You’re bound to regret that choice.
I heard this comment over and over.
I’d just purchased a new SUV with a black paint job. In Texas. In the summer.
Many people thought I was in for a heaping of buyer’s remorse. A white paint job would have been a better choice, they said.
This argument made some sense. White colored items tend to deflect heat, while black colored items do the opposite. And Texas, you might have heard, features plenty of heat for much of the year.
Add it all up, and the black SUV was essentially a furnace. Buying it was a bad decision. Case closed.
But I was unconvinced. For I knew what a hassle a white paint job would prove to be.
You see, Texas doesn’t have blue skies year-round. There are plenty of days where the atmosphere is saturated with dust, pollen, or raindrops.
Those elements gather on anything in their path – including vehicles with white paint jobs. So, if I had such a vehicle, it would often look dirty. I’d need to head to the car wash time and again to get the grime off.
That wasn’t how I wanted to spend my time – or my money. So, I went with the black SUV. And I waved off any intimations of remorse.
A few years later, I was shopping for some new shoes.
I found a pair of Nike Air Force 1’s at the store. They fit well, had a leathery exterior, and were all black.
This last detail was critical. I could wear these shoes with jeans and any shirt without looking out of place. I could even wear them to work on Casual Fridays.
I bought the Nikes.
Soon, my friends started giving me uneasy looks.
You know that drug dealers wear black AF1’s right? they exclaimed. You should’ve gotten the white ones.
I did not, in fact, know this. I must have missed the note on the store display.
But even if I did get that memo, it wouldn’t have led me to buy the white pair.
Just like a white vehicle, white shoes are dirt magnets. And they’re even harder to clean.
So, I held firm. I kept wearing my black AF1’s and driving my black SUV. And I ignored the whispers around me.
I believed I was following common sense, even if I did absorb some extra heat for my decisions.
But as I looked around, I realized just how unusual those decisions were. It seemed like every other person I passed on the street sported white Air Force 1’s. And every other vehicle I saw on the roads had a white paint job.
That had me scratching my head.
Vehicles and tennis shoes are just two fronts in a movement. A movement I don’t understand.
Namely the white finish movement.
It’s seemingly everywhere.
Our walk-in closets are full of white dress shirts. Countertops, walls, and porcelain appliances tend to sport a white sheen. Office lobbies and shopping malls feature ornate white tile.
We’re drawn to this bright look. We relish the freshness it provides. And we fill our world with it.
But there’s a catch.
We have no patience for any blemishes on our shiny canvas. We can’t stand it when that crisp, white finish looks anything but. When a tomato stain appears on our button-down shirt. When a skid mark tarnishes the marble floors.
To stave off the unconscionable, we kick into overdrive. We devote as much effort as we can to preserving that shine.
We send our shirts off to the cleaners, time and again. We scrub our floors and finishes until our hands are chapped, and then scrub some more. We take hours out of our day, money out of our wallets, and water out of circulation – all to maintain appearances.
It’s all absurdly wasteful. And more than a bit nonsensical.
Recently, I saw an unusual commercial.
The ad features a black box in the middle of a West Texas road.
After several elaborate motions, the box transforms into…a toilet. More specifically, a smart toilet manufactured by Kohler.
Now, I’m not in the market for a toilet. And I was less than enthused to see one unveiled on a road I once drove on.
Still, one detail of the ad did resonate with me. The color of the toilet.
A black toilet would seem to make a lot of sense. After all, it’s an appliance that collects our messiest bodily functions and disposes of them. A crisp, clean look runs counter to a toilet’s actual function.
And yet, I’ve rarely encountered a porcelain throne that did not have a white finish. Which means a great many people have spent a great amount of time preserving that shiny look, over and over.
Now, this is not to say that such actions are pointless. I certainly understand the importance of cleaning toilets.
But the prime purpose of such actions should be to keep the toilet sanitary, not to keep the white finish looking crisp. Maybe if the porcelain was black, it would reinforce that point.
The same principle can apply to bathtubs and sinks with a white finish. Or to white-colored kitchen countertops and tile floors. It could even apply to white shirts, shoes, or SUVs.
None of those items are expressly designed to be sullied, the way a toilet is. But we waste too much effort cleaning them, just to maintain an aesthetic. Perhaps with a different hue, we’d follow a healthier pattern for this task.
Maybe, just maybe, we’d break free of the madness.
It turns out a black finish alone didn’t keep my SUV clean.
Dried raindrops would leave gray marks all over. Dirt and pollen would stick to the clear coat for days on end.
I’ve made my fair share of trips to the car wash over the years. And I’ve given my Air Force 1’s a once over now and then.
Still, these activities are proportional to actual need. They’re meant to keep these items clean, not belie the fact that they were lived in.
And that’s precisely the point.
It’s time to stop condemning ourselves to a prison of our own making. It’s time to quit walking on eggshells in defense of an aesthetic.
We need something more feasible, more adaptable, and more efficient.
Color choices alone won’t get us there. But they’re a start.
Let us begin.