Floral design for those who feel more than they say.

The first time I made a flower arrangement, I found myself somewhere in Brooklyn, the kind of place where the help comes with side-eye and tightly curated taste. I hovered between my options, already sensing the clerk’s impatience growing like humidity behind me. I changed my mind more than once — not out of confusion but out of care. She sighed. I smiled.

The final arrangement was tall, lush, and sharp with contrast. She sat on the dining table of my apartment like a quiet revelation. White oriental lilies, gold roses, tucked into a lush, vine-heavy base. It smelled like drama and it looked intentional. A few people came over and told me I was pretty good at this.

I thanked them, and then did what I always do. I told myself,

“If I enjoy it, it must be indulgent. If it comes easily, it’s not real work. If I love doing it, it’s a waste of time.”

And so I waited almost two years before I tried again.