"You know, K&B purple..."

If you don't know, K&B was a long time, on-every-corner pharmacy/newstand/convience store that just about everybody shopped at in and around New Orleans and lesser known parts of Louisiana. And they had a great big, hard to miss sign that was oval in shape, the most vivid shade of purple you ever did see and giant gold yellow lettering to boot. Everyone knows K&B purple. Unfortunately, they were bought out by the not-so-hot Rite Aide chain and bye-bye went the not quite complete Mardi Gras trifecta signage. Kinda wish I could've snagged one the old signs before they were hauled off, though there's no doubt in my mind someone had the foresight to salvage one as a piece of nostalgia and history. And too, I believe one Dr. Bob, New Orleans folk artist, painted up a homage of sorts to the beloved sign, if I'm not mistaken. It's just something we all identify with in these parts.

In any case, this now finished shawl is just the perfect color match to K&B purple, though that's not the reason I choose the yarn. I did, in fact, try really hard to fight the demon in my head that I so kindy refer to as ROY G. BIV, who on occasion takes over in moments when subtlety and forethought to color-matching one's everyday wardrobe should prevail. I did try hard to make myself buy a nice warm gray color; I even loooked at the beige, blue, and oatmeal yarn assortments. But there across the aisle, beckoning my inner eccentric, lay a hairy, bright, orchid purple and off I went like a bee to coneflower looking for a pollen fix. It happens every time. And if it's not an obnoxious shade of purple, it's chartruese or turquoise or something equally as obnoxious, but so goes it. Who knew such an obviously bad choice of colors for a shawl could make one feel so remaniscient of hours spent lolling through the K&B leafing through MAD magazines, picking out the perfect Trapper Keeper, trying on every pair of Blues Brothers sunglasses and hand-testing every shade of lip gloss?