They Call Me Mellow Yellow

Written by Phara

Your Mirror or Mine

How ironic that this week's topic is a color since I'm an interior decorator. And since I was given the color yellow to write about I can't seem to get Donovan's song Mellow Yellow out of my head. What the heck does that song mean anyway? After doing some research on those song lyrics, I found out the supposed meaning…and that's a whole other type of post for a whole other type of blog. Who knew?

Anyway, I tried to think what the color yellow meant to me. Did I have an ugly dress as a child that was a hideous shade of 70's yellow? Not that I can recall or is documented by a Poloroid…which, unfortunately is not the case for a pair of patchwork bell bottom jeans I once wore. I do remember having a Scwhinn bicycle that had a banana seat…but that wasn't yellow. And I also vaguely remember being called a "yellowbelly" at one point growing up because I run from spiders. Then I thought of buttercream frosting, which I could eat a whole can of. I'm pretty sure there's butter in it according to my thighs…and butter is yellow. But bad memories aside, the only thing I kept coming back to was the actual color yellow and how it makes me feel.

As I sit here typing this, I look around my room at all the various shades of yellow. For me, I'm more of a warm gold shade of yellow gal instead of an in your face lemon shade of yellow gal. The color yellow can evoke feelings of joy and happiness, but at the same time can make people feel frustrated and angry. Babies tend to cry more in yellow rooms. But since it's a warm color, if you paint a north facing room a shade of yellow it will seem warmer (a little Decorating 101 – for those of you getting ready to paint). For me, it's relaxing. When I walk into my house it's like a blanket is wrapped around my shoulders and I instantly feel protected. When it's dreary and cloud filled outside, I still feel like there's some light in the room. And at the end of a long hectic day, I'm calmed by the glow of the color when illuminated by lamps. Everyone is different, and everyone sees color differently, but for me it truly is a mellow yellow.

My Road Finally Traveled

Written by Phara from Your Mirror or Mine

When I was 17 and graduating from high school, my aspiration was to become a designer. I wanted to live in New York City, have long flowing hair, wear too big for my face sunglasses like Jackie O, and attend Parsons School of Design. Here’s how the conversation went with my father.

“Dad, I really want to go to school in New York City and be a designer”, I said.

“New York City”, replied my father. (I think they used him as their voice model for the Pace Picante sauce T.V. ads). “Design isn’t a real major…I’m not paying for that”.

And just like that, I wasn’t going to New York City. Instead I settled on a fine arts university and got a degree in elementary education. Here’s how that conversation transpired.

“This school is expensive. You’re going to graduate in four years, right?”

“Yes dad, four years.”

I kept my promise, got a job as a second grade teacher, and taught for one year. Now teaching is a noble profession, it just wasn’t for me. Next……

I don’t know how I happened upon my next career, but here’s conversation number three.

“Dad, I’m a urology nurse now. I love it and am really good at it.”

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing in that profession?” my dad asked.

“Yeah, probably. Try not to think about it”, I said.

Fast forward twenty years. I am now in my forties. I have two teenage kids, one about to leave for college, and I’m still dreaming about design. I don’t have the long flowing hair, I look like a fly when I wear Jackie O sunglasses, and the occasional excursion from Oklahoma to New York City is enough for this girl. So, what was the next logical step? Here’s the last conversation about my profession with my father.

“Dad, I’ve quit nursing and gotten my certificate in design”.

“You’re really good at decorating, huh?”

“Yeah, dad, I am”.

“Guess you should have gone to school and done that in the first place”.

Sigh……