Flowers, again
I tried not being a florist.
As a strong-headed 17 year old I decided that I wouldn’t pursue a career in floristry. I worked for a man who paid his all female team of florists very little money. I knew it wasn’t compatible with the lifestyle I wanted. So after finishing my BTEC in floristry I packed my bags for university and tried to leave the flowers behind.
But it never really worked. Every summer and winter break I’d find myself back at the flower shop. Whilst meeting new people at uni I’d introduce myself as a florist, I’d find ways to talk about it
I kept being drawn back to the flowers.
Every year, for the last four years, I held a Christmas party in my home. I would buy rich, red poinsettias and forage for prickly holly and trailing ivy. On top the of the fireplace I’d make a showstopper of an arrangement. I kept a toolbox of floristry supplies for occasions like this. However, in 2020 due to lockdown, I couldn’t host my party. I was already facing my first ever Christmas apart from my family, the thought of not being able to see my friends and lavish my flat with foliage, was heartbreaking.
So I put out a post on my Instagram Stories asking any local friends if they would like to club together to order some wreath making supplies. I offered to organise a workshop on Zoom and would deliver all the materials they needed to their doorsteps. Planning the workshop really planted a seed in me. It felt so natural to be organising it and when friends said I should be charging for it, I brushed it aside. Not really allowing myself to believe it could be my job.
The workshop was a huge success. The seed had been planted.
The really turning point, however, was in April. I’d long ago made a pact with my Grandma that when she passed away I would make her a heart shaped arrangement of pink carnations, her favourite flowers. A florist friend I’d met at Broomfield Hall ordered me in the pink carnations and let me use her workshop. I’ve never taken so much care over one arrangement. I wanted it to be perfect. It just felt so natural to be picking up a pair of floristry scissors and working with familiar flowers again. I told Nadia, a kickass Derbyshire-based florist, that I wasn’t happy with my career, that I missed flowers and I didn’t care for full time employment. My Grandma used to tell me regularly how content and happy she was with her life, I wasn’t sure I could say the same thing about my own life.
Not unkindly Nadia told me I needed a kick up the bum. She said it in a much nicer way.
She was right though. I was much more capable than I was allowing myself to be. For too long I had been believing the story that I couldn’t make a living from floristry.
And here we are, I’m a florist again. Except, I never really stopped being a florist.
