I don’t wear orange. Peach—perhaps; coral—risky; sienna—within consideration, but pure orange? The color of carrots and pumpkins, ubiquitous in autumnal decoration and street signage? Absolutely not. To be clear, no trauma accompanies my orange-phobia. Rather, the conspicuous gap between red and yellow in my color-coordinated closet comes from a vague place of aesthetic criticism: simply…