Meeting with vendors reminds me of being single. Each one is like a date complete with nervousness, high expectations and hope that this one may, at last, be the one. As I rushed down to the flower district this morning for my "date" with Emily Thompson, I tried to rearticulate in my head the aesthetic I was looking for. It felt exactly like when I literally ran into Ryan Reynolds in Central Park. I was hot, sweaty and wearing a hot pink shirt that said, "Long Island Cheeseburger," on it when I saw Mr. Reynolds dressed smartly in a suit strolling past the reservoir. I was siezed with lust and could barely think of what I was going to say when the moment came and the words, "Hey!....I'm a big fan," came stumbling out of my thirsty lips. This was 4 years ago and every day I regret sounding like a total and complete knob.So flash foward and it's the same thing all over again, only this time I'm not meeting my fantasy man, instead it's the floral designer of my dreams. Working with truly gifted artists can be very intimidating. I knew there was no one else who could give me the look I was searching for. So my biggest fear when meeting such talented vendors is that I'm either going to sound like an artistic idiot with no ideas, or like some kind of abstract asshole at an art gallery.
Ultimately I had no need to worry. If only all first dates went this well, NYC would run out of singles. The entire morning was a cacophony of ideas and colors. Tropical ferns and palms lush and green, gloriosa lilies exploding with color, raucus ranuculous, crespidia and french tulips and the coup de gras...kumkwats bursting with bright citrus glamour. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, Emily held some blooms in my face and said, "Smell." I couldn't believe it, they smelled just like chocolate.
This was followed by coffee and conversation and then an impromtu trek to search out ribbons. What I loved most about Ms. Thompson's approach, other than the exquisite attention to detail and service, was her sense of the moment. Let me explain. I look at most bouquets and I see stagnant, beautiful blooms bound together almost claustraphobically. Other than the fact that they are pretty, the flowers do not reflect the bride or the complex whirlwind inside her. I want to walk down the aisle and at the moment I feel most overwhelmed, look down and see in my hands a reflection of myself. A visual reminder that despite the fact that I am becoming a part of something bigger, I am not losing myself. I look at Emily's arrangements and they refuse to conform. There is a sense of urgency, as if the flowers themselves are aspiring towards replicating the truest sense of the moment. Their temporality only underscores the fact that some things happen only once. And let's face it, that's what you are hoping for. At moments like those you want the best. Ladies and gentlemen, I've found her. 
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