Conspiracies in Colour

As a student of design, one of my primary jobs is to look for conspiracy theories where there may be none.
I’d even say, one that eats up the largest share of my “work” time.

Now everyone who knows me has to admit that if there’s one area I am particularly weak, it is fashion.

So let’s delve into its intricacies!
I suppose this is kind of influenced, for sure. Mum finally hauled my ass to the parlour today. I need a haircut. Even I can’t brush them anymore. I gave up a week ago.
And now I’m sitting with what would look in a black-and-white picture like my hair was on fire, because the horrified staff told me my hair needed instant moisture treatment, or something else similar.
They didn’t wait for me to tell them that there’s probably chlorine in it too, that explains it, in fact, but oh well.
Here it sit with my hair up in smoke.
I suppose it happens.

Now, since I mentioned design is half about conspiracy theories, I could also suspect that they were putting my head inside some sort of brainwashing device.
You see, I know what happened to Bucky Barnes!

But anyway, in design, it is always said that your work represents you.
The colours, the shape, the font, particularly in logos.
Hidden messages are a part of this, and of the whole ‘conspiracy theory hunt’.
Look for the arrow in the FedEx logo, representing speed of delivery. (You may beg to differ, but not here. Let ‘em rip in the comments, if you want.)

Do you see the arrow between E and x?

[I will deviate for a minute, I have an observation: what if the steam flowing out of here contains my memories?!]

The yellow colour that Fanta employs, representing youthfulness.

All you’ll ever need.

You’ll find it in posters too. The metallic look for sophistication, the colours, background colours and the schemes between the two, the kerning (spacing between the letters): for example, a poster for the movie Gravity was ironically heavily kerned—the letters seemed to be floating away from each other.

Colour schemes

[sidenote: does steaming it off and then washing it count as brainwashing?
If you must do it, do it painlessly; I’m seriously glad you honoured my request for absolutely ice-cold water. It’s true, I’m actually from Antarctica. Or maybe from the fires of hell, because that cold can’t touch me.
Either that, or I’m so super-cold that the ice fits my personality.

What? It’s called image building; I’m building you an image with words.
It’s design.
Back to where we were.]

Similarly, you can apply the same fundamentals to yourself to let the world know what you want them to think of you, or in other words, the planet before Facebook.

People might wear colours they feel “suit their personality”, might do their hair a certain way, carry something that “complements their personality”.
Now, I don’t follow this example much myself.
I get up in a rush, half sleepy and late, I put on whatever I can pull out of my cupboard and put neon socks under it. As long as it keeps off smelly feet, I’ll pair pink shoes with bright green socks. Don’t judge.
As for the accessories, I’m mostly just knocking people over with a guitar. And no longer have time to brush my hair.
Guess it defines me.

But thankfully, everyone on this planet isn’t me.
Some people really follow the principles of design, even with their own selves as their canvases.
Symmetry, minimalism with the hair, focal points on the face, straight and curved lines (with verticals demanding respect, horizontals for stability, slopes for growth/optimism, curves for fluidity, perhaps accepting change easily?
(– the cabbie thanks you.))
A little additional gen on the focal points— points are one of the most powerful elements of design, simply because points or their larger variants circles, catch your attention, and keep it there, not really allowing you to move on. It explains why traffic lights are circular. Why coins may catch your attention. Why people are almost always drawn towards the eyes, why eye contact is so hard to maintain, and why people bother making it up so much.
Although I’ll admit I still can’t really grasp why they bother making it up so damned much. Butterfly eyes? Come on. You’re weakening the power of the point, the eye!
But that’s just me.

My sister and I had a little chat on hair colouring.
She’s been telling me I should try streaking my hair.
Technically speaking, I wonder what that signifies? As a design student, I reiterate, my job’s to sniff out conspiracy theories, where there aren’t any.
Wait till I get put “Detective” on my résumé.

