Peach

“Peach is a spring color.” 

The pronouncement, without doubt, came from a rather frumpy, round-faced saleswoman behind a cluttered counter.  I was tempted to ask her, like on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, “Final answer?”

I felt my shoulders tighten.  Peach is a warm color; a happy color; a soft color.  Any season , particularly fall and winter, could use the rouge of peach. 

She didn’t have a friendly look.  Rather, her eyes, openly combative and judgemental behind large black rimmed eyeglasses,  informed me that she was tired, had been on her feet for at least six hours that day, and was not in the mood for dumb questions.  Something about the way her eyebrows scrunched together disturbed me.

This was my eighth store.  I kid you not.  I had been searching almost all day for a peach colored sweater to wear in a photo the next day.  I was exhausted, hungry and had been circling sweaters in every store like a chicken hawk.

I LOVE peach: peach melba, peach pie, peach cobbler; then there’s peach body oil and bath soap.  But as it stood, any of those items would have been easier to find then a warm, soft peach sweater.

“Gosh, I really wanted peach,”  I began, and quickly dropped the rest of the sentence…something about those eyebrows.  I was holding a lemon-yellow blouse that was on sale.  I wanted it.  I loved it. 

“That’s a good price, under $10 dollars.”  She made an attempt at a smile.  Weird.

“Yellow,” she continued, looking at me as if I had no home training.  “It won’t be long before spring.” 

Right.  It’s the end of October.

I replied cheerfully, “When I wear it, it will be spring tomorrow!”

Silence.  A stare.  Awkward.  Something about  the eyebrows…

“There must be something peach colored.  A blouse, a top?” I asked with frustration.  “I’ve been to sooo many stores”

“Peach is a spring color.  We won’t have it until spring” 

Who makes these rules, anyway? 

I would have looked more normal to her if I had been spewing pomegranate seeds from my nose.  But, I, pity the fool, had forgotten the rules:  no whites after Labor Day and darker colors until spring.  I’m guessing it’s an eastern thing.  

Clutching my yellow blouse (victory!), I settled on a soft chartreuse jacket that would be warm and flattering for my photo the next day. 

I’m already planning next summer’s shopping spree when I’ll be buying every peach-colored item I see to alleviate future winter misery.  Ahh… It’s a challenge to live in the present moment. 

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One response to “Peach

  1. This sounds like you. I love it! And it is funny, immediate, and thoughtful. Thanks! (I was so glad when you mentioned the yellow blouse).

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