Elephant’s Breath 

In the era of David Attenborough - Mother Nature’s most ponderous representative - it is safe to assume that somebody within the paint-buying household will have seen footage of an elephant panting in the African sun. Perhaps, even, they recall the majesty of a mother rushing to retrieve her touch-too-slow calf from an approaching pack of lions. The heavy breathing of the two animals - united in their reasserted inch into time - breaches your memory as you state aloud ‘Yes! I wish to bathe in Elephant’s Breath’, and days from now, when the time to rise has come,
reach for your towel with the grandeur of a matriarchal Proboscidea. 

Dead Salmon

Salmon, it seems, have entered the pantheon of things most alive and most dead. Their biological exuberance, the frankly ostentatious prancing, the way they provide a source of fun, frustration and food to bears - all of which can be united under a single label: Dead Salmon. Dead because its liveliness killed it. Dead because the bears ate it. Dead because the lice devoured it. Dead because fishermen both Scotch and Canuck feel a live salmon, given its absoluteness, should be a dead salmon.

Mole’s Breath

Through specially adapted red-blood cells, moles re-breathe the air they expel when blindly hunting the creatures that enable them to continue in their vein. Gladly seated on our sofas, we humans, in the fell clutch of Mole’s Breath, repeatedly inhale the heady sense of tunnelling, en famille, towards the cheese and the worms. 

Text Me 

Lest we forget that soon an entire generation, two billion in number, will be wanting to paint their homes. It is, therefore, of great importance to name a paint colour after something recognisable from the rich
flicker, the zippity-do-da, of cyberspace. 

Babouche 

“Darling, I’ve been doing a little bit of thinking. The boot room would look just marvellous in Babouche, and it’ll make us seem devilishly witty, too”

Bone

One, generally speaking, fights tooth and nail under the belief that bone will too partake. It therefore follows that those who wish to encourage dialogue between the self and the skeleton - architects, carcinologists, people with gout, modernists, Victorians, lepidopterists, cannibals - would do well to paint their walls Bone.

Tallow

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good house, must be in want of an
emulsion dripping.

Duck Egg Blue 

And now, the canon. More than just a home for the tasteful halfway, the vogue buttress, the chic straddle; what we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is the middle class’s eigengrau.