MY COLOR STORY: PART 2
A salon visit, an unexpected critique, and a moment of mortification… but sometimes, setbacks are the start of something greater.
Eager to experiment with seasonal colors after reading Color Me Beautiful, I bought a few tops I believed matched my season. Although I followed the book's guidelines based on the shades of my hair, skin, and eyes, none felt flattering. Instead of giving me a healthy glow, the options made me appear washed out. Frustration took over—Perhaps this seasonal thing wasn't as great as I imagined.
Around the same time, I switched to a new hairstylist. Four color wheels on the salon's lobby wall caught my eye during my first appointment. The salon owner offered color analysis services, but the price was far beyond my budget as a young mom of two and a recent college graduate.
The salon owner, however, was happy to chat after I mentioned borrowing Color Me Beautiful from the library and being disappointed by my results, which identified me as a Summer. She gave me a knowing glance and said, "Well, no wonder you're unhappy—you've dyed your hair red! Red clashes with the Summer palette. You need a hair color from your season!"
Embarrassment, mortified by the entire salon's stare, set in as my face flushed the same hue as my hair. All I wanted was to disappear. I couldn't bring myself to return for a second appointment.
But you know what? My awkward experience didn't stop me. Instead, it pushed me to dig deeper and figure things out. Realizing the search went beyond finding my season, it became a path of self-discovery. What seemed like a failure at the time was a pivotal moment, igniting my determination to uncover the secrets of color harmony and personal style.
Later in the fall, I taught a sewing and design course at Michaels Crafts. To kick off the new classes, all the instructors participated in a lively fair where we set up tables to promote our classes, display samples, and answer questions. The room buzzed with energy and excitement all day.
My table happened to be next to a woman teaching painting classes. During quieter moments between visitors, we struck up a conversation. Sharing the salon fiasco—the moment the owner insisted my hair color didn't suit my supposed Summer season—revealed the ongoing struggle to determine which colors flattered me.
She smiled and complimented me: "If your red hair color isn't natural, I cannot tell. It is fabulous on you, as are the colors you're wearing. I'd bet you're an Autumn."
Her words resonated, explaining my innate attraction to fall colors and how they suited me best when I looked in the mirror. However, Color Me Beautiful categorized me as a Summer due to my dishwater blonde locks and bright aqua-blue eyes, which didn't match the typical Autumn traits. My mismatch made me question whether I misunderstood the guidelines or didn't fit into any category.
Then, she shared something unexpected. Dressed head-to-toe in black with a sleek black mane, she said, "I'm an Autumn too." My surprise was impossible to hide—her outfit and hairstyle lacked the warm, earthy tones associated with Autumn.
She explained her choice: "Years ago, I stopped wearing warm, muted colors because people kept approaching me. Autumns naturally project warmth, and strangers would ask me for directions or start conversations. As an introvert, I needed space, so I switched to black."
Her story sparked a new confidence in me —a bold reminder of how personal color shapes appearance and presence. Fall's earthy scheme didn't just suit me—these hues energized me.
My reflection confirmed what I had long suspected: On the right track, it was clear that seasonal color wasn't about fitting into a category but embracing the hues woven into my DNA—the ones that felt undeniably me. And that realization was freeing.
My conversation with the artist left me laughing and lighter—it was such a refreshing and validating moment.
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