The palette that occupies the buildings of New York is fairly simple. It’s monochromatic. Black. White. Grey. And New York’s residents reflect this. Once in awhile, there will be a pop of color, but for the most part, the most color in a New Yorker’s wardrobe is neutral tones, such as tan or if we’re getting real fancy here, burnt apricot. Even having lived in New York for only one year, I’ve come to adjust to this palette, with my most colorful piece of clothing being a blue denim jacket.

Florence is different. I knew that studying abroad would mean the immersion into a new culture, from the influence of the very family-oriented community to the realization that take-out isn’t really an option at restaurants — to clarify, Italians like their food fresh, so having leftovers is perceived as weird. However, I did not expect myself to find my eyes adjusting to the pastel pinks that occasionally douse curtains or the rich greens that paint window shutters. The palette of Florence transports me into a Wes Anderson film. Having more color in my life has changed me in different ways. The most colorful piece of clothing in my closet is now a coat that’s as green as the window shutters. Beyond my wardrobe, I find that my mood has improved. I feel less, for a lack of better words, “bleh.” The pastel palette that occupies my surroundings has influenced me greatly, and I’m intrigued to see how else Florence will make its mark on me.