This morning I met my son for coffee at 9.30 and noted that everyone in the café was clad in coats and scarves. Many of them were in black, pretty typical of winter-wear here. Plenty of shops have racks of black, suitable for this city of public servants. In fact, in my early years in Canberra I wore black because I thought it was right: black turtle-necks, black overcoats, black skirts and black jeans. Then I realised I was conforming. Now I avoid it.
Here’s my son wearing a grey-black jumper, but the man behind him has a bright yellow jacket on that makes him look like he’d be at home on the sea. He’s the only dab of colour in Sfoglia this morning. (Even the Italian owner is wearing all black, including his beard.) Meanwhile at the table beside us there were several workers on a morning tea break, all in black.
In a Canberra winter, I miss colours.