Violas, violins, and cellos. My voices. I'm violet Purple. I'm quiet and classy, difficult and versatile. Provided you don't go and cry bad luck and misfortune. If you are that sort, please go, and close the door behind you. Those who like amethysts, and the scent of freesias, who are not afraid of a few darker bars of Persian music, are welcome to stay.

Velvet and silk suit me, I believe, and the softest wools, and ostrich plumes, and powder, and the great Marlene, crooning in her gravelly voice. Granted, you won't wear me to go shopping at the mall, but please, please, please: no funerals! Either you love me or hate me. That's me: no bargaining with Purple. If you like me, you love me, don't you?

Granted again, I won't go everywhere, I'm not easy to please, thank you very much! Sometimes, but not too often, I'll flood some sunset clouds, provided I can have proper golden linings, and then I know I make for a breath-taking sight. I am, I'll have you know, a clever color, and no, not a snob, as I hear you muttering. You don't believe me? Think of a shiny eggplant, or the hues of a turnip at the grocer's. See? You didn't see this coming, did you? You could have thought of eggplants, but turnips, rabbit's food… come on!  You'll find me in a lawn, in the form of flower-bells, but I also paint orchids. Why, if you mind your shades and soil, you can even coax your hydrangeas to blossom purple.
And if you are asked for a tea-party, bring twenty candied violets to your hostess. If you want, you may add some brown marrons glacées: we go well together.

At the end of the day, though, the ones I feel closest are the purple violets, hidden along ditches and in the dew under the garden walls. May I offer you some? The gentlest scent and taste!