What is it, about the colour red?
Is it its extremity? For there it sits shouting on a wall at the far end of the wavelengths which can be seen by the human eye, at 630-740 nanometres. It is brash, it is broad, it is beautiful.
And it is bold, in the Irish sense.
Naughty, in fact.
I grew up being taught by nuns. The more streetwise of them adopted English speak for managing their pupils, but some did not see the need to drop the expressions with which they had been raised. There were always boys in the class who could incite the religious to slang.
“Ah, Dillon, you’re a bold boy, sure!” they would exclaim, rolling their eyes and exuding censure. The bold boys were generally delighted to have been labelled thus. Their audience of peers, likewise.
The phrase lives on in my memory, and always in an Irish accent.
Red’s a bold colour, sure. Put it on and it can acquire a life of its own. Lipstick particularly. And a dress.
I needed a new coat. It is fortunate, then, that I live in one of the great centres of affluence of my country; and that the Berkshire and Hampshire ladies who lunch still manage, in the teeth of a recession, to switch their designer wardrobes each season.
They take the Jag down to the village with a boot full of Last Season, and drop it off at what we in the UK term the Charity Shop. Thrift Store, or what you will.
Maddie and I set out looking for winter coats. Something muted, that we could team with a whole wardrobe. We made a beeline for a charity shop in one of the most select villages in the commuter belt.
There, on the rack, my coat was waiting for me. No muted black tailored number this, but a bright red velveteen shout in the midst of browns and greys.
Ever since, I have worn it everywhere. It is not a garment which will blend in, but then I’m not a person who blends in either; so we make an excellent partnership. It is an exuberant dash of a garment with a very creditable label, and it has become as much a part of me, these last weeks, as my shadow.
Last year the snows came early, and the country became white and colourless. But as I roamed about with my camera it was startling how many gashes of scarlet blent the snow. Our post boxes here are scarlet; so many shrubs are decorated in red berries.
Red refuses to be subdued by our seasons and our landscape. It will out.
And this evening I read of another time, long ago, when red really was a gash. It was a sign of an amputation so absolute it would never be repealed: the removal of the monarchy from the body of the French people.
The account is another from the extraordinary collection of eye-witness accounts I stumbled upon recently. You can find a copy here.
It is an excerpt from Richard Twiss’s A Trip To Paris, July-August 1792. So many of us know about life in the turmoil of the French Revolution which began in 1789:this is a snapshot of the heart of France with the clarity of detail that might arise from a newspaper report.
As Twiss travels from the port of Calais to Paris, every town has a tall tree planted in its market place, often a poplar. The leaves, he says, are invariably withered, and the trees look dismal.
On top of the tree, in every case, is a red woollen or cotton night cap. It is called the Cap Of Liberty, and often red, white and blue streamers have been tied about the pole.
The sad trees are not the only beneficiaries of the red cap,it seems. While Cromwell,years before, had destroyed statues of saints and holy men, Robespierre’s men put small red caps on them. It this belittlement with style, the Gallic epitome of the sardonic comment?
Red is not the only change. Precious few go to church, but commissaries use the church to host conscription, and outside the iron railings have been removed to make pikes. There is hardly anything at Versailles except the bare walls, Twiss says. The Censorship of books seems oddly non-existent so that there is a huge market for books with plates which are simply porn, sold on stalls in the market places.
The common people are better clothed, now, though. Where three years ago the women wore silver ornaments,now they wear gold.
Bold red, defiant red, red of the long wavelength, broad red. Red to tempt a bull, red to draw glances, red to topple a regime.
This colour, of all colours, attracts attention.
Kolkhoz time: You simply must go and see Dena and her amazing post about changing the way we think; Angie Mizzell has posted the pre-Christmas post to end all pre-Christmas posts: how to spread a love which conquers all. Read her here. Finally one of my firm favourites, The Quotidian Hudson, pauses life on the river for just a moment to take a look at a riverside critter.
Kate Shrewsday 
When Spurs Fan and I got married, I was divorced and had recently discovered that I was 4 months pregnant. I was excited and anxious and full of beans. I waddled aound the registry office and hotel in a long, red, immensely unsubtle, creation. A good friend did wonder if I was taking the ‘scarlet woman’ analogy a bit far? 😉
You know what I think, Fiona. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. It sounds perfect. All my Indian friends got hitched in the most stunning scarlet. If I were to get married over again, I’d choose it above white any day.
