Brown paper packages tied up with strings
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Silver white winters that melt into Springs
(Oscar Hammerstein II, ‘My favourite things’)
Sophie tired of the miracles and checked on her bundle in the white wicker bassinet; she lifted it out and brought it to her chest. The boy stared fixedly at Sophie until she looked down and noticed a little clump of fine dark hair sticking to her cream cashmere jumper.
(Julia Leigh, Disquiet)
But one day there was a younger woman at the surgery, more slender and well groomed than me. I remember the cream jacket she wore – it came down to her knees and was tied at the waist – and I remember wondering how she could wear that jacket and keep it so clean.
(Gretchen Shirm, Having Cried Wolf, ‘Having cried wolf’)
I’d seen it. Everybody had seen it. It was a rich cream color, bright with nickel, swollen here and there in its monstrous length with triumphant hat-boxes and supper-boxes and tool-boxes, and terraced with a labyrinth of wind-shields that mirrored a dozen suns. Sitting down behind many layers of glass in a sort of green leather conservatory, we started to town.