On being a student florist

employment, Floristry, PhD, Stress

I was heard to mutter, as I left class this evening, that doing a PhD is easier than becoming a florist.   Correction.   A floristry assistant.  Those who were remained in the class thought I was being melodramatic and anxious about my paid trial for a job tomorrow.  This is partly true, but I meant my comment seriously.

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Bouquet with delphiniums, green carnations, white rose and some very mixed foliage. Photo by the author.

Starting over in any new field is faintly terrifying.  Most of the time I handle this with aplomb, but not currently.  I’ve got the full trifecta happening.  Job hunting, final assessment, and PMT.  These things should never happen in a sentence, let alone an actual real human being’s life.  The worst thing is that knowing it’s your hormones fucking you round doesn’t make them stop fucking you round.

The bouquet above is one of this evenings efforts practicing for our grad show.  In addition to this, we also have to display a hair piece, corsage, buttonholes and table centrepiece.  It’s OK.  I can do it.  But I would seriously find it easier to sit down and write several thousand words on, say the history of Australian policies on native vegetation protection than it is to pull this off.  If you’ve been accepted into a PhD it means you’ve already attained a high level of skill with words and concepts.  This is completely useless in floristry, because you can’t write a breathtakingly beautiful bouquet into existence.

Floristry is more than learning a new language or discipline.  It’s all very well to learn colour theory, but an entirely different process to pull it off in practice.  Flowers are real.  They have likes and dislikes, and they’re not shy about them.  I thought that silvery olive foliage would be a brilliant choice for this bouquet, but actually when it came to it, it was stiff, ungainly and ugly.  I threw most of it in the bin.  Earlier today I tried a vertical parallel arrangement, which I’d missed somehow through the year.  You’d think that grouped flowers in lines would be easy.  It’s not.  And I have the photo which shouldn’t be shared to prove it.

Let me deconstruct this bouquet in the way that I might pull apart an chapter or an essay.  What I have done well is the colour.  Soft green, muted blues, touches of silver and plenty of foliage is a combination that works well.  It gets a tick on our brief for muted and gentle colours.  It is quite soft, romantic and unstructured. But, the fern is too prominent, as is the rice flower.  There should be a balancing third piece.  I’ve left the roses too deep.  More eryngium more evenly placed.  Should I include some wired ageratum?  Green bells?  And so on…

I’m worried that my anonymous assessor will not perceive the story behind the contrast of this bouquet and my chosen wedding dress.  I’ve chosen a very unadorned thirties style sleek silk satin number.

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Sleek dress, and an bouquet that is the exact opposite.  Together, I hope they will make an understandable unity.

Meanwhile, the only sensible option is sleep.

 

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