IMOGEN STAINES - 19 APR 2021

The Luscher Color Test and your low self esteem: a match made in hell

A narrative poem by Imogen Staines

It was the year Drive came out and I didn’t turn off A Real Hero by College and Electric Youth for months. Even my lectures were soundtracked, thanks to the small wonder of a single earphone.

Picture it: self-hatred in a Top Gear T-shirt and cherry red Doc Martens.

This one time, we went to Peter’s house for margaritas and did the Lüscher Color Test.

OK. Blue first, I guess. Then black. Then…

Oh, the game stops as soon as you place the black card down? Sorry, I didn’t realise.

Fuck, please don’t look at me like that. Can I go again?

But that’s your personality, baby, sweetie, you sensitive freakshow.

So I’ve got depth of feeling and… yeah, just nothing else.

Can I have another margarita, please?

A small comfort then and a skincare tip now: three drops of Estée Lauder’s Advanced Night Repair on my beautiful face at the end of each sucker-punching day.

Mercifully discredited. Not ANR, mind. That still works a treat.

For your reference: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%C3%BCscher_color_test