I wore a red coat today. A long one that falls below my knees. I was amazed at the women who gave me compliments, hinged with surprise: oh what a beautiful color! how striking against the white snow. Had I discovered a new color? Or was their astonishment felt from finding beauty in my sartorial brazenness? What's the big deal anyhow?
Now, I know this much: Red is not a puritanical hue. It was indeed the poisoned red apple that put Snow White to sleep. And her voluptuous red lips that ate it. Oh sinner, Eve! It was the red letter "A" that screamed adultress to all who looked. Scarlett O'Hara. Scarlett Johansson. Oh sexy temptress! Red light district, crimson tide. Aunt Flo. Even the clean girls are never white as snow. Streetcar Named Desire? There's hidden meaning to that name, Blanche. The truth reveals a burning hot fire.
Can't I just wear a beautiful red coat without having to feel like a sinner, like Hester Prynne? And even if I were, does it really matter, oh Judges of Color, of Evil and Good? What about Rose Red. Love. What about Red Riding Hood? For that's really who I felt like today. Little girl on her way to grandmother's house. Young and playful and screaming white red.