THE STORY OF WHITE

I have been staring at a blank page. It is pure white, flawless and beautiful, but also slightly terrifying because I have to write about white.

There are a million arguments about white not being a color. And, whether it is color or not, white is a perfect blank canvas and an incredibly useful background against which to show off a dash of tan or that beautiful skin color or yours. Nothing says "summer" quite so profoundly as a white tunic over a faded blue denim. One of the best things about white is that it acts as a reflector when you wear it and lights up your face in a most subtle and flattering way. Anything goes with white – it's a thoroughly obliging and well-behaved colour, although I do think a sternly critical eye is required when assessing an outfit's wearability. White is an easy one to get wrong in a way that black seldom is – mainly because it can turn transparent at the drop of a hat. With that in mind the first thing that needs looking at is whether a garment has or will require some sort of lining. But white is wonderful. The clean crispness of white cotton makes it ideal for taking on an ideal holiday in the tropical. Best of all, it hand washes and starches back to pristine snappiness after each wearing. Yes, I love it but who doesn't love a well-made piece that behaves itself and always makes you feel wonderful when you put it on.

So there you are. White – surprisingly practical, predictably versatile and occasionally tricky, but mostly just perfect.

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