Photo of Millennial Pink by Bobby Finger.

Recently the Big Three—that’s color industry lingo for “Paint, Ink, Digital” (formerly known as the “Big Two”)—has embraced a faded reddish hue known by names like Pale Dogwood, Tumblr Pink, Rose Quartz, and—most notoriously—Millennial Pink. And writers have been fascinated by color’s universal appeal and sudden rise to prominence.

But what began late last year as a series of amusing and innocuous observations about the color’s prevalence in fashion, cultural ephemera, and the brand identities of startups with largely millennial audiences has evolved into one of the hottest discussions on the internet.

Millennial Pink is being treated as a plague by some, and an inescapable fact of life by others. But even though the internet is overcrowded with conversations surrounding its ubiquity, the color has not been given the opportunity to respond to her recent spike in fame until now.

In an exclusive chat with Jezebel, the world’s hottest hue—who, by the way, goes by Rosalyn—said she was “initially overjoyed” by her sudden return to fame (“I’m my own favorite color, after all”), but that the “onslaught of vicious haters” has been “surprising, to say the least.”

During a chat with Rosalyn over the phone Tuesday morning, she said:

“Being written about with such passion—and occasional vitriol—is definitely a new experience, but I’m trying to make the most of it. Look, I’ve been doing my thing in the Big Three for long enough to know that everyone in this industry comes and goes. All of us [colors] have. People loved having me in their homes and on their bodies in the 80s, they shunned me and my faded brethren in the 90s, and now the pendulum is nearing the last moments of its latest swing in my favor. And that’s fine. I expect to be loved again just as I fully expect to be hated again. What I never expected, however, was to be the subject of incisive essays on color theory. I find that just, forgive my language, exceedingly fucking bizarre.”

When I asked if she thought her fame would last, she seemed laughed.

“You’re too young to remember this, but a dear friend of mine named Maxine was everywhere in the 30s. Painted on every wall and upholstered to every piece of furniture. Sewn into every kind of clothing. Bound to the pages of every book. Where is she now? A handful of startup logos no one’s ever heard of. For a while she had the Portland airport, but even that’s gone now. What I’m saying is that the mighty always fall, just as they’ll always rise.”

It’s a refreshing outlook, and one that made me stop and appreciate the color’s current—and, if past is precedent, fleeting—popularity. “To be honest, I’m counting the days until DayGlo comes back,” Rosalyn told me near the end of our chat. “I need a break.”