Troy Evans

Kensington, Australia

Waving from this side of the madhouse. Take umbrage if you will. Actually, I just wanted to say ‘umbrage’.

Something Old.

I have a confession to make.
Although I have roundly professed my love of Black and White photography, I need to say that there are times when only colour will do.

I’m speaking of a very particular kind of colour though. One that unashamedly clashes the red of a woman’s perfectly lipsticked smile with the garish sunny yellow of her matching rain hat and coat. A type of colour that paints ruby slippers on a golden road beneath a baby blue sky.


Vintage colour. Hollywood colour.


Although there has absolutely been a revival of all things nostalgic in the last decade or so, seeing Retrowashing in fierce competition with Greenwashing, there is something about vintage colour which draws a reaction, even from people who have never stayed indoors on a rainy day watching Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe belt out a sassy number.

(P.S. there’s nothing wrong with that. And besides, I learned some good dance moves.)

If Black and White shows the word for what it is (albeit beautifully), then vintage pastel tones perhaps show it for what we all secretly hope it will be. The kind of colours that inspire strangers to come together in song, the paper boy suddenly linking arms with the usually grumpy milkman, both of them showing a surprising aptitude for tap-dancing.

I have high hopes of one day producing some images to rival the ones shown here for sheer unadulterated kitch. And if you have some of your own, please, please can I see them?

Journal Comments

  • bellmusker