As a child, I was told by my mother that “purple is an old woman’s colour” which has probably influenced how I feel about it, harsh, unforgiving and unflattering.
When I first came across the poem years ago it seemed fresh and daring and assertive. But it has become such a cliché that it now sets my teeth on edge.
I came across a group of “Red Hatters” in Waitrose coffee shop some years ago shortly after I had retired and they were very friendly and welcoming - but for me, just too “full on”. I didn’t feel that being of a similar age was enough to form a friendship group, but good luck to those who enjoy their company.