I adore red (don’t tell my Sky Blue boys); it is cheerful and vibrant. When will we see the coat?
I’ll take a piccy and post if on that new fan page of mine, Tilly. I knew there must be a use for these strange cyberspaces: the perfect virtual runway for my charity shop finds.
Re: part the first: ‘Two things’ –
Thing one: in Australia they call charity shops ‘op shops’ as in ‘opportunity’ – which I like very much!
Thing two: I too have a coat bought in a charity shop which served me well in the coldest snowy condition last winter – a huge faux sheepskin to the knee coat, for £12! Too big for me really, but that made space for lots of jumpers.
oh, and thing three: red shoes – gotta have a pair of red shoes.
http://pseu1.wordpress.com/2011/07/20/todays-observation/
Those shoes are beautiful, Pseu: full of adventure. I blogged a long time ago about the power a pair of red shoes might have- as Moira Shearer found out in the film of the same name….opportunity shops. Wonderful concept: round there, that’s just what they are.
Red is my very favorite color. To me, it says “happy.” Well done on the coat. In my town, it likely would’ve ended up in a consignment shop for a steeper price.
You’re right, it is happy, Andra: it’s a party colour! Perfect for the Christmas season 🙂
Wonderful!
I’ve had red coats and wish I had one now. We, too, have charity shops, sometimes called consignment shops, sometimes second hand – all treasure troves. That dash of red in a scarf, sweater, shawl (I have a favorite red shawl, of course) is always so chic, isn’t it?, but a red coat. Ah, nothing is finer in the midst of white snow. We’ve only the red fox to look to for inspiration.
And Foxy is unsurpassed in his splendour, even by the most beautiful coat, Penny 🙂 Now we just need some snow to show off the red…
Red – a Bolshevik color
Indeed, comrade 🙂
I love the color red! In high school I was able to choose my own bedroom wallpaper and I chose a heavily flocked bright red paper. I still smile thinking how that must have pained my mother, but she let it go! It then became my signature color for awhile. I am sure your coat highlights your originality. I wouldn’t think you blend in, Kate. You have a rare spirit and I so enjoy “drafting” some of your creative energy! Fascinating about the Cap of Liberty. I’ve never heard that before, but I’m curious to know more. So thank you! Debra
Thank you, Debra 🙂 The writing by Twiss makes a great read.
I have a beautiful red dress hanging in my closet and you just gave me the sudden urge to wear it!
The sooner the better, Belle!
I had a bright red below-the-knee winter wool coat that I wore to ward off the winter chill, especially when not dressed in pants and boots.
Loved this:
It is not a garment which will blend in, but then I’m not a person who blends in either; so we make an excellent partnership. It is an exuberant dash of a garment with a very creditable label, and it has become as much a part of me, these last weeks, as my shadow.
What a coup! There’s nothing like a little gem found in the Charity/Thrift Shop to lift one’s spirit. I have a couple of warm “long coats” that make me feel blessed every time I put them on. I’m sitting here wearing my bit of red…a warm and comfy vest I found in “Le Boutique Pour Les Prudent.”
Ah, I know that boutique very well indeed, Amy 😀 Coats can make us feel blessed, can’t they ? Over here it has just begun to snow. Never has a snug coat seemed more important.
I expect you are wearing your lovely red coat tonight whilst seeing Maddie in action. I wish I could wear red, but it is just not right for me, a red scarf is my limit. My school uniform had a scarlet blazer which I loved.
I did wear it, Rosemary, and felt suitably posh. A scarlet blazer: I feel sure everyone always recognised the pupils of your school!
I once had a pair of long red boots and a red leather bomber jacket… those were the days!
Oooh, extrovert, Earlybird! Bet you looked fabulous.
I have one too, and a vast collection of red hooker-shoes 😉
Vintage, Kate, in both style and writing – fabulous
Thanks, BB 😉
I too am an up-market charity shop fan. Jeez I’d never spend the sort of money that NEW stuff demands! Ah, designer labels…
They are sweetest when they only cost £4.50, Tooty 😀
Something that always sticks in my mind is the little girl wearing a red coat in “Schindler’s List”, against the backdrop of all the mayhem clearly seen in black and white.