I have started dressing in black in my late 20s. Before that I used to wear what I now think of as very loud and over the top colorful outfits that, in a way, were in direct contradiction with a tendency for existential nausea.
I do not remember if black was a conscious choice or it just happened that I started to resemble myself more while retreating into some kind of invisibility at the same time.
Now, dressing in black does have, sometimes, the same burden of the “perpetual mourning” for the state of the world and I identify with every single line on this song. How could I possibly wear “bright colors on my back”? Black helps me not to manifest emotions in ways that would most probably lead me to a nervous breakdown.
Not everyday does dressing in black assume this suffocating grief for “our suffering age”. In all its absence, black is full of contradictions. The color of oppression and rebellion, the color of religious Puritans and bondage fetishists, the uniform of authority and intellectual nonconformity.
In all its “poetic beauty” black allows me to write a different story everyday. This song is often part of the soundtrack.
Rebecca Willis via Feelguide