A Quote by Lela Rose

Designing bridal is perfect for me, because black is my least favorite color, if you could call it a color. — © Lela Rose
Designing bridal is perfect for me, because black is my least favorite color, if you could call it a color.
But when I fell in love with black, it contained all color. It wasn’t a negation of color. It was an acceptance. Because black encompasses all colors. Black is the most aristocratic color of all.... You can be quiet and it contains the whole thing.
My favorite color is jungle green. At least, that's what it said on the side of my favorite crayon in first grade. I don't know if it's an official color.
We're looking at a story we want to call "Am I Black enough for you?" That's that whole question of who determines what "Black enough" is. Is it color? And if it's color, then are you telling me that Clarence Thomas is Blacker than Louis Farrakhan? If it's not color then what's the line that determines whether you are?
I think my least favorite hair color was the hair color that I had in 'Pitch Perfect 2.' They really wanted me to be dark red, and I wanted to be lighter like I was in the first movie, but they didn't want that. But I rocked some light red for a year, after it faded.
Black is the absence of all color. White is the presence of all colors. I suppose life must be one or the other. On the whole, though, I think I would prefer color to its absence. But then black does add depth and texture to color. Perhaps certain shades of gray are necessary to a complete palette. Even unrelieved black. Ah, a deep philosophical question. Is black necessary to life, even a happy life? Could we ever be happy if we did not at least occasionally experience misery?
Dark green is my favorite color. It's the color of nature and the color of money and the color of moss!
My favorite name for a color is "puce." It's kind of a dried blood color. It's a hideous color. But I love the word. It's so euphonic. But my favorite colors are lavender, purple, periwinkle blue, and white.
...they told me of color, that it was an illusion of the eye, an event in the perceiver's mind, not in the object; they told me that color had no reality; indeed, they told me that color did not inhere in a physical body any more than pain was in a needle. And then they imprisoned me in darkness; and though there was no color there, I still was black, and they still were white; and for that, they bound and gagged me.
I, however, like black. It is a color that makes me comfortable and the color with which I have the most experience. In the darkest darkness, all is black. In the deepest hole, all is black. In the terror of my Addicted mind, all is black. In the empty periods of my lost memory, all is black. I like black, goddammit, and I am going to give it its due.
For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go.
In terms of bridal dress, I've tried everything. I've tried short, long, deconstructed, constructed, bustiers, working in fabrics, working in color. I've been working in color in bridal for probably 15 years. Who else would do an entire collection dipped in tea? I did that one year. My design team dipped every single dress in tea in a bathtub. I did that just because I wanted to work out of the vocabulary of white.
As an artist I would like to eliminate the symbolic pretty much, for black is interesting not as a color but as a non-color and as the absence of color.
If you force me to pick one color, it'd be Black... It covers up the things inside of me that I don't want to be known. Well, for the same reason, black is the color I hate, too.
Deep, dark unearthly black. I hadn't told anyone yet, but the color kept streaking across my mind at the oddest moments. When it did, my skin shivered pleasantly, and it was as if I could feel the color tracing a finger tenderly along my jaw, tipping my chin up to face it directly. I knew it was absurd to think a color would come to life, but once or twice, I was sure I'd caught a flash of something more substantial behind the color. A pair of eyes. The way they studied me cut to the heart.
Purple has always been my favorite color... but purple, when I was a little kid, was a color that boys weren't really allowed to wear. That's what all the kids at school told me. I filled my wardrobe with as much purple as I could possibly find, because who cares? Life's too short to dress by other people's rules.
There really isn't anything that you could call 'bad' color. It all has to do with the amount of color you use and in what context it appears.
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