A half dozen years ago I was morally opposed to color. If you slid open the curtain to my closet, you'd be assaulted by a homogeny of black, grey, and brown, with the occasional navy tossed in just for kicks. I liked classic. I liked anonymity. I was also very unsafe in parking lots where I tended to blend in with the asphault. There were a couple of close calls.
Somewhere between then and now I discovered color. When I wear these stripey knee socks, I take myself far less seriously.