The Poetry and Power of Flowers
I happened upon a magical floral shop in Paris and it reminded me of my journey.
Yes, I was running late to an appointment, but when flowers call out to me, I cannot resist.
Also, this is not an ad, just a hat tip to some folks who’ve elevated the typical florist shop to something more akin to a real moment, something to be experienced, something that had the surprising effect of actually moving me.
As a self-taught florist and event designer, I know what it means to deliver a high level of Oh la la. As someone who grew her own business from literally nothing to creating extremely interesting weddings and parties for years and years, it reminded me of the passion that kept me going and of the everyday hard work that was involved in staying afloat and moving forward.
This beautiful little boutique is called Fragrance. At first the name tripped me up, since in French, the word “fragrance” would likely be translated as parfum. So I wasn’t sure exactly how to pronounce it (watch the video I’ve linked down below for the “right” way).
Anyway, this is a lovely spot to pick up a gift bouquet or a unique vase or candle. Or simply to wander around with your eyes—and nose—wide open to take in all the magic. I kept saying to the two women who were assembling airy, feathery bouquets, “Mais c’est trop joli,” (it’s too pretty).
For me there’s just something so joyous about walking home with a big parcel of ripe blossoms in your arms. There were many years when I was starting out that I could only look in the window. I couldn’t afford a whole bouquet.
So at Fragrance I indulged in an armful, because after years of hard work creating businesses and becoming the woman I am today, I already knew the lyrics to the Miley song. I had written those words on my own heart the first time I realized I could stand on my own two feet and take care of myself: “I can buy myself flowers,” I’d said.
I live for stumbling upon pretty places, and Paris is legendarily full of them. Fragrance happens to be in a very cool neighborhood, super close to Merci, the gorgeous Parisian concept store that is a must-see. There are lots of great shops and small restaurants and bars in this lively, artsy area, which borders both the 3rd and the 11th arrondissements.
Notes I wrote to myself in my journal:
You can buy yourself flowers. And you should.
You can say, “Je suis désolée d’être en retard. Les fleurs étaient trop belles.” (I’m sorry for being late. The flowers were too beautiful.) It’s a valid excuse.
The next flower you see, look at it deeply. Examine its petals and all the details of its stem, its leaves, its magic. Turn it in your hand, brush it against your skin. This seeing, this observing, is poetry.
Bonne continuation les amis,
Karen