I don't know about you, but sometimes, you first realise that you really care about something (and I mean, REALLY care, even if you already knew you loved it) when you have an unnaturally strong reaction to something. Something seemingly innocuous. And so...
One evening we plonked ourselves down in front of Netflix and scrolled through our nightly options as we waited for the pooches to have their mad half hours and fall asleep. This mainly consists of them biting each other whilst growling, sometimes on the floor, sometimes while jumping on our heads... their tails are wagging, and if I try to stop them they innocently look at me like I've stolen all that is good and light in the world, so, after all these years, we just resolve to sit through it and wait for the calm after the storm.
Following the storm, we settled to watch the documentary, 'Dior and I' - as a bit of an antidote to our series binging, but also because we had meant to forever, and it looked so great. The premise is, Raf Simons, former head designer at Jil Sander (known for minimalism, clean lines and pared back utilitarian chic) had been hired as head of Womenswear at Christian Dior - possibly the most beautifully feminine, indulgent, French, adorned and adored fashion house in the world, made famous for inventing the "New Look" post war - celebrating female bodies with cinched waists and hourglass forms. The appointment of Raf Simons as creative director at Dior, after the removal of John Galliano (a more natural fit aesthetically) was highly controversial so the documentary focusses on the weight of the appointment on Raf himself, personally, the impossibly tight deadlines in the fashion industry and how this affected the House as a whole, the staff who craft the clothing (he doesn't speak French! Mon Dieu!) and the point he had to prove in rejuvenating the brand and upholding the faith that had been placed in him to embody the spirit of 'Dior'...
But that's all beside the point.
As the runway show draws near, Raf wants to create something unbelievably striking and pitches the idea of a Floral installation to the Director of Dior. He wants to bring on board the Belgian florist Mark Colle to line the walls of a Parisian townhouse (which is unbelievably stunning in it's own right!) where the collection is going to be walked through for the Fashion Show, with flowers. It's a huge undertaking and the budget eye-watering.
The Boss says yes.
You watch as every wall, alcove and doorway in the building is completely bathed, blanketed and enswathed with flowers - both mixed blooms for a neon explosion of contrasts and textures, to entire rooms of one colour, one flower, such as delphinium which engulfs the room in cobalt blue... changing hue on each wall, as the light floods in through the enormous windows. It took a team of 50 people four straight days to install the flowers and as I watched it emerge, I cried.
It was so unbelievably beautiful, so overwhelming - that flowers could look like that, create that, that people would care so much about them to invest in something like this, both financially and physically... it was just mind-blowingly incredible. Apparently you could smell the scent of the installation for three blocks. I mean, wow. Right?
The tear inducing beauty of these flowers, these rooms and how amazing it was, was one of the things that made me realise - that maybe, just maybe - flowers were supposed to be even more important and present in my life than they already were.
*all images c/o Mark Colle website and the photographer is Sophie Carre