Who is the Arbiter of Classy?

Last week’s Friday Live made people think..and reach out to me with those thoughts. And I realized…the concept of wearing colour is multi-layered (pun intended).

I was trying to draw a meaningful conclusion from all the ideas about colour that had been shared with me, when, apropos of nothing, Shefali said, “What if the theme for Friday is… classy?”

And suddenly all those loose threads started to braid themselves together.

Last week on our Live I made a comment about colour. About how we adore it in flowers. We’ll stop mid-sentence to admire a bloom. But when it comes to wearing colour ourselves? Painting a wall with it? Letting it live on our bodies?

We hesitate.

I wondered out loud if maybe we’re just afraid to take up space.

The responses were thoughtful. More thoughtful than my off-the-cuff theory deserved.

One woman shared that throughout her career her wardrobe was dark and somber. She worked in environments steeped in misogyny, crisis, addiction, power struggles. Brightness would have felt inappropriate. Unsafe even. Her clothing carried the weight of the rooms she entered.

And then she wrote that now — retired — she has given herself permission to revel in colour. That she’s struggled with “see me, don’t see me,” with being perceived as “too much,” but now she simply doesn’t care. Hallelujah.

That word. Permission.

Another woman offered something completely different:

“I don’t feel like I’m hiding in neutrals or failing to express myself. Quite the opposite. As a tall woman, a larger-sized woman — often taller and bigger than many men — I feel confident in strong neutrals. They feel architectural and assured. They ground me in the space I am already confidently taking up.”

Architectural and assured.

I loved that.

And I realized something slightly embarrassing.

Ironically, I had made the issue of wearing colour into a black-and-white scenario. As though bright meant brave. As though neutral meant hiding. As though authenticity required saturation.

But this isn’t black and white.

Neutrals can be power. They can be structure. They can be a deliberate grounding.

Colour can be joy. Or rebellion. Or healing.

And sometimes the choice to avoid colour has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with context. With emotional labour. With not wanting your clothing to compete with someone else’s grief.

What struck me most in the responses wasn’t who wore colour and who didn’t.

It was the self-awareness.

One woman wrote, “Your discussion made me thoughtful… I have evolved.”

Another said she sometimes senses disapproval at work for being colourful — no one says anything, but she feels it — and she has decided to let people feel what they want. “What they think of me is none of my business.”

That feels like the real conversation.

When we’re younger, so much of our energy goes toward fitting in. Look at me, I belong here. I can follow the rules.

As we get older, something shifts. Look at me. I’m not trying to fit in anymore. Maybe you’d like to join my community. There are fewer rules.

And maybe that’s what classy actually is.

Not beige. Not bright. Not quiet. Not bold.

Classy is knowing why you’re wearing what you’re wearing.

It’s choosing restraint because it serves you — not because you’re shrinking.

It’s choosing colour because it delights you — not because you’re proving something.

It’s not performing seriousness. It’s not performing exuberance.

It’s self-permission.

I don’t think we all need to wear colour.

I just think we should all know we’re allowed to.

And that the only approval that really matters in the mirror is our own.