In my next life, I'm going to open a flower shop. I can see it so clearly in my mind's eye. A tiny light-filled jewel box of a space, with exposed brick walls, high ceilings and worn wooden floors. I'll spend my days creating lush floral arrangements, plucking flowers from old galvanized tin buckets filled with colorful blooms: pale pinks, brilliant fuschia, shades of white and green, dusky greys, soft yellows and deep violets. Part shop, part studio, part gathering spot, this beautiful florist's atelier will radiate welcome to all who cross the threshold.
An ancient, lime-washed refectory table brought home from travels abroad will anchor the space and serve as my workbench, scattered with petals, wire clippings, scissors and ribbon. Above, glittery glass stars and twinkly lights will hang from the ceiling, twisting in and around curling lengths of grapevine. Simple hand-tied bouquets nestled in clear mason jars will crowd the shelves, while little posies in terracotta pots sit in the windows soaking up the sun. In season, we'll set out big wicker baskets of loose bulbs for wintertime blooms. Customers can select their favorites from the offering of paperwhites, little yellow tete-a-tete narcissi, crocus or snowdrops, packaging them up carefully in brown paper bags tied with twine.
I'll pop over each morning for latte and a friendly chat at the scrumptious cafe next door, then browse the shelves at my best friend's bookstore down the block. Favorite customers and new friends alike will stop by with a smile and leave with smartly wrapped packages and armfuls of flowers tied up with ribbon. The calendar will bustle with flower-arranging workshops, decoupage classes and cooking demonstrations filled with hip, interesting people.
In this idyllic world of mine, the postman will know my name, and my mom will drop in once a week to catch up over a cup of tea. The store will be open four days a week, and I'll close up shop each day at 3:30, taking my bike to collect the kids before heading home for playtime and dinner. On days off, I'll scour the local flea markets for vintage treasures to resell at the shop. Once a year, I'll travel to Europe to find floral inspiration amongst the quaint back streets of Paris, London and Florence. And, magically, this wonderful atelier will be wildly successful and generate enough income to support my artist's creative lifestyle.
A girl has got to have dreams, I say. And I have a lot of them, I mean A LOT OF THEM. I've got a whole list to escape with: florist, textile designer, cookbook author, photographer, antique jewelry designer, yoga teacher, roller derby queen (not!). Daydreams are as essential to life as real life itself. Nothing can replace the joy and sweetness of loved ones, or the fun and challenge of life in the moment, but where else can you explore a new persona, revisit a path not followed, dream up your own perfect world?
Someone who's living this dream is Ariella Chezar with a shop in NYC and atelier/workshop in the Berkshires. Her work is gorgeous, with credit for many of the images on this post. Check it out: Ariella Flowers.
Tune in again soon for my next life. I'm thinking European vintage linens, kind of an import/export thing. Scavenging trips to Europe, an online store with a fabulous logo and a second business refurbishing antique French chairs with rustic chic grain sack fabrics. Who's there with me? Come join in my daydream -- who will you be in your next life?
Let me leave you with this thought for the day:
An ancient, lime-washed refectory table brought home from travels abroad will anchor the space and serve as my workbench, scattered with petals, wire clippings, scissors and ribbon. Above, glittery glass stars and twinkly lights will hang from the ceiling, twisting in and around curling lengths of grapevine. Simple hand-tied bouquets nestled in clear mason jars will crowd the shelves, while little posies in terracotta pots sit in the windows soaking up the sun. In season, we'll set out big wicker baskets of loose bulbs for wintertime blooms. Customers can select their favorites from the offering of paperwhites, little yellow tete-a-tete narcissi, crocus or snowdrops, packaging them up carefully in brown paper bags tied with twine.
I'll pop over each morning for latte and a friendly chat at the scrumptious cafe next door, then browse the shelves at my best friend's bookstore down the block. Favorite customers and new friends alike will stop by with a smile and leave with smartly wrapped packages and armfuls of flowers tied up with ribbon. The calendar will bustle with flower-arranging workshops, decoupage classes and cooking demonstrations filled with hip, interesting people.
In this idyllic world of mine, the postman will know my name, and my mom will drop in once a week to catch up over a cup of tea. The store will be open four days a week, and I'll close up shop each day at 3:30, taking my bike to collect the kids before heading home for playtime and dinner. On days off, I'll scour the local flea markets for vintage treasures to resell at the shop. Once a year, I'll travel to Europe to find floral inspiration amongst the quaint back streets of Paris, London and Florence. And, magically, this wonderful atelier will be wildly successful and generate enough income to support my artist's creative lifestyle.
A girl has got to have dreams, I say. And I have a lot of them, I mean A LOT OF THEM. I've got a whole list to escape with: florist, textile designer, cookbook author, photographer, antique jewelry designer, yoga teacher, roller derby queen (not!). Daydreams are as essential to life as real life itself. Nothing can replace the joy and sweetness of loved ones, or the fun and challenge of life in the moment, but where else can you explore a new persona, revisit a path not followed, dream up your own perfect world?
Someone who's living this dream is Ariella Chezar with a shop in NYC and atelier/workshop in the Berkshires. Her work is gorgeous, with credit for many of the images on this post. Check it out: Ariella Flowers.
Tune in again soon for my next life. I'm thinking European vintage linens, kind of an import/export thing. Scavenging trips to Europe, an online store with a fabulous logo and a second business refurbishing antique French chairs with rustic chic grain sack fabrics. Who's there with me? Come join in my daydream -- who will you be in your next life?
Let me leave you with this thought for the day:
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