1.0Soft Sensibilitieshttps://kimberlypearl.co/blogKimberlyhttps://kimberlypearl.co/blog/author/kimberlypearl-92gmail-com/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="XDcVfpkomP"><a href="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/seeing-red-lunar-new-year-2022/">Seeing Red</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/seeing-red-lunar-new-year-2022/embed/#?secret=XDcVfpkomP" width="600" height="338" title="“Seeing Red” — Soft Sensibilities" data-secret="XDcVfpkomP" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js /* ]]> */ </script> I’ve always been drawn to the color red. It may have been instinctual—red is the first color humans recognize after black and white—or the product of conditioning; after I first discovered horoscopes and learned that Aries were fiery, singular spirits emboldened carnelian (our birthstone), I suddenly wanted (or felt compelled to?) have red surround me. I loved the gilded red envelopes handed to me on Chinese New Year (I cared more about these thin packets than the carefully folded bills inside, a sign of a stationery hoarder), and found magic in the firecrackers hung outside temples in Keelung. Red in chili peppers were vibrant signs of a good meal to come. A rouge, cloth-bounded hardback? A delicious read, no doubt. Somewhere along the way, though, red became too bold—too Chinese—for me to love. Blue (which I’m still drawn to, to be clear) felt more modern, American, cool, acceptable. Black was easy. Safe. Rejecting red was the simplest way to draw a clear line between my identity and self: a first of many visual proclamations that I was different from them. Pick me. But red is conflict and power; struggle and passion; love, luck, and an acute hypersensitivity to the world around it.…https://kimberlypearl.co/blog/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/lunar-new-year-red-vogue-feb-2022-hoyeon-jung-cover.jpg