Anthony Bourdain once wrote a scathing review of his own career in Kitchen Confidential, confessing to all manner of sin and giving an intimate look at the underbelly of the culinary world. It could serve as a sort of initiation read for wannabe chefs, though it isn’t all bad. Despite the bitterness, Bourdain displayed an unrivalled passion for his life’s work: food, and the culture tied to it. This sort of true love can be hard to find, but for those of us working in our dream jobs - or close to it - it’s endlessly relatable.
Like Bourdain, I’m sure after decades of being in the industry and traveling around the world, I could write a novel on what happens behind the scenes in your local florist. What it takes, the good and the bad, etcetera. Just as with being a chef, a florist is a dream job for many, but like any dream job, there’s more to it than what you see on the outside. Without getting too nitty gritty (I have yet to sign a TV show contract, so I need to keep my job), I'll share some sneak peeks. Take it with a grain of salt; Mountaintop is by far the best florist I’ve ever worked at. Your results may vary.
So you want to be a florist? The first thing it takes is a love of flowers and an eye for design. My first interview consisted of one question and one question only: “do you like flowers?” That was for an entry level position in the floral department of a grocery store, and if I’m being honest, I just needed a job. Little did I know that landing there set me on a path that I’d still be walking ten years later. At first, there was no glory to it. My boss, the head florist - the chef, so-to-speak, of our little gazebo in the local grocer - took all the biggest and best orders. My coworker/supervisor trained me on all of the basics, the things I never could have foreseen but which of course make sense in hindsight: scrubbing buckets, processing roses, unpacking countless vases and plush animals, and other menial tasks. I was every entry level scrub on the line; washing, cleaning, and for the time being, just watching my coworkers when they put together bouquets, rose vases, and arrangements to order.
Bourdain wrote that eating his first oyster was on the same level as having sex for the first time, or having a joint for the first time. I can’t say that cutting your first rose or making your first arrangement is quite as life-changing, but making the first arrangement or bouquet you really like is pretty close. Not only do you have a creative outlet, you get to watch someone walk away happy with it. Any artist or maker knows how good this feels, and how it never gets tiring.
“Food had power. It could astonish, shock, excite, delight and impress. It had the power to please me… and others. This was valuable information.”
When people think of florists, that might be the extent of their thoughts on it. You work with flowers all day, everything smells good, and it’s fun. Let’s break that down a bit.
First: working with flowers. It is most of the job, I’ll give it that. But it’s not all arranging. Flowers have to be processed when they come in, and during this the floor becomes covered in leaves, stems, and petals. It smells heady and intoxicating and is usually what passerby’s notice on new flower day, but it all needs to be carefully traversed, because wet leaves are a major slipping hazard. Buckets must be scrubbed, rinsed, and filled with clean water. The entire fridge and everything that’s in it must get a refresh at least once a week, or else it may all start stinking or moulding or dying. Then there’s the business work; phone calls, taking orders, selling plants, and responding to emails - particularly those regarding wedding quotes - which take time to put together.
Second: Everything smells good. You might think this until you dump a compost bin two weeks on, or until you forget to wash the curly willow bucket. One particular filler flower actually straight up smells like a cat’s litter box, though you wouldn’t notice unless you stuck your nose right into it.
Third: That it’s fun. It is fun. It’s tons and tons and tons of fun, but like anything, not without a price. Washing buckets and dishes can be satisfying, but never particularly fun. Arranging is fun, when you have the time to enjoy it. A dozen roses in a vase is fun to make until you have to make ten in a row on Valentines day. But I don’t want to say that the florist industry is cutthroat, even if it probably is. In my experience at least, it’s never gotten anywhere close to the level of pressure one would feel cooking in any professional, busy kitchen.
Bourdain wrote about once about burning his hand on a sauce pan, and instantly dropping it. He asks the cook training him for burn cream or maybe a bandaid. Then he watches in a mix of horror and awe as the cook, who is having absolutely none of it, picks up the glowing hot pan with his bare hands, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break eye contact, and places it down. That’s an over-exaggeration for a flower shop of course (or so I would hope) but it’s true enough that your hands will get cut up, whether from stems, branches, or snips, and work must continue. I’d like to say I’ve earned a few scars, but I don’t think it really counts if it’s just thanks to being clumsy with a knife.
But my bosses will also never drag me into the cooler to ream me out- though if they ever do, I’m sure I’ll have had it coming- nor would they expect me to work through any serious injury. In a more competitive and busy florist, that might well be the case. I sort of doubt it. Sort of.
All I will say is that Christmas is to florists what brunch is to Bourdain; a shop without leaves and stems littering the floor midday isn’t seen as very busy; and knowing your houseplant trivia is actually the least of your worries. It’s all about the flowers. Identifying them, arranging them, that can come later. Knowing your basics is where you start, just as the best chefs probably started as dishwashers.
So what does it take to run a kitchen or a florist? Inventory, cost analysis, processing, prep work, arranging, take down, clean up… and more I’m definitely missing. Either way, there’s a lot of parallels here. When I watch Christine put together a wedding bouquet with grace and ease, it reminds me of Bourdain’s story of the pan. (Not for humiliation and burns covering your hands.) Just for how it feels to see someone make it look easy; to see something that feels unattainable, but that you know comes with time, study, and practice.
Hopefully this short insider’s look has given you some perspective of what it’s like. Bourdain wanted to be a chef because, in his words, those guys ruled. A florist might not be so much sex, drugs, and rock and roll as his early life was working in a seafood restaurant. But it’s one of those challenging adventures, the same sort he was looking for. You can see the endgame, and you can see what you want to be or what you could be. It isn’t a short journey by any means. But would you want it to be?
-Juls