flowers by night ii

Shooting this orchid didn't have quite the same romance as the roses from last week. They felt still and neat. Two things I'm not.

Orchids remind of hotel lobbies from when I was young...the weariness of travel would always dissolve as we got out of a taxi late at night and stepped into a grand lobby where the air wrapped around you so deliciously heavy and warm. New scents and accents, shining marble floors and piano music playing in the background, flowers always. 

Those were the days.

Photo: orchid number two by Rachel Kara 

flowers by night

Buying myself flowers every week this year and having them sit for a portrait. That's my project. Please keep me accountable dear blog and anybody out there who happens upon this. x

Photo: rose number one, Rachel Kara 

Flutter

My varied image sizes may give any design nerds, OCD readers & generally orderly people out there heart palpitations and I am sorry for that but instead of worrying please stop, really soak in this perfect floral mini-series and let your heart flutter for more deserving, romantic reasons

I am so in love with everything Amy Merrick of Emmerson Merrick does. 

If hashtags were relevant on blogger I would #weddinginspiration. 

Photos: Amy Merrick 

The Flower Market

I like doing nice things with Hannah. We dream a lot about the same kinds of things and when we finally live out these things they never disappoint. Here she retells our last Friday together....

"Last week we went to heaven, and it was only 35 minutes outside of Sydney's centre. Actually, it didn't seem like heaven at first, not with that early morning start, those drooping eyelids, that frenetic rush to throw on a handknit sweater and some strappy sandals while the car waited outside. It didn't seem like heaven without coffee. Maybe that 5 am wake up call wasn't worth it after all, we thought, arms crossed as we crested the highway. And then... No pearly gates, no shining, godly light, no crown of clouds. Just a surly parking attendant demanding $8 and a veritable army of forklifts, speeding across the parking lots laden with a treasury of fresh produce. 

A park was found, a path was navigated, and there we were, standing in the soaring confines of the Sydney Flower Markets. 

It was peonies first. Swelling proudly on the right and the left, more than we had ever seen, shy as a schoolgirl. Pink and purple and the cleanest, purest white, stained with red at the very tip of the bud. Then there were the roses, (oh, the roses!), in every colour imaginable - and some better left unimagineable, blue roses we think not - smelling like turkish delight and Sundays.

Flowers, so many flowers, grouped in buckets and wrapped in plastic or bundled with twine in cardboard boxes, filling the room with secret smiles and quietly disbelieving headshakes. We swooned over the field-like spread of hibiscus, the wily, tough bunches of natives, the stalks of sweetpeas, proud and vain (and why wouldn't you be, if you looked like that?) that were so popular with the bridesmaids and wedding planners sweeping through the warehouse in a cloud of Jo Malone grapefruit. 

It's all too much and we step away, wandering in and out, breathing in greedy gulps of fresh air before resurfacing amidst the flowers, grasping at bunches we want to take home, grasping at everything we find beautiful, which is to say, everything. 

In our imaginations heaven would have been cleaner. There wouldn't have been crushed stalks on the floor or muddy puddles of tepid water or tacky peace-sign emblazoned wrapping paper. But. Perhaps this is what makes heaven truly heaven? The heat, the short tempers, the sellers who wink and whistle. Paradise shouldn't be perfect, think how tiresome that would be? It's enough - so much more than enough - that the flowers are."

Photos: Rachel Kara
Words: Hannah Rose Yee

a garden party

It was sister 1's birthday yesterday, for which she had envisioned a garden soiree.
In the lead up I was picturing myself all braids and garden wreaths, creamy skin and flushed rosy cheeks, muted flower toned dresses, nude sandals, all very soft and whimiscal - a big, but desired step away from my unofficial uniform of jeans, tee and button ups.
Having just moved into our new home it's a hot mess of boxes and last minute bit's and pieces so cleaning, organising (ie hiding sh*t in places that won't be seen by guests) and decorative preparations left only 10 minutes for personal preparations. I ended up fresh out of the shower with a side plait, makeup of no such description, in an old floral number with a sheer white tshirt underneath a tied up pale pink shirt and my beat up converse...it was far from what I had imagined but very close to what I had predicted...that's just me and I think I'm ok with it.

See rest of this stunning Flowergirl ediorial here.

Photos: Signe Vilstrup for Elle Denmark May 2011 feat Julie Rode, Maria Palm Lyduch + Solveig Mørk Hansen

shots

I don't even like flowers that much but I find myself ALWAYS taking photos of them.

Photos: Rachel Kara

ETA: Unknowingly featuring the lovely Nicole of Ampersand & Ampersand !