Perhaps it employs the standard meanings of colours.
Red for intensity, blue, sort of out of the blue, purple for… I forget, royalty? Prince was a big time user of purples. (The White Stripes too, had built a sort of image for themselves with their exclusive usage of reds.) Oranges, perhaps for spontaneity, what with the youthful representation doing its thing.
Gold for… I dunno, telling people you’re still a kid? It is the only colour allowed in schools (it took me by surprise that they were officially approved at all, but it definitely explained its ubiquity!)

I disagree with streaks. If I analyse it as a designer, it’s so indecisive. It’s like you can’t make up your mind. It’s like dipping your toe in the water. I say, swim or go home! (… maybe I’m a little biased here because of people who randomly stand in the middle of the pool trying to make up their minds as to whether the water is too cold or not— and then, bam! Apologies to follow. I ought to do a full post on them, sometimes it’s hilarious!)
I’d say pick a colour, then dye your hair, or don’t do it at all.

Speaking of colours and indecision, one of the hairdressers has alternating horizontal streaks of blue and gold/yellow. What is that supposed to tell me? To be honest, the first thing that comes to my mind is a peacock.
What? It’s visual imagery. The poets love you.

Besides, with my hair normally looking like a bird’s nest, I dunno… call me a bird, I fly, I’m free, I’m going south. That’s only just my general curve!

Well, so it ends. I’m done, I’m incognito/unrecognisable again, because apparently it takes a long time for people to adjust and recognise me after a haircut, but you know my bio; incognito works well for me!

If this post turned out a little jumbled, let’s just use the rules of expression and say that this defines me and all that coverup, I’ll just say it’s my first time. I tried!

Cave rants

I’m sorry for sounding like a caveperson, but the worst thing about conventional social outings is the music.

You think I’m kidding? Thought twelfth grade was hard? Try eating with Justin Beiber shrieking in close proximity to your ear.

And they all have such unshakable faith in simple minor scales… after a while, they all begin to sound the same.
Except for when they kick into G major, sheesh.

This probably sounds like hopelessly incomplete analysis, someday, I’ll tell you the exact chord progression they hide behind. A day when I’m stronger.

Anyway, if I do sound like a grumpy caveperson, I’ll correct you, I’m a nervous caveperson.

I’m blogging from amidst the exact same pandemonium I’d blogged a few weeks ago.

Ironically, the last time I was here, I was “waitlisted” (not explaining again).

This time around, I’m possibly going to be off a waitlist, one way or the other.

Either I’m in or I’m out, and I’m not kidding around this time… of course I’m nervous! (Shivers follow)

It’s so weird how five minutes, a momentary phone tap, could decide the next four years of my life. Momentous, isn’t it?

Shit, I’m nervous.

PS: Justin Beiber works both ways: I don’t have to listen to anyone speak.

Edit: I’m thinking of attempting sketches, the finger-on-napkin or character kind, to keep me going.
It kinda helps that two ladies, done with their food, have begun grooving. Easy fodder for a bored writer.
Shit, an anxious one.

Edit 2: Are things getting better or worse? We’ve moved from the Beibers to the Macarena. It’s subjective, I guess.
I need to stop before I get liveblogging.

Edit 3: (sue me) KIDS, THE NINETIES ARE HERE (cue 90’s dance-pop)
Maybe everything will be alright. Afterall, dad’s busy singing now, so he’s not trying to check my application portal!

Sketch update: The drinks are kicking in around here. No, it’s not me, even though I’ve officially crossed the legal limit. I’m still slipping into character: “I’m an adult? Oh, wait, yes, legally… I’m an adult!?”
But someone laughing here just gave Snow White’s witch a run for her money. I’ve been practising an evil laugh for years! Some people have a gift. Sigh. Never landing a job with Disney. I can’t voice their princesses, you see.

More edits: After all I’ve just said, it’s only logical that from somewhere behind me, Barbie Girl has to begin to boom. No fun, really. If you want something new, check out the Offspring’s cover of the song. Mwahaha.

Also… are the lyrics really “You can brush my hair/ Undress me anywhere”? I swear I thought it was “and dress… I cannot unhear what I’ve heard. Sigh.