I took this horticulture class in college that had a section on flower arranging which damaged me for life. So when it came to wedding flowers, I decided to make my own bouquet, sticking with a fairly simple design and not worrying too much about it.
In March I went to this flower market in Oakland and scoped it out. There was plenty of nice stuff, and cheap. I figured this would be a no-brainer. Think again! A week before the wedding I went back to do a trial bouquet, and there was crap there. Like, nothing but bruised and awful flowers, with almsot nothing in pink, which was the colour I needed. I asked a worker if there were better days, and she told me no, during wedding season it was always like this.
Alternating between panick and depression, I drove home with a wilty bunch of flowers to work out a design with, and sulked for a short time. Then I decided to try putting in an order on Freshroses.com. Hey, it might work, and if it didn't, I was no worse off. My worst-case scenario was having to drive in to San Francisco and get flowers at the flower market there, two days before the wedding, which was really not all that bad. Anyway, on Freshroses.com I chose randomly, because I didn't have much time. I certainly didn't have time to do a test run and see what the colours were like. I hoped they would be able to send me something. I ordered pink carnations (the official flower of January babies, and one of my favourites), "bridal pink" roses, pink sweet peas (which turned out to be way too delicate for what I wanted to do), and tuberroses (which turned out to have the most heavenly scent ever). And they delivered! With one week of notice during mid-June, they got me my wedding flowers!
Here were the pictures I liked for flowers:
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I had originally planned to wear a wreath of flowers in my hair, like this photo, but I decided against it because with my floral skills, I would have ended up with a thorn in my scalp. Also, I think I would have looked like a big dork, although the wedding was probably my last chance to wear a wreath of flowers on my head, ever, without looking actually insane.