Frances Whiting: Why white doesn’t necessarily mean white

If you think - as I once did - that white paint is white paint, you my friend would be very wrong, writes Frances Whiting.

The Inuits, it is said, have more than 50 words for snow, and all of them glorious.

Now, technically some of them are more words to describe snow, for example “muruaneq” means “soft, deep snow”, “nutaryuk” means “fresh snow”, and “qanikcaq” means “snow on ground”.

But I’ll tell you something that does actually have 50 words to describe it, perhaps more; I stopped counting at around the 50 mark after losing the will to live, and that something is white paint.

Because you might think - as I did - that white paint is white paint, but you, my friend would be very wrong.

Now we are about to build a house, because there just wasn’t enough stress or petty arguments in our lives, so one day we said to each other: “Why buy a ready-made house where we can just unpack our suitcases and relax? Let’s build! What fun!”

Which is why the other day, we were sitting with our friend Amy who is helping us to build said house, and she said “What colour are you thinking for inside?”

I said: “Oh, we’re not fussy, we’ll just bung on some white”.

And then Amy laughed quite a bit and said “What sort of white?” And I said “Oh just the white white”, and then she really laughed, and hit me with the full gamut of white colours.

Don’t be fooled, this is not really white. Well, not plain old standard white anyway.

Because there are many. Many, many. Not only that, they have fractions. That’s right, if you didn’t want the, oh I don’t know the full Lexicon, for instance, you could get the Lexicon ¼, or the ½ half. Not a fan of Lexicon, in any fraction? What about White Dove? Sanctuary? Antique White? White Heron, Chantilly Lace, Swiss Coffee, Snow Day, Cotton Sheets, Chalk White, Snow Leopard, Bancroft White, Whisper White, Crisp Linen? I could go on - and on - and on. I couldn’t, so I rang Angela Mollard, my friend and neighbour on this page who cleverly built her own house, and did much of it herself.

“Angela”, I said, “Help me, there are all these crazy people who think there are millions of white paints out there, but I just want a plain…”

“Wait”, Angela said, “Did you get Lexicon?”, “No”, I said, “I’m still deciding, but the thing is, Ang”… “Because a lot of people like Lexicon ¼, but I think throws some blue, and people will try to tell you Antique White, but it’s a little buttery…”

Later after she stopped talking about French Vanilla, she sent me this text (which I’ve asked her permission to reproduce)…

“Darl, I’m a huge fan of Snowy Mountains Quarter, and I also like Natural White and Caspar White, they are both lovely. But do not under any circumstances, choose Fair Bianca. Ghastly yellow-tail white, clearly named after the not-so-fair ex girlfriend of some paint supremo at Dulux.”

Question: What colour is the trim on these cabinets? Hint: It’s not white.

After I spoke with the Fair Angela, I went back to the colour swatches, which is what we people who design our own homes call bits of cardboard with lots of different colours on them, and I must admit I found myself drawn to the Lexicon - the ¼, not the ½.

But I still don’t really know, what I do know, thanks to Angela is what I won’t be choosing. I won’t be - under any circumstances - choosing Fair Bianca, she’s trouble.

I’M LOVING

Poetry…I’ve been reading some poetry again lately, which is something I often forget to do, and I shouldn’t. We have some wonderful poets in Australia, and if you’re looking for somewhere to start, I love anything by Thuy On. She’s brilliant.