#thedress and the terminology of color
Do you remember #thedress? I'm still feeling a little shell-shocked by that meme. Because "the dress" looked white and gold to me. Which caused me to question every description of a wine's color I have ever typed.
Take a look at this lineup of standard rosé hues developed by the Centre du Rosé. (I did not apply a filter. However, I did brighten the image slightly, as the light wasn't terrific when I snapped this shot.)
Most of the titles are self-explanatory, but if you're not a French speaker, groseille is "currant." And pomelo is confusing. As far as I understand it, this word is used to refer to a standard pink grapefruit in France, while in other countries, such as the US, it refers to Citrus maxima. And where's the acute accent?
Furthermore, shouldn't mandarine suggest the color of a pumpkin? Isn't mangue flesh bold yellow, with, in some cases, a blushing-red skin? And a red currant glistens boldly like Superman's cape, doesn't it? I thought it did, anyway.
It's possible that the French simply get different varieties of fruits in their grocery stores than we do, so these linguistic assignments might make more sense to them. And I don't bring up these questions to disparage the Centre du Rosé, a source of substantial research and information.
But to me, the exercise of assigning names to the various shades of rosé is a Sisyphean task. Our language of color is hopelessly inadequate.
If we all see colors differently, as #thedress taught us, what's the point?