For years, I only wore black.
Not because I loved it. Because I was scared of everything else.
Black felt like a hiding place. If I wore black, no one would notice my stomach or my arms or the way my hips looked in bad lighting. Black was polite. Black didn't ask for attention.
I told myself it looked "sleek." Really, I was just afraid of being seen.
Then one day I was folding laundry — mostly gray and black — and Mochi sat on top of a pair of old navy leggings. She's orange. Bright, dumb, beautiful orange. And against all that dark fabric, she looked alive.
I thought, why can't I look like that?
Why I Stopped Hiding in Black
So I bought a mustard yellow sweater. On a whim. From Old Navy, on sale for $18.
When it arrived, I held it up and almost put it back in the bag. The color was so… loud. Warm. Like butter and honey and fall leaves all at once.
I tried it on in my bedroom. Looked in the mirror. Paused.
For the first time in months, I didn't look at my double chin or my wide hips. I looked at the color. It made my skin look richer. My eyes looked brighter. I couldn't stop staring — not because I thought I looked perfect, but because I looked present.
I wore it to work the next day. A coworker said, "You look different. Good different."
That's when it hit me.
Black wasn't making me invisible. It was making me forgettable.
The Lie About Taking Up Less Space
I started paying attention after that. I'd notice women on the street wearing coral or teal or a soft olive green. They didn't have perfect bodies. But the colors made me see them.
So I kept going.
Bought a rust-red dress. Too bright. Returned it.
Bought a dusty rose cardigan. Kept it. Wore it until the elbows wore thin.
Bought a pair of emerald green trousers from Eloquii. They fit weird in the crotch — but the color? Gorgeous. I kept them anyway.
Here's what I learned the hard way:
Most style advice will tell you to "find your season" or do a color analysis. That's fine. But honestly? You don't need a professional to tell you what looks good.
You just need to try something that isn't black, gray, or navy.
Because here's the thing no one says out loud — when your body is bigger, people expect you to shrink. In every way. Take up less space. Wear darker colors. Don't stand out.
That's a lie.
The color you've been ignoring — the one you walk past in stores because it feels "too much" — that might be the one that finally makes you feel like yourself again.
What Happens When You Try the Color You’re Afraid Of
I'm not saying throw out all your black clothes. I still have my favorite black cardigan. It's soft and worn in and feels like a hug.
But I don't hide in it anymore.
These days, I look for colors that feel like Mochi's fur in the afternoon light. Bright. Warm. A little ridiculous.
And every time I put one on, I feel less like I'm disappearing.
So try the mustard yellow. Try the burnt orange. Try that coral pink you've been eyeing but were too scared to buy.
It might not work. You might look in the mirror and laugh and change back into something dark.
Or — you might see yourself for the first time in a long time.
And that changes everything.