The Little Black Book

Drab greys and bleak whites are so very boring.

Helena, the almost never-lucky, black-haired girl from Kentucky, was surrounded—no, drowning—in drab greys and bleak whites.

Helena lived a grayscale life.

So, how grayscale was Helena’s grayscale life?

Well, imagine going for coffee at a coffee shop with Helena. It’s a little cool outside. The sky is cloudy and it’s morning. You’re at the coffee shop entrance. She yanks open the door for you, smiling at you, gesturing that you step inside first. You step inside onto a small black mat and walk forward into the space. As your boot hits the hard marble floor, the door, closing behind you, hits the grayish steel chime as it acknowledges your arrival with a harmony of gentle yet chirpy jingles. You’re both inside the shop, and you feel the fleeting, waft of cool, outside air get choked by the shutting door as you are welcomed by the warmth of a heated, cute, little coffee shop as you inhale the warm, dark, earthy, rich aroma of freshly ground coffee. Together, you find an almost intimate, minimalist table for two. Perfect! So, as you both pull the chairs back in synchrony, you hear the obligatory screech and grind of the chair feet’ dragging against the white-and-grey marbled floors. Then, you both take a seat.

Maybe, you’ll talk about the weather—today it’s a drab grey and bleak white. That’s a little boring, though. Perhaps, you like more spice with your coffee: Love life, past relationships, work drama—the world is your oyster as to where a conversation over coffee can take you.

So, now, she’s sitting in front of you. She takes off her coat—a gray, fall-ish-winter trench—and lets it hang from the back of her seat. After, she gently and quickly brushes her long, side-swept, black hair with her hands. You notice that she’s wearing a white blouse and grey, straight-cut work-lady dress pants. She adjusts her mask. Now, this is your chance! How grayscale was Helena’s grayscale life, you ask? Well, you could ask her yourself!

What if you asked her…

…what was the weather seemingly like every Monday morning?

The answer would be:

Drab greys and bleak whites.

What if you asked her…

…what was the color palette of the cute condo that she thought she was scoring?

The answer would be:

Drab greys and bleak whites.

What if you asked her…

…what was the color palette of her favorite coffee shop’s décor and flooring?

The answer would be:

Drab greys and bleak whites.

What if you asked her…

…what was the colors of 90% of the cute work outfits that she’ll find in the closet while closet exploring?

The answer would be:

(You guessed it!)

Drab greys and bleak whites.

Day-in, day-out, it was a…

… fall-asleep-snoring…

…-level of boring.

Week after week, the mundane pain of a Monday-to-Friday’s ball-and-chain would come and be done.

It was all just SOO boring.

But, now, don’t get me wrong!

A grayscale life can still be a grateful life. But, a grayscale life can still be a boring life. And, that’s what Helena felt…

… in spades…

…spades of which were also colored in a grayscale of boring drab greys and boring bleak whites.

In any case, I think I’ve made my point.

So, the almost never-lucky girl from Kentucky lived a pretty grayscale life.

As we speak, she’s at home—her drab grey and bleak white condo—getting ready for work. And, she should be done changing now. So, the winning ensemble today was the not-so-exciting-yet-oh-so-cute—yes, you guessed it—white blouse with grey, straight-cut dress pants.

So, with her outfit out of the way, we can move on to chapter 2.