When Camouflage bcomes a personality: Somatic Healing, Colour, and Being Seen

Many of us slowly trained ourselves out of choosing colour.
Everywhere online you see it: the “neutral aesthetic,” the all-black wardrobe, the capsule closet that promises calm and control.

Does your beige, black and white life ever feel like an ingenuine preference?

The Somatic Moment My Body Told the Truth About Colour

This clicked for me during a simple somatic exercise called orienting, letting your eyes wander around the room and noticing what they naturally land on.
Orienting is a foundational practice in somatic work: it helps the nervous system find small pockets of safety by tracking what feels supportive in the environment.

My eyes kept going to the bright things.
Candy packaging.
My son’s stupidly bright toy in the corner.

I could feel a small internal shift just from looking, my body loosening a little, my breath dropping a little deeper and slower.

Yes. My body liked the colours.

So why, when it comes to me, what I wear, what I buy… do I almost never choose that kind of colour?

As a teenager I learned that:

• black/white/beige = responsible and put-together

• colour = too loud, too childish, trying too hard

So I chose the “mature” options.
My closet got muted.
My home got more restrained.
It all looked tasteful… but not necessarily alive.

If your wardrobe looks like a funeral
and your home feels more like a showroom,
it’s worth asking:

• Did I choose this because I love it,
  or because I’m scared of what it would mean if I didn’t?

• What does my body actually say if I listened?

Why We Traded Colour for “Put-Together”

We live in a culture that rewards camouflage.

Bright colour has been framed as frivolous, unserious, less professional.

We’re learnt/ been taught not to draw too much attention, or don’t be “too much”; that opens up us to critisicm and judgement.

So we slide toward the safe uniform: black pants, neutral tops, tasteful beige.

Fashion psychology research even showed that people often lean on black and dark neutrals to appear competent, intelligent, or in control, especially when they feel vulnerable or depleted.

If colour is how nature calls to itself, eg. flowers, coral, birds, sunsets, then neutrality is how things hide.
Camouflage exists for survival.
We just renamed it aesthetic and started doing it to our personality.

So you end up with questions like:

• Is what I wear actually about taste, or there’s a deeper element to it?

• When I say “Neutrals are just my vibe,” is that fully true, or is it partly code for “I don’t want anyone to react to me”?

This is where shadow work and parts work become powerful.

The part of you who chose black to feel serious, professional and in control isn’t wrong; they are brilliant and adaptive. But they may also be tired of carrying the whole story of who you are.

If you’re sensing that old identity armour starting to feel too tight, you might love The Reclaim, my space for those who are ready to meet the parts of themselves they muted to stay acceptable.

Neutrals as Nervous-System Camouflage

From a somatic perspective, clothes are not neutral; they’re an extension of how your body negotiates safety in the world.

Somatic and fashion-therapy practitioners are increasingly naming how style choices mirror mood, trauma history, and self-protection.

Black is easy.
Black reads as serious, efficient, safe.
Colour is different.
Colour makes you visible. It gives people something to react to.

If you grew up in environments where attention felt unpredictable or conditional,
of course your system learned to blend in.
Of course it reached for the outfit that said:

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m low-maintenance.”

In that sense, your wardrobe becomes a kind of second skin:

the bark your nervous system grew so you could move through rooms without being touched too deeply.

So you might notice:

• You feel more exposed in a bright top than in a vulnerable conversation.

• You feel oddly anxious in red or yellow, even if you like them on the hanger.

• You tell yourself “I just prefer neutrals,” but your body gets a tiny spark when you see someone else in colour.

Is that actually “chromophobia,” a clinical fear of colour? Probably not.
For most people I work with, it’s a pattern. A somatic memory.

So ask yourself:

• What part of me feels relieved when I disappear into black?

Tiny, Somatic Experiments With Colour (That Won’t Freak Your System Out)

Bringing colour back doesn’t have to mean dressing like a highlighter or abandoning the aesthetics you genuinely love.

This is about experiments, not makeovers.

Think of it as re-introducing a food your body secretly craves: slowly, in small doses, so your system can realise, “Oh… this is actually nourishing.”

Try starting with:

1. One object your body lights up around

When you practice orienting, notice: what colours does your gaze keep returning to?

Could you bring one object in that colour into your daily life:
a mug, a pen, a pair of socks, a phone case?

Ask yourself:

• How does my body feel before, during, and after being with this colour?

2. One corner that’s for you, not the feed

Create a tiny shrine of aliveness in your home: a shelf, a bedside table, a corner of your desk that doesn’t have to look “on brand.”

Let it hold a bright book cover or a ridiculous candle, anything you actually love.

This corner is for your inner child, not your outer image.

Notice:

• Does any guilt, embarrassment, or self-consciousness arise when you see it?

• What comes up?

3. One visible act of not-camouflaging on your body

This might be fun-infused socks you don’t hide or a bright scarf over your usual black.

You’re not trying to become a different person. You’re experimenting with being 2% more visible than your nervous system currently thinks is “safe enough.”

Ask:

• What would it be like to be slightly easier to see, while still supported?

• What might change if my clothes were a little more honest about who I am inside?

Over time, these micro-choices can create surprising shifts.

You Didn’t Just Cut Out Colour

Here’s the painful part:
When you slowly edited colour out of your life, you likely edited out certain selves too.

So when someone says,

“I forgot how much I love colour,”

they’re rarely just talking about clothes or cushions.

They’re saying:

“I forgot how much of myself I put away to look mature, reasonable, acceptable.”

This isn’t just a style decision.
It’s a somatic one. It’s about how hidden you’re willing to be in a life you’re supposed to actually live in.

You don’t have to burn your neutrals or betray your taste.
What colour did I stop letting myself wear, and which part of me is still waiting for permission to come back?

I use AI for editing and SEO, but every piece is reviewed and finalized by me to stay true to my voice.