The Wonderful World of Color Schemes

Come to think of it, Disneyland has meant more to me than rides and characters since I was a child. I've been noticing the art on display there since middle school at least. One of the facets that always stood out to me was the iconic color schemes of certain attractions. We're talking, I would get bored in class and start doodling in those signature colors, because it reminded me of the park. (When I wasn't trying to draw the attractions outright, that is.) We're talking, if those particular combinations showed up anywhere else, it would give me the warm fuzzies.

So I figured I'd gush about them here, for your amusement. I may or may not have anything insightful to say about how the colors work on psychological level—that aspect was largely lost on me, for whom the Disneyland! connection overrode anything else.

“it's a small world”

Nowadays, as when it first opened, the “it's a small world” façade gleams in white and gold, with a dusting of steely silver glitter on the numerals and cogwheels. For about ten years, from the early 90s to the early 2000s, it was a melange of candy pastels.* But when I was little, it was white...and gold...and pale blue:

That combo is where my nostalgia lies. White and gold (or yellow) and pale blue—the colors of a springtime sky, bright sun sharing the space with fair-weather clouds. I still react positively to those three colors in combination, because I have been so fond of the ride for so long. You actually don't see all three together that often—it is more common to pair white and/or gold with a dark or bold shade, for contrast. So the association with the ride remains intact and unsullied.

In all honesty? I hated the candy pastels, specifically because they disrupted my image of the façade. I was thrilled when it went back to all white, even though I didn't get the blue back.

Alice in Wonderland

There are actually several color combinations that automatically remind me of this ride. The first can be found in those oh-so-distinctive Mary Blair leaves that adorn the exterior and queue:**

Pink, jade green, and lavender—a very “girly” palette, to be sure, but it's certainly stylish. Each of the three hues comes in one darker and one lighter shade (though they're all pretty pastel), mixed and matched almost at random across the various shapes of the leaves.

Oddly, I think—and would appreciate it if someone can confirm or deny—that the lavender is a relative latecomer to the color scheme. The pink and green were the ones that impressed themselves on me when I was young, though with only one or two visits to the park per year, I am certain I missed details.

The green seems to be emblematic of the ride overall—it is used as the background for the attraction poster and also appears on some of...the caterpillar cars!

There are six-count-'em-six separate color schemes used on the caterpillars, and I love them all. No one else would ever do anything this hideous, so as with the “it's a small world” combo, they only remind me of the ride:

Disney? Do you want all my money? Produce a set of ribbon trims that mimic the appearance of the caterpillar colors—maybe an undulating line with one shade above and the other below, and the eyespots on the lower color. I'll buy them all. I don't even care that I have no idea what I would do with them at this point in time. Few things make me happier than your Merchandising division recognizing the worthiness of the unique design in Disneyland Park, Anaheim, CA.

But while we're on that subject...

Mad Tea Party

What's a gal gotta do to get some merch of her own Teacups around this place? Souvenir kitchenware always seems to emulate the designs on Orlando's Teacups, and it irks me not only because our version gets ignored, but because ours are just prettier. Compare:

 Clean lines, sensible colors, lovely

Angry jagged lines, nonsense colors, eyesore

The ironic tidiness of our Mad Tea Party designs always pleases me. Eighteen cups, with nine color schemes, each one different values of one hue with antique gold accents. The designs cover all four playing card suits (heart, club, diamond, spade) and five floral motifs (tulip, orchid, daisy, two different five-petaled flowers), and each decorated cup has a solid-colored mate.

It's just...I mean...duh? Why not sell these, perhaps in matching pairs, so people can collect them all, or choose the ones that complement the rest of their dishes, or whatever their heart desires?

Why does Orlando always get fronted as the “main” park?

Why am I so petulant about this?

Big Thunder Mountain

“Big whoop, Dilettante,” you say. “It's just mimicking Southwestern sandstone. There's nothing unique about it.”

Yes there is, shut up.

See, the shape makes a difference. Not only is the shape of Big Thunder Mountain distinctively lumpy and instantly recognizable, but the shape naturally affects the way light falls on it, which affects the colors. It's not identical to the sandstones it emulates; it's its own thing. I've never seen anything quite like it.

Equally unique is the intense red-orange-copper of the “penny pools”*** in the queue area, of which I tragically cannot find a good photo. I assume the color is from some kind of dye, but why is it there? Is it to suggest rich mineral resources in the surrounding rocks, leaching into the water? Is it just the right look for the setting?

This seems like as good a time as any to open the floor: What unique color schemes at Disneyland turn your head?

* The pastel color scheme is what it bore when It's a Small World Holiday debuted, and the colors of the lightbulbs still echo those hues.

** It's strangely harder to find really good photos of the leaves than you might think. Not many people tend to take pictures focusing on them in and of themselves, and the colors tend to wash out or “blue out” in all but the best of lighting conditions.

*** Or whatever you call small bodies of water that people throw change into but that are not designated wishing wells/fountains.