I have a theory that every woman loves flowers, but every woman has just one flower that she can’t stand.
Last week I was buying a bunch of flowers for a girlfriend’s birthday. I chose orange tulips, which were really lovely. The florist put it together for me and said, “Are tulips her favourite?”
I said, “I have no idea.”
What I didn’t say (because who knows what florists might find offensive), was this: “All I know is that she hates roses.”
Then I realised that I can’t actually keep up with the flowers my friends love, but I can easily remember what they all hate.
My boss, Lyn, hates lilies. She doesn’t like the smell or the way their stamens leak staining yellow powder all over everything.
My friend Carol hates irises, which filled her house when her mum died, and always make her feel sad.
Jac hates roses. But there’s also a shade of the colour blue that makes her feel physically ill, so who knows what’s going on in Jac’s head. But I always avoid roses when I’m buying for Jac.
My mum hates Australian natives. Also the smell of daisies. And chrysanthemums. But mum loves roses, so I just stick with them when buying for mum.
Now that I think of it, I think the florist was a bit anti-tulip last week. She did complain a lot about how they don’t really last or stand up straight for very long. I tried not to listen having just forked out for a bunch of them.
As for me? I’m pretty undiscerning when it comes to flowers. I’m just so delighted to get a bunch that I’ll take what I can get. Most often it’s a supermarket bunch from my husband when he does the shopping, which always makes me smile. Or the stunning roses, sweet-pea or assorted colour my father-in-law grows, which always smell amazing and are very pretty to boot.
Although, now that I think of it … I’m not a huge fan of gerberas …