The Red Dress Experiment

 I wear too much black. This seems to seriously disturb my Mother. When we go shopping she tries to trick me into choosing items that are not black. It has taken me years to realize that even if I buy the new bright pink bathing suit, I will still resort to the old black one even though the elastic is giving and the straps always fall down. Black isn’t only about being skinnier. Black is sophisticated. Black is easy. Black can go anywhere and with anything. Black is the ultimate canvas for expressive accessories like giant orange hoops and polka dot scarves.

 I have never in my life worn a dress that was not black. Okay, I might be exaggerating.  I did get married once and as I recall I did wear the traditional white. Still, when it comes to professional events and special occasions I don't consider any options other than black. So, you can imagine my horror when just three days before a very big event I was in charge of  this past March, I tore open the package that arrived overnight express super expensive mail containing the dress I had ordered to wear on the most important night of my year and it was ... red. I double checked the packing slip and indeed the dress was supposed to be black. Still, there it was in my hands and it was very very red. Without even trying it on, I immediately began going through my closet to see what on earth I could rush to the dry cleaner and wear to the event since I did not have time to exchange this ridiculous rouge colored garment. It was only out of desperation that I decided to try on the red dress. To my surprise, it fit perfectly. So perfectly that I did wear the dress. It took a good amount of soul searching, public disclaimers, and the encouragement of my Mother. At the tender age of 36, I wore a red dress for the first time.  I never noticed how many people share my phobia of bold hues, until I was the one who looked like I'd been painted in technicolor against a sea of black and white. Would I have looked better in a more flattering black number? Likely. Yet, there was something very powerful about wearing red. An intoxicating sort of power that almost seemed to outweigh the looking as thin as I could factor.

This red dress effect was apparently not all in my head. It is generally accepted that different colors have different psychological impacts on both the wearer and those around her. Actors relax in “Green Rooms” before a performance because green has a tranquilizing effect. Red is a color of confidence, passion and power. A good color choice for those in a position of leadership.  So, it isn’t just a color for prostitutes and first ladies. Red is also associated with the root chakra and used in photodynamic therapy to eradicate cancer.


Yes, the red dress experiment of 2011 was a success. However, I would be lying if I said I don’t prefer black for the really important garments in life. Bathing suits and yoga pants.  I admit that I don’t ever wear those red side-tie capri pants I impulsively grabbed off the sale rack at a Bikram yoga studio because my tummy looks much bigger in them than the black fold over capris.  I hate the view of my tummy in the side mirrors during Virabhadrasana II.  I think I might be guilty of sacrificing the proper alignment of my hips to find a more flattering view.

Sivananda TTC Madurai 2005

Oh, I’ve tried to become more open minded in my yoga wardrobe. In fact, during my teacher training course (TTC) with the Sivananda folks in Madurai, India, I had to wear white pants for asana practice.  Yes, white drawstring pants. It was hard to believe at first. I mean everybody knows that yoga pants are black and stretchy and make your ass look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Despite this self-evident truth, as soon as I arrived for TTC I was issued two pairs of the silly white pants and two yellow t-shirts. Yes, I was one of them now. Uniform and all.

At TTC it didn’t seem so bad that I was wearing the white pants. Even when they were stained from red dirt and dingy from being worn every day. Everyone was wearing them. Everyone kind of looked the same. By the second week I stopped noticing how tall and lean all the European chicks seemed to be. I also discovered that relaxed fitting drawstring pants are quite practical for asana practice. They stay planted firmly at your natural waist and don’t require tugging after a few rounds of Surya Namaskar.  It was an exciting day when the dohbi wallah came back with parcels of clean white pants, even brighter white than they began, extra crisp, folded perfectly.

Still, I wondered why the colors were so important. I understood the value in the uniform. I even appreciated the concern for modesty in the spiritual community. I was unsure why the shirts had to be an unforgiving shade of yellow.  Swami Govinda was happy to offer an explanation. Turns out that like much of the “no onions, no garlic!” ashram life, the yellow and white dress code was about cultivating good energy by being mindful of to the three gunas, or the primary forces of creation. According to yogic philosophy, everything is made up of these three forces in different proportions: Raja, Sattva and Tamas. Sattva being the purest essence; raja being the most agitated; and, tamas being the darkest. The music you listen too, food you eat, company you keep, thoughts you indulge and yes colors you surround yourself in can all be classified as being predominantly one of the three forces of nature. Naturally, it seems healthiest to accumulate boatloads of sattvic things. White and yellow are the most sattvic colors. My beloved black the most tamasic. Bummer. Furthermore, it seems yellow is associated with learning and therefore a student will excel when wearing, seeing, being yellow.  Okay, I could accept that. Swami Govinda also said that having sex disturbed the pranic forces in the body so much that it wasn’t even worth practicing asanas within twenty-four hours of getting it on. Now, I was pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well at the shiny yoga studios back in the States. Neither would the baggy white pants. Practical, or not.

Those two pairs of white pants traveled with me all over South India. They even made it through ATTC (that’s Sivananda speak for “Advanced Teacher Training”) at Neyarr Dam. When I got home I folded them nicely and put them away in a trunk of special things, where I hold on to everything that is most valuable to me. They were stained, torn and ill-fitting but the truth was I adored them. It took me awhile to get used to wearing regular clothes in the regular world again. 

The red dress is hanging in my closet. Ready for another occasion to transform my psychology through  the power of color. I may not be completely reformed, in fact I just bought two new pairs of black capri yoga pants. But, I am thinking more about the power of color as it relates to my mood, my job and my practice. Ultimately, what we wear on a first date or to a vinyasa class should be whatever makes us feel most comfortable in our own skin. If that is something black and slinky then so be it. What concerns me about my color choices is not the colors themselves but the fact that I tend to make choices based on how I look instead of how I feel.  Wearing the red dress made me aware of this phenomenon. You know what they say,  the first step is admitting you have a problem.

I’m seriously considering a turquoise swimsuit…