My husband and I met in the Union County flower business nearly 16- years ago and it is only every once in a while the flower creativity bug bites me again. However, none of these times are during the hectic craze of Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day or when there is a wedding planned.
Truthfully, I also miss my former nickname; the Flower Girl.
I used to design and my husband used to sell so we haven’t gotten each other flowers on special occasions for many years. Knowing the true cost from grower to wholesaler to florist, he just can’t do it.
To this day, I cannot pass a rack of flowers for sale without ensuring each bouquet is sitting in water, I just can’t do it.
The first florist I ever worked for was an old curmudgeon, we’ll call Dana, who was legendary in the business for counting every stem used in her arrangements. I am here to tell you this rumor is true. Dana had a computer system we used to tally up how many flowers were in each arrangement and what kinds before it could be cleared to leave the building.
The first arrangement Dana asked me to design on my own was a funeral arrangement for the store floor. She showed me to the room where she kept her silk florals and then left me to my own initiative.
Having no experience, I felt pretty intimidated as I sat on the lone bar stool in the room, twirling moodily and feeling as though I had been banished to some floral dungeon — from which I might never return should my arrangement be found lacking.
Certain I might find skeletons from past floral designers who hadn’t quite made the cut, I finally began scooping up rosy pinks, vibrant reds, whites, mellow purples — armfuls of silk florals. With nearly ten pounds of wire picks to keep my soon to be blistered hands company, I pushed the stool out of the way, and began twisting and turning wire, poking green rods into styrofoam until a masterpiece stood before me at last.
When Dana returned, my graveside wreath must have met with approval, as she only snorted derisively at it and ordered me to place it on the store floor- somewhere towards the back.
The interior of Dana’s shop is where all the live action occurred and was kept separated from customer’s prying eyes by a wall- the only way in from the store area through a doorway that no longer held a door.
No sooner had I crossed its threshold than the familiar peal of the bells hanging from the store’s front door sounded through the building. Dana gestured dismissively for me to assist the so far unseen customers.
Walking back out into the shop, I greeted a group of individuals who were all crying, and had been for some time by the sight of them. I quickly learned they were in the market for a funeral arrangement. The group pointed to mine and were insistent it would be perfect, they had no need of looking at another one.
Following the $80 sale, and the customer’s departure, Dana came out to ask which one they bought. When she learned they bought mine — her mouth fell open in disbelief.
Quickly regaining her composure, Dana mumbled something about, “There really is no accounting for some people’s taste, is there,” as she wandered away from me.
I think of that moment often — it reminds me to never give up, to never let someone else’s misery define my abilities.
Needless to say, I didn’t remain in her employment long, eagerly moving on to a florist with more business than you could shake a stick at. Even green as I was, that moment gave me the confidence to know I do good work and could, and did, take my talents on “down the road.”
If you ever bought a floral arrangement from any of the hospitals in the area — it just might have been made by yours truly.
When ordering flowers this Valentine’s Day, please be kind to all the florists out there who are just trying to make your day special. It can be an unbelievably stressful time and every rose has its thorns!