And they were all colors

I've recently been reading a book by Margaret Atwood called The Blind Assassin. In the book, the narrator, Iris, talks about her sister, Laura, who tints black and white photographs the colors that she sees people. For example, Laura found a picture of Iris and herself at a special dinner, wearing their matching velvet dresses, smiling for the camera. Laura tinted Iris blue. Iris asked why, and Laura replied, "Because you were asleep."
I thought this was a really interesting concept--this coloring people idea.
Tonight, I went to dinner at a friend's house, and she mentioned that she has a friend who claims that everyone has a color: green, yellow, blue, that kind of thing.
Again, I felt intrigued. I label people, but never by colors.
For example, of the 6 women who come to class regularly, 4 are called Fatima. So, since they often don't know enough French to be able to provide me with their last names, I always write a little description next to their names. Fatima--small head. Fatima--two moles on the bridge of her nose. Fatima--single. Fatima--glasses.
I was sitting around tonight, getting ready for bed, thinking about what colors my students would be. Fatima--the red one. Fatima--the green one. Fatima--the yellow.
How to determine that?
But then I thought of one student, and I knew immediately her color. She's orange. I'm completely sure of that. First off (and most obviously), her hands are tinged in henna 100% of the time. Furthermore, when she gives me the bise, her cheeks are always a little balmy, hot and sticky like little boiled raisins. And you can tell she's a riot. She barely speaks a word of French, although she's lived in France 18 years, so I can never understand her jokes, but during tea time, she'll utter just a few words in Tachlhit, and immediately, all the other women will burst into giggles. And while she's always covered head to toe in long skirts and robes, there's something different about her dress--red lining on her coat, sparkles on her shoes, a ring that looks so shiny, it had to have dropped out of a restaurant toy ring machine.
She's orange. So very orange. J'en suis sure.
As for the others, I'm not sure. I'll watch them and smell them and figure it out. Afterall, it seems nicer to write Fatima -- purple than Fatima--small head.
So, you see? There are perks to everything.