The House of Orange

D.C. Council Member Surrounded by His Signature Color

At a ribbon-cutting for a new home store in downtown Washington recently, Mayor Anthony A. Williams was heard ribbing D.C. Council member Vincent B. Orange Sr.

"Hey, Vince, do you need something for your campaign headquarters?" asked the mayor, nodding toward an orange desk lamp. In the next aisle, Williams pointed out a terra-cotta shower curtain and coral toothbrush holder: "Those would be perfect for you."

And so was revealed what few in the public, press or political arena knew: The man whose name is plastered on 10,000 orange-and-blue "Vincent Orange for Mayor" signs sprouting from utility poles from Anacostia to American University Park has a serious thing for his namesake color.

"Orange really became my trademark when I ran against John Wilson in 1990, and I painted this city orange," says the two-term Democrat from Ward 5 now running in the mayoral primary. "People started getting into it, and I acquired a little piece here and a little piece there. Orange shirts. Orange golf balls. Then my wife started wearing orange and shopping for orange for our house. Then orange became a big color in home design. That was good timing as well."

His 1920s brick Colonial in the Brookland/Michigan Park neighborhood of Northeast is tastefully appointed in traditional Ethan Allen furniture and Oriental rugs, plus splashes of orange. In the living room, spice-colored paisley and embroidered Moroccan pillows pop from the burgundy sofa. A Waterford crystal bowl in swirled shades of tangerine sparkles on the dining room table. There's an orange breakfast bar in the kitchen, and a window valance made from an orange mirrored panel embroidered in India. His closet is filled with orange-striped ties, hanging near a flashy tangerine blazer. The orange candle on the coffee table was a gift from Marion Barry. His favorite recipe: his mom's Orange Jello Cake.

The guy is a walking theme park.

His partner in all things political -- and orange -- is his wife, Gwendolyn Evans Orange, whom he met at Howard University and wed 23 years ago. A literacy coach for D.C. Public Schools, she is primarily responsible for the decor of the home where the couple and their three children have lived since 2000. And, yes, she wears orange quilted jackets and other appropriately hued clothing whenever she can.

"When people come in, they think it's very warm, cozy and welcoming," says Gwen Orange, 49. "We love the look."

The orange theme doesn't quit. Vincent Orange spotted the orange juicer shaped like a giant orange that sits on his kitchen counter at Dwellings, a shop in his Brookland district. The family/exercise room in the back of the house has sofas layered with pillows and featuring Orange's Life Cycle machine, which has an orange stripe. There is an orange drum from Kenya, and orange begonias are in bloom.

Orange, 49, a lawyer and CPA, was first elected to the council in 1998, where he's known for his occasionally over-the-top publicity stunts: He has pumped gas to draw attention to its high cost, and he has made a folksy 10-minute biographical video to show at fundraising events. In speeches, he quotes -- and performs -- from the music of James Brown.

Growing up in California as one of 10 children, "we were the only Oranges around," he recalls. "They tell me the name has a French origin." He had no inkling his name would become his calling card.

"All I remember from back then regarding orange is that we ate a lot of them," he says. In high school, Orange was a running back on his high school football team and fans called him "the Juice."