Last summer, I (somewhat ironically) discovered that I’m an autumn. And no, I don’t mean that I prefer a crisp walk over a beach day—I’m talking color analysis. In June, I finally gave in to the online pressure and paid someone to tell me that I look ‘sickly’ in black, and that my current outfit ‘is accentuating my under-eye circles.’
But… what is colour analysis, and where did this trend come from?
According to Vogue, color analysis gained popularity in the 1980s with Carole Jackson’s book Color Me Beautiful. Inspired by the color theories of Bauhaus designer and artist Johannes Itten, Jackson believed that each person had a specific color palette—or ‘season’—that harmonized with their natural features, undertones, and overtones.
In recent years, this unique approach to styling has firmly returned to fashion— I struggle to scroll through Instagram without seeing videos of women draped in various shades until one suddenly makes their eyes ‘pop’ and their skin look brighter. Writer Laura Antonia Jordan speculates that this internet resurgence stems from the ‘rise of personal style’, suggesting that ‘perhaps some people are now desperate for some rules to follow.’ Yet, I’d also hazard a guess that the ‘quiet luxury’ trend, with its emphasis on capsule wardrobes, has played a role. It’s easier to commit to intentional (and often expensive) purchases when you know they’ll suit you.
So, returning to Color Me Beautiful, Jackson proposed that everyone was one of four seasons: spring, summer, autumn, or winter, and within each season were a series of sub-seasons. These smaller categories have developed and expanded over time, but are generally a variation of warm, light, true, deep, or bright. For instance, I am a so-called ‘true autumn’.
My Experience with Color Analysis
Having been presented with a series of neutral color swatches, my color analyst (if that’s what they’re called?) informed me that my undertones were warm. Having lived 20 years under the assumption that ‘pale’ meant ‘cold’, this came as a shock. She continued, explaining that the silver jewelry collection I’d meticulously built over the years clashed with my complexion and subtly encouraged me to invest in some gold pieces instead. I was then met with an even deeper blow: being a true autumn meant my ‘perfect’ color was khaki.
Fortunately, I made a quick recovery when she remarked that my celebrity color match was Keira Knightley. I immediately imagined myself in Pride and Prejudice (2005, of course) and felt better about resigning myself to a wardrobe of brown-and-green variants.
Lessons from A True Autumn
Once my color analysis was complete, I felt the urge to tear through my wardrobe and throw out any pastels that would make me look ‘washed out’ and accentuate my imperfections. Yet, upon opening my closet, I remembered that some of my favorite pieces—those with memories attached or that give me confidence—were not in my color palette at all. I picked up my favorite royal blue dress and sighed…could I really never wear this piece again?
After many hours of sifting through my clothes, trying them on, and staring intently in the mirror, I concluded that (like most things in life) balance is key. I didn’t need to get rid of the outfits that didn’t fit with the neat, prescriptive color wheel I’d been given. If I like wearing pink and I feel good in silver jewelry, I shouldn’t let my ‘season’ dissuade me.
Admittedly, I did change a few things: I swapped my long black trench for a navy one, switched to a warm-toned concealer, and, crucially, became more intentional with my purchases. When I’m tempted to buy another unnecessary £100 tank top, which closely resembles the pile already crammed into my cupboards, I think: does this fit with my color palette? Chances are—probably not. That said, I do now own six brown hoodies.