If you’ve been on Instagram or TikTok in the past, oh, three years, you’ve likely been served a video — or 50 — about true color analysis. In the footage, you’ll find confused, color-hungry folks (usually women) trying to figure out what to wear so that their skin looks glowy, not green. There are stories about the whole thing being a “false promise,” yet the videos persist. Colored drapes fly. Someone gasps. The comments fill with people asking, “Am I too a Winter?”

The promise is seductive: Find your “season,” and suddenly shopping gets easier, makeup looks better, and you’ll stop buying those sweaters that maybe make you look like you have gangrene. But the internet also loves to call things “a scam” — and color analysis has plenty of skeptics. I’ll admit I was one of them. After all, plenty of color analysis critics claim the seasonal categories are arbitrary, the consultants pricey and the results suspiciously subjective.

What gives? Is color analysis a lifesaver, a racket or somewhere in between? And perhaps most important: Am I a True Autumn who belongs in earth tones? I had to find out. So I drove to the leafy Bellevue neighborhood of West Nashville to meet with color analyst Hannah Garber.

Walking in: skeptical but immediately impressed

Garber’s studio looks like the clean, calm, color-coordinated opposite of … my closet. Whereas my wardrobe tends toward “clothing swap/things that were on sale and seemed fine at the time,” her space features neatly arranged fabric swatches in what looks like a thousand different shades. Garber herself is the beneficiary of color analysis; she’s a proud "Winter" and she knows it, rocking a self-proclaimed “Snow White meets Dita Von Teese look I’ll be wearing until I die,” she tells me. And well she should: Those jewel tones make her black hair and great complexion pop. There’s got to be something to it, I think.

Before we start, Garber explains the basics of seasonal color theory. In the modern “true color” system, people are categorized into a seasonal category — Spring, Summer, Autumn or Winter — based on the undertones, contrast levels and overall coloring of their skin, eyes and hair. But it’s also about vibes — some sort of mysterious secret sauce that somehow only color analysts can deduce.

Each season has its own palette and subsections (True Summer vs. Bright Summer, for example). Winters wear crisp jewel tones and rock black and white. Springs get warm, fresh colors. Summers look best in soft, cool hues. Autumns thrive in earthy shades — you get the picture. Garber stresses that the goal isn’t to restrict people here; it’s to highlight the colors that make you look vibrant, naturally.

“It is about being seen,” Garber tells me. “Holistically, authentically.” It’s also about confidence. “Colors are just the tools to take you there.” Garber adds that her goal is to help clients discover the types of shades and contrasts that accentuate their natural beauty: “No trends, no cut and paste. Just you as the main character. And what that unlocks in your daily life is magic,” she assures me.

Garber goes on to explain how certain colors can make someone look rested and clear; others have the opposite effect, pulling shadows under the eyes. I nod politely but wonder, Is it that magic or just bad lighting?

Then the draping begins.

The terrifying power of mustard yellow

I love mustard yellow. I love all kinds of yellow, honestly. But, alas, mustard and I are not to be.

The draping process is oddly hypnotic. I sit, makeup-free, in front of a mirror while Garber holds different colored drapes under my face, one by one. The first few (maybe by design) are very, very bad. A neon apple green. A too-bright fuchsia. An, oh, the yellows! The horror!

In the “wrong” colors, my skin looks dull, with shadows popping up around my mouth and eyes. I fear my teeth will never look white again. The mustard shade actually makes me look more sun-kissed, but in a yucky way — somewhere between a bad bottle tan and jaundice.

Even at my worst, Garber doesn’t make it about “looking bad”; she just lets the colors speak for themselves. She chimes in when something looks “off” or “like I bought the cheap version of that color on Amazon,” but I never feel dissed.

Then, finally, she brings out a blue: a cool and smoky shade she calls “French Navy.” By this point — this is embarrassing to admit — I could cry with relief. I look … pretty. (Like I said, embarrassing.) This, exclaims a delighted Garber, was my “WOW color.”

Apparently, my emotional reaction is the norm. “If you have not laughed, cried or reexperienced a core memory, then you have not had your colors done,” Garber says with a laugh. “Color evokes emotions and memories, just like a fragrance does. Sometimes the change is a nuance, and other times it is so intense it will look like you have an AI filter on!” She adds that she once had a client who nearly fainted when she recognized the change.

I mean, I get it. That blue, after so many disastrous colors, makes my skin look calm and even. And it makes me feel — as ridiculous as this sounds — calm and even. And there are more like it to come: Next to pinky Rose Brown and muted Mushroom, my face looks clearer and brighter, almost like a subtle filter or good makeup had been applied. Was it a placebo effect? Possibly. But it also felt somewhat undeniable. I mean, just look at these photos — the only difference is the cloth color and a swipe of lipstick.

The verdict: my seasonal identity crisis

After a quarter hour of draping, Garber delivers her verdict: I am, officially, a True Summer. What that means: dusty rose and cornflower blue. More mushroom brown. Colors that, I realize, I never buy. Instead, my closet is full of warm yellows and greens purchased during an apparent “maybe I’m an Autumn?” phase of life that has lasted just shy of 40 years. Oops.

Garber shows me my palette card, a handheld guide with dozens of approved shades. The good news: I don’t ever have to wear bright colors. Phew. Sure, there are some brighter options on the Summer wheel, but mostly there’s an abundance of soft and dusty shades. My fear that my color analysis results would be incompatible with my personality was unfounded.

The bad news: My beloved black leather jacket is on the to-toss list. Garber is chill about it, telling me I absolutely don’t need to ditch it; I can just pair it with some more skin-supporting shades. I do, however, need to lose my favorite black eyeliner, she decrees.

The internet debate: scam or secret weapon?

Online, opinions about color analysis are passionate. Some people swear by it, saying it transformed how they shop and helped them feel more confident in photos. Others argue that the seasonal categories are overly rigid and that people should simply wear whatever they like.

After trying it for myself, I suspect the truth lives somewhere in between for most people. Who hasn’t bought clothing that looked great on the hanger but life-draining when actually worn? Color analysis can’t fix bad tailoring or a questionable trend choice, but it can explain why certain shades seem to work better than others.

But color analysis isn’t magic. It won’t suddenly make every outfit incredible. And the seasonal labels can feel a little personality-quizish — like astrology for sweaters. But the underlying concept is hard to ignore.

“This is a tool kit,” Garber reminds me, “to eliminate decision fatigue and frustration in your closet and shopping experiences. This is information that lasts an actual lifetime.” And you can take what you need and leave the rest. “No one is going to issue you a fashion police ticket if it is not ‘perfect,’” she says. “Tools not rules! Better over perfection.”

The surprise wasn’t learning that I’m apparently a Summer. It was realizing how little attention I’d paid to color, period, since I was a child. Now I’m perusing Poshmark for mushroom hues, and Garber and I even found cornflower-blue suede loafers that are identical to a pair I wore constantly in first grade. I remember pairing wild socks with leggings and wearing different-colored hair clips that brought me joy. Seven-year-old me knew how to style. But, like so many adults, I started shopping based on price, fit and only the vaguest sense of what’s “on trend.” Color became an afterthought.

Not anymore! I’m not about to purge my closet or swear off black (c’mon, I’m from New York). But the next time I’m debating between a yellow sweater and a blue one, I know which direction I’ll lean. And I’ve already switched up my makeup routine to include brown eyeliner, much to my teenage self’s chagrin, I’m sure.

And if TikTok serves me yet another color analysis video? I’ll probably still watch it, mesmerized — and this time as a proud member of Team Summer.