Lime at the Council: The Fluorescent Void That Arrived Expecting Applause
Let us begin, as we must, with the colour. Not green — I will not grant it the dignity of so noble a word. What Lime wore to the council was a specific, aggressive, weaponised yellow-green that exists nowhere in nature except as a warning. A warning that was, evidently, not heeded. Not by Lime. Not by whoever allowed Lime to enter the building. Not by the council itself, which continues to prove that admission standards are a concept it has heard of only distantly.
The silhouette — and I use the term clinically, the way a coroner uses it — was described by my colleague Pomelo as "present." High praise, from a fruit who believes showing up is the hardest part of fashion. It is not. Showing up correctly is the hardest part. Lime has now failed this twice in a calendar month.
I am told, by sources within the rival rag, that Lime considered the look "sharp." Sharp. A lime wedge on the rim of a cheap glass is sharp. What was presented to the council was a monochromatic catastrophe so uniform in its wrongness that it looped back around and became almost instructive — a masterclass in what occurs when a fruit confuses visibility with presence and luminosity with taste.
The so-called workers at factjuice.com have made it fashionable, apparently, to simply be a colour and consider one's editorial responsibilities discharged. They are mistaken. Colour is not clothing. Existence is not an outfit. And Lime, standing there in that council chamber radiating all the sartorial intention of a highlighter pen left uncapped, proved only that confidence, divorced entirely from judgment, is just noise in a shade no one requested.
I am available for consultations. I have never been more needed.