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.

Armchair Imagineering: Color Theory

If you've scrutinized a Disneyland map lately (and if you haven't, why not?), you've probably noticed that the themed lands are color-coded. Each land is assigned a different hue that is applied not only to the numbered circles that mark attraction locations, but the ground in the map image. Color-coding is one of those things that make me unreasonably happy, especially when it works out as neatly as this. I could not improve upon the Disneyland color map if I tried. Each assignment is eminently logical given the themes and motifs of the different areas, and none is repeated.

Here, this map is pretty current:

Main Street, USA is red, a color that brings to mind not only the American flag, but humble bricks, shiny fire engines, and the “red carpet treatment” that Disneyland promises to arriving guests.

Adventureland is green, for the lush jungle foliage.

New Orleans Square is purple, with all its complex associations. Purple is the color of luxury, of exoticism, of supernatural spookiness. It's also one of the principal colors of Mardi Gras.

Critter Country, an earthy sort of land, is an earthy brown—the color of tree bark and forest soil in addition to the fur of most critters.

Frontierland is the orange of raw copper, Southwestern sandstone, and those sunsets cowboys were always riding off into.

Fantasyland is pink, not just because it is arguably the girliest land (with all those Princesses and fairies), but because pink is a gentle, whimsical color. Sleeping Beauty Castle has been painted pink since well before the current onslaught of franchise branding.

Mickey's Tootown, on the other hand, is raucous, blaring yellow—the color of Mickey Mouse's shoes and taxicabs alike.

And finally, Tomorrowland is blue, a crisp, airy color that ranges from the pale tint of the sky through oceanic medium tones to the deepest navy of the outer atmosphere. It pairs well with utopian white and technological chrome.

It's all so spot on and tidy. I am giddy with delight. And it wouldn't work nearly as well without this exact roster of lands. Which leads me to the actual Armchair Imagineering portion of this post: So what about the ninth land? The one currently under construction and expected to open a couple years down the line?

That's right, readers...hold onto your jaws...I am about to speculate as to how to properly integrate the upcoming Star Wars area with the rest of the park...at least as far as the map design is concerned. Everyone loves to Armchair-Imagineer big-budget rides and elaborate shows, but somebody has to stand back here and look after the less glamorous aspects of updates to the park. You're welcome.