A Shade Confused About The 96-Color Crayola Pack

THERE was a time, before second grade and the macroeconomics of baseball cards, when untold wealth consisted of a Crayola 32-pack. Its possessors would swagger right up through recess, and privately hope that nobody would ask them to define "burnt umber."

Then came inflation.

In 1958, Binney and Smith - makers of Crayola crayons, the people who are to children what Revlon is to fashion models - came out with a Crayola 64-pack. This automatically provided even more status, although it made it harder to swagger; in fact, kids carrying one were in some danger of falling over.

Now, for 1993, Binney and Smith is offering a 96-crayon Crayola pack - the elementary-school equivalent of the Reagan military build-up. To get an idea of the scope here, remember that Michelangelo did the entire Sistine Chapel with only 48 crayons, and he didn't have cornflower.

In fact, there are so many colors that Binney and Smith is running out of names. For the first time, the color colossus is running a contest, asking people to provide titles for 16 of the new colors.

And before you go running to the mailbox, remember that the 64-pack already includes mulberry, dandelion and raw sienna.

So much for your first ideas.

The way I see it, the whole thing is a pretty rotten trick on the part of Binney and Smith. Color is a tricky enough issue in this country without people thinking up new shades that don't even have names.

Years ago, Binney and Smith was forced to abandon its crayon labeled "flesh," after people pointed out that flesh comes in more than one color. The company discovered that when someone referred to "people of color," he did not mean people who made crayons. You might say there are different shades of enlightenment.

The delicacy of this new assignment has not discouraged entrants to the contest, which is open until Aug. 31. According to Brad Drexler, spokesman for the Easton, Pa., company, Binney and Smith already has received 15,000 responses and is getting another 200 every day.

Winners in this contest have a chance at enormous influence. Binney and Smith sells 2 billion crayons a year, making it one of the top companies in child nutrition.

So far, promising contenders include lots of colors never imagined at the time of the 32-pack. Among the nominees are Rain Forest Green, Murphy Brown and Bush Green - which, Drexler suggests, was clearly submitted by a Republican, although there have also been offers of Clinton Gray.

Nobody has suggested a bright red called Clinton Gore.

Still, the idea is there. At this point, it's time for Binney and Smith to look beyond colors that occur in nature and start using the subtler shades that occur in society.

For example, they might try Deficit Ink Red. While most colors fade, this one would just get deeper and deeper.

If the company's technology allowed, Binney and Smith could appeal to the environmental market with Corporate Green. This crayon would have a thin layer of green on the outside, with deep brown all the way through.

California Sky Blue would really be a rather tasteful gray, flecked with alarming shades of yellow. Out of 96 crayons, it's worth having one that the buyer shouldn't try to breathe while using.

Blue-Ribbon Panel Blue: The perfect crayon to use for coverups.

It's going to take a lot of colors to make it up to 96, and there's no certainty that the number will stop there. Binney and Smith refuses to promise that there will never be another hue.

But there is still something to learn from an array of 96 crayons - and not just how hard it is to get an unidentified crayon out of a white rug.

"In 1958, when we came out with the 64-color box, kids lived in a black-and-white TV world," points out Drexler. "Now, with color TV and video games, kids are more in tune with colors. Things like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Barney the purple dinosaur help set kids' color agenda. In the crayon business, you have to be in tune with the color agenda."

In other words, kids - or maybe we should call them color agenda setters - are just like everybody else today: bombarded by vastly more input than their brains can classify. Once, the only people overwhelmed by more colors than they could describe had just consumed a funny-tasting sugar cube; today, it can happen to any 5-year-old clicking on an educational software package.

I appreciate the efforts of Binney and Smith to produce some order in a color spectrum run amok. But it's a big job for one company; it's probably going to require a rainbow coalition.

Personally, I think I'd just call them Crayons of Color.

David Sarasohn is an associate editor for The Oregonian of Portland, Ore.