Since April hit, things are really gearing up for wedding season. One of my bridesmaids came back from England to have her bridal shower and she had such a beautiful day for it. We celebrated her day at Harvest on Hudson with bellinis and mimosas (and for me, the entire bread basket, since I had just finished the whole 30).
It really feels like she is living in a movie. She moved to England to be with her love (who started as her best friend) and they have this adorable place in the country side and are getting married and will someday have little blue-eyed babies with adorable british accents. As much as I miss her, I so admire her bravery for going to a new country, far away from all things familiar and starting a new life. Her bold move truly did pay off because looking at her, she is glowing from the inside, out.
YESTERDAY, we went and met with our florist, Melissa. I wasn’t sure what to expect because I (unintentionally) hadn’t really been all that helpful prior to our meeting. I had, of course, tried to send her some pictures of flowers or centerpieces, per her request. However, even those came with a lot of BUTs. But not those colors, not that size, not that spiky thing, not that fancy. My requests weren’t in a diva way (although over e-mail it is quite possible she saw it that way even with my abundance of smiley faces and exclamation points). I just have a vision in my head and there aren’t necessarily pictures of those ideas out there.
As soon as we walked in, after first noticing how warm and welcoming Melissa was, I looked past her and saw a display of roses on the table. I love almost every single flower out there, including some specimens that are probably considered weeds and not flowers. I love all flowers. Except. Roses.
Ok, maybe that is false. I actually love almost every single type of rose, especially modern garden. I do nottttttttttt like the hybrid tea rose (the one you commonly see at your local florist). I think my rejection of this rose comes from the fact that it is seen everywhere and I tend to run in the opposite direction of anything I consider to be the norm or overdone (I initially had this reaction to our honeymoon spot but I could tell M was so excited). I’m not sure what the root of that aspect of my personality comes from but we have done enough dissecting in my previous posts about me as a human so let’s just leave that one for now.
M used to get me this type of rose every single time he got me flowers and I never said a peep because 1. who would argue with their handsome new boyfriend buying flowers? and 2. I figured they must have been his favorite and that was enough of a reason to be happy about them. One day the topic of flowers came up in a group conversation. I think someone was talking about their disdain for carnations and I jumped in to defend. When it came out that I couldn’t stand roses (or that specific type) M looked at me, shocked. Apparently, he had only been getting me those because he saw every other boy buying those and figured it was safe. Now he knows to find the weirdest looking bunch in the group and go for those.
Anyways. I saw the display of roses and realized that perhaps my vague explanation of my vision had caused a big misunderstanding. I slinked over to the chair and tried to find a nice way of saying I didn’t want any of them. I decided to go with the mature approach of blurting out “I love your store! Roses are my least favorite flower of all time!! HAhaha” and then frantically trying to get my pinterest to load with M and her both side eyeing me.
She was a pro though and after showing her a little bit more of what I had in mind, she got it right away. Even my centerpiece idea, which I know had some people confused (and probably worried), she was able to work with me and we played around with ideas until we got it just right. I have total faith that she will deliver my not so clear, not so conventional vision, the day of.
At the beginning, I really wasn’t all that excited about flowers and even questioned whether or not we needed to have them. After meeting with Melissa, I left the building, skipping out like a young school girl.