I'll probably never have a garden (at least not in Manhattan) and I'm not good about purchasing cut flowers. Honestly, I can't stand it when they die.
So for now I get my botanical kicks from the windows of the amazing florists in our neighborhood. Most of these photos were taken with our pocket camera, so the quality isn't great. But they'll give you a sense of the talented eyes of our local florists.
These photos are from VSF, a florist Tsia and I pass on Sundays:
I pass by my other favorite florist on the way from Tsia's preschool to the studio most mornings. Their space is amazing but probably impossible for me to properly photograph. (Hence the lack of photo here.) Plus, it's a rather conceptual storefront; there aren't actually many flowers in sight. Mostly, I think this is because their business involves large events like weddings and parties rather than filling individual phone orders from folks like me.
The watchcat and flowers below are neighbors of Tinsel Trading in midtown. I thought the outdoor galvanized buckets felt rather Parisian and more trusting than your typical New Yorker:
Trouble is, when I order flowers for my Grandma who lives in a city in the Midwest, I always seem to have arrangements from these florists in the back of my mind. I describe them to the best of my abililies, even going so far as to research the various flowers so I can call them by name. I use words like "haphazard," "random," and "wild" to describe the arrangments. I strictly forbid the use of particular elements that feel too common or "flowery" to me.
But my artfully envisioned ranunculus never live up to the aesthetic heights of my dreams, or to what I see in those windows.
I'll keep sending flowers, but I think I need to put my botanical dreams to rest and restrict my artful floral visions to enjoying what I see in the windows.