How did I become a florist?

The number one question I'm asked.

Being a florist has been a part of my identity for years. Decades, even. When I spent my 20s, working in marketing, I still held on to this identity. It just felt like part of who I was. But it actually happened by accident.

When I was fourteen there wasn’t a job I particularly dreamed of. I’d spent younger years wanting to be a hairdresser, but when no one allowed me to actually take scissors to their hair I just lost interest. So when my secondary school told us we would spend a week doing work experience I wasn’t particularly fussed about what I’d do.

I loved music and so I tried to secure a spot at my favourite music shop, and then when that failed I tried a different shop. No luck again. Eventually I just copied my friend. She wanted to work in social care when she was older, so she had chosen a retirement home. They could fit me in too.

Thankfully, this fell through. My friend still managed to do her work experience at the retirement home, but I needed to find an alternative. A teacher stepped in and at the very last minute managed to find a flower shop that would take me on.

Before I even started I got a good feeling. My grandparents had owned a garden centre and my Grandma talked of flowers and plants so fondly; she was ecstatic when I told her about my work placement.

On day one I was a bag of nerves. I don’t remember if I got the bus there or if my dad dropped me off. He worked at a garage just around the corner. I don’t even remember being shown around the shop or being introduced to the staff. But I do remember, on the third day, when I was sweeping the floor and thinking to myself: Wow, I really love this.

I peppered the staff with questions. What flower is this? What flower is that? How do you make a bouquet? Can you teach me?

By the end of the five days I was smitten. I’d mainly spent the week sweeping, cleaning buckets and writing out card messages for the bouquets. But just being around flowers is good for the soul.

Fourteen year old Sarah was very much a hustler. So I asked the manager for a job. The owner’s daughter was currently their Saturday girl, they had no other vacancy. They would keep me in mind though.

A few months later, during drama class, a member of the admin team came to get me. There was a phone call for me. The flower shop had lost my contact details but remembered what school I had attended. The owner’s daughter was heading to university so there was now a position available for me.

I had a group of five close friends. We were all very different, but our love of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was an anchor for the group. There’s one episode where Buffy makes a joke about florists.

Buffy: He even has that test to see if you're crazy that asks if you ever hear voices or you ever wanted to be a florist.
Willow: Oh, I used to want... Wait. Florist means crazy, right? I never wanted to do that.

My friends all thought it very fitting and very funny that I now worked in a flower shop.

Every Saturday was then spent in the flower shop. The first thing I was taught was how to condition flowers. I was also handed a ‘Dutch book’. I’m not sure if these still exist, but they were tiny, pocket sized catalogues of all the flowers you were able to order from the wholesaler. I was encouraged to flick through it regularly so I could learn all the flower names.

During peak times (Valentine’s, Mother’s Day, Christmas) I’d be given extra shifts. Eventually I spent lots of school holidays at the flower shop. I felt at home there. Over the years I was taught how to gift wrap flowers, how to make bouquets, wreaths, buttonholes, coffin sprays. By sixteen I was helping with weddings.

I loved it. But I didn’t see it as a viable career. I was paid a pittance. My love of reading, writing and being opinionated had grown during my teenage years so I wanted to become a journalist.

Before packing my bags for university though, I took a gap year to attend floristry college. It would be my back up plan. Working in a flower shop paid my way through university and during gaps of unemployment in my 20s I was always able to find a florist to help bridge the gap.

How did I end up returning to floristry in my 30s? I’ll tell you another time.

With love,

P.S. Have you listened to my podcast Flowers & Folklore? The latest episode on thistles is out now. You can find it on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Pocket Casts and lots of other places.