For a long time I’ve wanted one of those cozy-looking red and black checked flannel shirts. I’ve studied them in different stores and catalogs and haven’t made the plunge, though my lumberjack persona continues to covet one. Part of the reticence is my coloring — there’s too much pink or red or something in my hair and skin and while I love red, it’s never been a good choice for me, unless it’s very dark — and even then, it has to be absolutely 100% the correct shade. The other night my husband and I were eating out — and even though he is not in the least visually oriented and has no interest in fashion whatsoever — I decided to get his opinion on whether or not I should indulge myself and order the one I saw in the latest catalog. My question to him: Do you think I can wear red? His response was to wordlessly reach over, grab the ketchup bottle on the table and consider, holding it up next to my face. I’m not positive that qualifies as a valid color test.