Morning in a tin

An original satirical commentary about paint-colour names.

The paint chart offered me Quiet Dawn, Gentle Promise and a shade called Almost Home. I had gone into the shop hoping to make a wall less beige. Apparently, I had arrived with an inadequate ambition.

Each little rectangle carried a future. Here was a room which forgave a difficult day. Here was an afternoon that never became untidy. The names were doing the decorating before I had opened a tin, and none seemed worried about the laundry rack.

At home, I held the samples against the wall. Quiet Dawn looked stern beside the door. Gentle Promise became rather yellow beneath the lamp. Almost Home was difficult to distinguish from what had already been there, which may have been a philosophical point I was not qualified to judge.

I asked a friend which she preferred. “The second blue,” she said. For the first time in the process, somebody appeared to be discussing paint.

I do not want numbers alone. A good name can be a small pleasure. But I would like the colour to remain visible beneath its biography. My wall has no duty to become a better life. It only needs to look agreeable while I am living the one I have.

Examine the methods the writer uses to question the promises suggested by paint-colour names.