Turning Brown

My cousin Mimi wore brown on her brother's wedding because she wanted to be understated. At Indian weddings, the sister of the groom is perhaps the most over-dressed person after the bride and here was Mimi in a dull, depressing shade of brown several shades lighter than her deep brown eyes. She could as well have come to a funeral. We had to field questions from inquisitive guests about her "unusual" attire all evening.

She used to be my favorite little sister - Mimi of sparkling eyes, pretty smile and quick wit. I don't recall exactly when all of that changed for the color brown to take over her life. She stopped singing. I don't remember what her laughter sounded like. Increasingly that was the only color she wore - to her the color of understatement. I was not aware that Mimi had ever been guilty of overstatement.

Her love of brown extended to rich chocolate cake, coffee, leather satchels and a mood of melancholy that approximated the bleak season when trees turn leafless - an endless sea of brown. Because of Mimi, brown came to be associated with sadness and loss for me. I no longer recall what it meant to me before it turned synonymous with Mimi. Because of her, I panic when my wardrobe starts to become dominated by any one color. I make haste to break the pattern, throw some randomness in. Because of her, I know I can't let a color overpower me.