating prison. Because Eli encloses in her soul a multitude of emotions, so many nuances of being a woman, nuances that make her chameleonic, intriguing… she could be any season She could seem a Dark Winter: 

 The obscurity of the deep December evenings it's all there, in her eyes, which in black and with a dark red lipstick, shine with an aggressive intensity. Then, while you think she couldn’t be another season but a DW, who reflects all the dark intense femininity of this winter type, Eli, already tired of all this sobriety, dresses in a dazzling smile and bright colors and there she is, ready to bestow a hint of Spring’s luminosity to everyone:

 She passed from the royal purple and pitch black to the springish light sparkling look, with no effort…with the lightness of a ethereal morning breeze, playful and carefree. But, just like a breeze she won’t stay long in this role….Eli is just as beautiful as she is mutable, as if she were scared to commit to herself, to be forced to stay in a “cage” made of few colors, too little for her emotional richness, for her dramatic inner conflicts. That is why I am not surprised when, just a moment after I see her, smiling and looking almost vulnerable in a Summer’s purplish pink. 

 She is able to seduce Summer too. Who, for her sake, abandons any reserves and shyness, and it seems to surrender to all the naturalness of such a feminine smile. And it is instant love. Love made of cerulean blue, of the green of the summer lakes, of the cool refined pink shade of the aqua rose. But it is only an affair. I already know that this is only a game for her, the pleasure of the hunt. And thinking of this, I feel a little sorry for the imminent bitter burning pain Summer will feel…after all, it embraced her in spite of its diffidence. Summer will cry tears of teeming rain, it will thunder its desperation and disappointment… then, in the end, it will smile with sky blue serenity to HER memory… SHE who has passed by for a short moment, left the indelible trace of her passion, her smile… As for her, she will hardly recall this game of hers … she is not doing it on purpose. The game, the hunt, the emotion of a discovery, abandoned a minute after just to pass to a new search, the quest of something, that certain “something” that could make her feel the excitement or give her comfort…. Because if she doesn’t have these, she becomes restless. And she consumes all her anxiety with automatic gestures and with whirls of smoke and thoughts. 

 And maybe…for a moment she resigns to the rest, to stability…just maybe… 

 Maybe..maybe her shadows and lights are ice crystals and naked branches that sting the lead­blue of a wintery sky. Maybe, it wasn’t a chromatic category she was searching, and this thought haunts her sometimes, it compels her to take an introspective look, and puts shadows on her face. 

 But this is only for a brief instant. Because she knows she is not searching for her season, she doesn’t look for a place into a category. After all, she already knows her season, or at least she has a hint of it. The fact is she wants to be everything, she wants to be free to shine with all the facets, she wants to reflect ideas, thoughts and expressions of femininity every single day in a different way, with a different dimension. Knowing for sure her season… would be an emotional prison for her.

 And so the procession of the seasons goes on. To her, seasons are mirrors in which she reflects her emotions and through them she can shout to the whole world who she is that moment. A True Winter, smiling yet so distant and cautious, so royal in it’s brilliant pure ice white that it is only possible to admire from a distance, but she will never allow you to get near her. 

 A Dark Autumn, full of passionate personality, a volcanic character, serious and intense. 

 She will use the innocence of Light Summer’s pink with a disarming nonchalance, if she will ever feel fragile and in need for tenderness:

 She will get on the Bright Winter’s catwalk and she will borrow the vanity of Fuchsia, if one day she wants to act like a diva: 

  But, no matter what season she chooses to embrace, no matter the palette she will love, Eleonora will always shine …. for she is a WOMAN, and she loves what she is. Passionately living her emotions, loving and embracing her femininity, accepting the instability of the moods, the vulnerability, the aggressiveness, the contradictions, the paradox of so many facets and being able to express them with COLORS, without fearing them and never allowing them to influence her too much.

 She is Eleonora. Just someone figured out what the joy of being a woman is. Always be grateful for the extraordinary gift of being WOMEN. 

 Pia