The Annoying Orange

A couch can act as a departure point for an entirely unrelated topic. This one’s color suggests a certain early-twenty-first-century political figurehead. Five seconds into that thought, I revert to ignoring the color as best I can and try to work with the jumbo corduroy instead. But, soothed as I am by the agricultural zen of its freshly-plowed texture, I find myself trumped again by that orange, so let’s just go with it.

Certain colors act as a calming unguent to the soul. Others abrade the soul’s protective coating like so much sandpaper. I couldn’t say whether the dive this color’s popularity has suffered since the seventies has been hastened by its current association with You-Know-Who. Regardless, this sofa doesn’t seem likely to reverse the trend.

The old ploy of trying to make a sale by calling it apricot instead of Velveeta won’t fool anyone. This is the hue of baby-food carrots, those weird peanut candies, bad hair dye on a centenarian actress, barbecue potato chips, a sadistic bridesmaid’s dress, the scum on a polluted pond, a velour jogging suit. I’m not sure it is the hue of good judgment. Resist.