When I get asked about my job as a florist I often get the same response. “Oh your life must be like a romantic fairytale” or something of that sort. In reality, things are often more hectic and comedic than romantic.

In the short amount of time that I’ve been emerged in this business I’ve realised that being a successful florist requires a lot of creative sporadicity, but it also requires you to possess killer listening skills for all the therapy sessions you’ll need to provide your customers with

I’ve also learned that every rose has its thorns. Some are more like razor sharp crocodile teeth, and their only mission in life is to lodge themselves deeply into your already overly abused fingertips. And found out that when the latin name for a certain type of flower is translated to “baby’s urine”. There’s usually a good reason why.

So why do I do it? Simply, because I grew to love it. I subconsciously carry the flowers with me wherever I go. When there’s leftovers at the end of creating a marriage bouquet, I often get lost in the moment. Playing around with the colours, the textures and the smells, is in my humble opinion the most underrated antidepressant in the world.

Creativity is freeing, unless you have a micromanaging client that believes he or she is a florist themselves. Like any artist you get to create one-of-a-kind creations. A world of flowers at your fingertips, colours galore, and they’re all there, lying and waiting for you to bring them together into a masterpiece.