My mom owns the original Color Me Beautiful book from the ’80s and had her colors professionally done about 30 years ago. She wasn’t militant about sticking to her palette, at least not that I remember, but she’s always had a great eye. Thanks to her, I learned early on that not all reds are created equal - some lean orange, some blue, and they won’t all work on everyone.
I’m lucky to have inherited Mom’s ability to see the layers within colors. So when I recently took a free online quiz, it confirmed what I’ve long suspected: I’m a true winter.
Knowing your season is incredibly useful when it comes to shopping. Yes, it helps you choose colors that complement your skin tone but, more importantly, it sets boundaries, or guardrails for the overwhelm of infinite retail options. In a world where everything is available all the time, any tool that helps narrow the field is a win in my book.
Now, a few caveats. The seasonal color system was originally created for white women, and its foundations reflect that bias. As Virginia Sole-Smith and Corinne Fay discussed in a Burnt Toast episode earlier this year, the “ideal” colors are often framed as those that make you look slimmer and younger, which means there’s fatphobia and ageism baked in. And, at the end of the day, you should wear whatever you want. If lilac makes you happy but it’s not in your season, wear the damn lilac. As Virginia puts it, this doesn’t need to be “just another set of things to now feel like you’re getting wrong.” Buy in or don’t; there’s no one policing you and the colors you wear.
That said, I personally find the limitations helpful. If a certain shade doesn’t flatter me - because, yes, I buy in to that - I’m less likely to waste time or money on it, even if I love it on someone else. It keeps me from chasing looks that won’t work for me and saves me the hassle of returns, which I hate.
Take blue, for example. I love wearing blue, as you probably know from my Instagram and my last post, but not all blues are created equal. Some are bright, some muted; some warm, some cool. Knowing what works for me helps me scroll right past the ones that don’t.
Does any of this matter? Only if you care, and only really when the color is near your face. A solid color or bold print up top will affect how your skin looks way more than something subtle or further away from your face.
Last weekend, I popped into Cos and found four different blue dresses to test this theory. I tried each on in the same spot: white wall behind me, facing a window with natural light. The sun may have shifted slightly between photos, but it’s as close to a studio environment as I can get!
As a winter, I look best in cool, bright colors like the cobalt on the far right. They even out my skin tone and make my eyes sparkle. The second from the left, a cooler but more muted blue, works too, though it adds a yellow tinge to my skin that isn’t ideal. The washed-out blue (second from the right) and the warmer blue on the far left both exaggerate my rosacea and pores. They may look fine in isolation, but next to a really good blue… there’s a clear winner.
Understanding this has made me more disciplined with online shopping. I love pinks and corals as much as I love blues, but anything with an orange undertone is a hard no for me. I fell for a dress on the Tuckernuck site last week - gorgeous style, wrong shade of poppy. I even went into the store to check out another poppy dress in person: beautiful cut, but the color is a muted brick rather than a soft pink, and that sealed its fate. The hot pink Chloe dress (you know the one; everyone has it in one of the five colorways) is the right shade for me… but unfortunately, that line doesn’t fit my boobs. Alas!
At the end of the day, this isn’t about following rules for me. It’s about finding tools that make things a little easier. Knowing my colors means fewer dressing room (or package delivery) disappointments and fewer “what was I thinking?” purchases gathering dust in the back of my closet. It helps me feel more confident in what I wear because I know the color is working with me, not against me.
So whether you go all-in on seasonal color analysis or just keep a mental note of what shades make you feel most like yourself, the point isn’t perfection. It’s permission - to make decisions faster, to trust your eye, and to build a wardrobe that supports you. And if something outside your “season” brings you joy? Wear it anyway! Nothing looks better than feeling good in your own skin.
This was a fun read, and your four blues pictures *really* emphasized the point. I was fairly obsessed with the original Color Me Beautiful book in the '80s and '90s and took it out of the library over and over again. No one in my family ever had their colors professionally done that I know of, but the book did help my mom understand why my older sibling kept on picking black clothes--they're a winter, while my mom and I are summers, and my red-haired grandmother who kept on pushing yellow dresses on my mom in her girlhood was, duh, an autumn.
(It's also kind of fun to think about color seasons in terms of houses. I always objected to that "conventional advice" of "decorate your house with the same colors you like to wear" because I love a yellow room but loathe wearing yellow except as part of rainbows. And I only just realized it's because my house is an autumn. The tone of the woodwork means that the blues we have in two rooms lean very strongly green, and then deep green and warm yellow in two other rooms go very nicely.)
Wow - those blue pictures are maybe the most compelling evidence I've seen that this isn't all a scam!! (On top of my newfound love of olive green)