A Seashell Named Ramon

Who never came home.

It was 2019. A family beach trip to Bainbridge Island, Washington — gray sky, gray rocks, gray shore. The kind of Pacific Northwest day that asks nothing of you but to enjoy the wonder and oneness of it all.

I was walking along the beach and among many clam shells I saw one. Laying on its back. Belly up. The interior was the softest, smoothest, densest talcum white I had ever seen — being its own light. Not bouncing it back like a mirror. But holding it. Glowing from inside, like a small lighthouse in the middle of all that gray.

It was the kind of white I grew up with.

I heard that shell call my name.

Yes, shells talk.

I thought about being a kid in Puerto Rico, and all the times I picked up conch shells and listened to the ocean sound inside of them. Day trips to the shores of Isla Verde with my grandparents. Coming home with pockets full of seashells. But only one had a name.

Ramon.

Something about Ramon had to be special because my family began to joke about his escapades. Sneaking out late at night. Hitting the tavern down the street. Coming home in the small hours — the Puerto Rican lore Bad Bunny sings about, staying up all night celebrating life with abandon. Like an elf on a shelf, I always knew he'd had a great night when I found him lying on his back in the morning. Face up. Caught.

Just like that Bainbridge clam.

I brought that shell home.

When it came time to develop my new paint formulations, I knew exactly what I wanted. That calcium richness. That bone-white. That limestone quality — the spark of light sitting quietly in the middle of a gray sky and gray shore. Getting there required a completely new recipe. Something super soft and smooth while also super strong and durable.

That was the inspiration for CB Powder Seashell Matte Finish. Wall colors that look like they came from the shallow shores of the Caribbean Ocean — perfectly honed over millions of years, without trying. I called the formula The Spark. Seashell.

Ramon would approve.

The limestone white behind Seashell has a deeper history — one that goes all the way back to the walls of Old San Juan.

The Color That Saved Old San Juan →

If this sparked something — I'd love to hear about it. Share your story in the comments, tag us with #ColorBaggage, or write to frontdesk@colorbaggage.com.

From my bag to yours,
G