Greenpoint

I spent last night snuggled on the sofa at my friend Anne's house in Portland, refreshing delta.com to see when I can go back home to the city. I came out to the West Coast last week to do flowers for a Kinfolk shoot and after several canceled flights, tomorrow night I will be shuttled cross country back to my cat and boy, my studio and truck and flowers. I'm stranded in a Stumptown. It could be worse.

Portland is putting on a good show. Lots of gloom and drizzle, hot coffee and really wonderful friends. So much food I think I need new jeans and I haven't even hit up Bugerville for a pumpkin milkshake yet. Being a traveling florist and working on shoots with really inspiring people- I'm still overwhelmed that this is a job. Feeling grateful, and also grateful that my truck didn't get a big ol tree through the windshield back home. Cat is alive. Boyfriend and buddies are safe and dry. Parents have power. All is quiet on the eastern front.

These are some flowers from a job for Levi's last week. I'm facing down winter and as a florist it means jobs like that are now worth a million since weddings have slowed. We have big plans in store for the quiet months that include dreaming up new ways of working with flowers apart from the usual event rigamarole, and I can't wait to step off the roller coaster for a bit.

I've been really in love with the studio lately. The view from the roof (and my windows) of the East River is a knock out. It sits directly on the river, and it's the only place I can go that really cements my appreciation for the city. It's hard being so far from home while everyone suffered the storm. Greenpoint, where the studio is, really had a rough go of it and I'm anxious to get back to my home away from home.

Drying herbs

Quick! Let's talk about something, anything, other than weddings. Or flowers. Or my general exhaustion and feelings for both. Herbs? Drying them? Okay.

I wrote a story for the new volume five of Kinfolk Magazine about gathering and drying herbs in the fall. I dreamt up the idea in early spring and hopped a plane to Oregon to create it with my new but old-feeling friend, Parker Fitzgerald. This project, and I think our friendship in general,  has been quite creatively inspiring. His photos have pushed me to shoot my own work more intentionally (and on manual!) and I think he's caught a bit of flower fever from me. Platonic pals- they are important.

Collaborating can be deceptively hard. There were highs and lows with planning a shoot from the other side of the country. Different visions, different strengths. Once we agreed on location (Parker, can we pleeeease shoot in your garage) and once we got the herbs (Parker, pleeeease pull over the truck so I can steal that lavender), we were good to go. Everything fell into place at the 11th hour and the actual shoot was so ridiculously laid-back I felt like we were cheating. The next day we went on this hike, where my brain short-circuited from insane beauty. What a week.

I'm excited to show you more of the upcoming stories we've made together and I hope we'll be shooting side by side again soon. In the meantime, take a look at his beautiful photos from the Kinfolk dinner in Philly, including some of and some taken by, yours truly.

*All of these photos are Parker's, except 6, 8, 9 & 10.

Consistency

The studio has been humming lately. Our usual pursuits have been abandoned to log some serious face time with foraged wild persimmons and dahlias from Frances' garden. My friend Siri has been helping here a lot, and along with Kait, they keep me together. Siri always wears stripes to work and impractically stylish clog heels. I always wear the same thing I wore yesterday. Consistency- it's key.

The studio is now full of dirty vases, at least 30 of them. About 6 old coffee cups. A deflated air-mattress. Just laying down for a minute turns into your intern arriving on her first day to find you face down, asleep at 2pm because you've been working since 6  in the blink of an eye so it's best just to not even go there. 

This bouquet is from last weekend, a little in size but big in spirit wedding that was spun from a Gilded Age, mahogany lacquered library on 5th Ave. There were 3 tables. 30 feet of hydrangea garland. 300 votives. A mega-massive flower and dripping candlewax taper extravaganza at the bar. Going back after midnight to clean up the party was devastating. Being both the maker and the destroyer could keep a girl up at night. Good thing that it's impossible to keep your eyes open from sheer exhaustion on the drive back home. At a red light on 14th street, I had to beg a chinese fire-drill because I couldn't physically drive another block. A handful of flowers came up to the apartment and Michael put them in a vase while I passed out.