Aaah for the love of Judy, it’s forty years since her death but we still can’t get enough of the sligh slapping sho’ tunes she belted out, her trit trotts down yellow brick roads and her lovely leotard wearing legacies.

She can sing, she can dance but did you have her pegged as a Constance Spry wannabe? Back in 1939 she opened Judy Garland Flowers (aherm Garlands Garlands Garlands?).

Whilst we all know us florists can sing for our supper do you think Dorothy ever strimmed thorny stems with Toto at her sequined feet, got pollen stains on her pinny or romped home with flower shop fists?

Judy walked away from her flower shop to greater things with a love of lilac, white roses and a showy rosa in her name.

With no petals to pluck this monday I’m feeling all Hollywood Helibores, dreaming of Audrey and pink petal walls, mulling over Marilyn and wondering if Judes could teach me a tune or two, (whilst doing a long and low ofcourse) xxx

Here we are recovering from a week of fashion, flowers for a cool campaign, and seeing old friends and new.

Working on trelisses in teadresses and watching O wrestle with Oysters.

Loving 7am starts in the veg patch with Arnold peering on.

Making garden canopies from liberty prints.

Photo’s and tales to come but for now I’m going to concentrate on being a Sunday Girl.

Hope you’ve had a lovely weekend xxx

Feeling pretty in pink this week we’re sadly watching the best of the early summer peonies fade out of season.

But saying hi to carousel horses, farrow and ball greys and pinks, hot pink story boards and jugs of peonies frozen in time on the boat.

Beautiful but please don’t touch they’ll shatter. Sigh, pompoms of peonies will always be my loves. From their spring start as poet Mary Oliver waxes, ‘the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart to their honeyed heaviness, and their lush trembling’ as they part.

Still like fickle florists do we can comfort ourselves instead with fashion frolics courtesy of pals Stella and Luella and a summer full of sweetpeas.

Today on the boat we’re feeling blue, lousy rain and thoughts of you…somewhere sunny?

Stripping roses and sorting through ribbons and pouring through my lovely vintage posties found a wonderful frock that matches a clients gorgeous rock ‘n roll door.

I wonder if the two ever met…did she once girlishly swirl in town? Did her matinee idol once lie within…did that flower suffer being spray painted pink? xxx

It’s so funny how old fashioned flowers were so hip in the 50’s, Azalias and Bourgainvillia ruled in terms of chicness, Audrey posed and Cecil Beaton adored. Me I prefer the B in Greece and the A can stay put in granny florists…still Auds is doing them proud. Pin up of the week I reck.

This Gypsy was in big trub on the boat for failing to mention the Captain and O for a couple of days….so lets mention a few things.

Numero uno, a liking for flowers, foliage and all things floral thankfully rate high.

Number 2. A penchant for Jazz, cooking, moider mysteries of the Christie and Margaret Rutherford style are up there. As are football and seasons…(in the fixtures sense my dears).

Flower du choix – Blossom, music that get the paws tapping – Miss Dearie, favourite feline – Madame Cholet, occasionally Arnold… and sweetly being very old fashioned.

Then there’s Arsenal, Touraine, APC, Saltimboca, yellow socks, Noel coward, I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue, MOTD and tail tappin to Quem e Quem.

Just a few things…there’s lots more. xxx

These blooms are making me homesick. Wherever they are they remind me of summer, and my family home. Now France, it’s also where I spent most of my childhood…and many hours cooking with cream and Normandy cider, laughing, leafing through Cote Ouest, and dreaming with my lovely aunt Georgina.

Her cottage had pots and pots of them and they now conjure up ferry trips to Le Havre reading Agatha, lavender oil, my first Gitane (and last!), and late nights being introduced to the gravely tones of Bob Dylan.

Also a dab hand in the kitchen, cooking with flowers was never sniffed at, freezing fresh flowering herbs was a must and as a result geranium sorbets were delish. We now line cake tins with scented leaves for a simple scented sponge (remove before eating) and candied with rose water and sugar the flowers are heaven – even Arthur ‘n Martha lovers partake.

So I raise a glass of geranium leaf infused champagne to the G’s lemon scented leaves, France frolicks – (see you soon), aunts, Agatha and Bob. xxx

This week we’re dashing about in Mabel for fashion causes and choosing new Gypsy cards…what do you think? Too flowery, too feminine or perfectly Gypsy? Answers most definitely on a floral postcard please.

F is for flora, felines, fountains, fond farewells, falling in love, freedom, flower fairies in the garden, Fred Astaire, fritalia, ferns, frangipani, forget me nots, foie gras, flirting, Fun Boy three, France, frolicking, fabulous florists, fishnets, fairgrounds, Fela Kuti, fishing, flans, frisbees, flares, fromage, fair weather, Fontainebleu, fireworks, and for you…fare thee welling. xxx

I love a good umbrella but London rain is such a shame – soggy salal and sandals.

Ce weekend I’m shining it up with bows for Cho, Sunday surprises, picnics and pals, fellow florists birthdays and making gooey gooseberry and elderflower jam.

Watching peonies fade, training wysteria, Portobello’ing, Borough Market’ing and lovely lazy lie ins. I may even indulge in a film with a beautiful track and a super sad ending. Et tu?

This week between wedding meetings and shoots we’re being inspired by vintage wallpapers, brown paper parcel tags and old copies of The Queen.

Deliberating O’s Omelette friday, enjoying the Contance Spry cookbook, attempting an Andy Warhol jelly, spoiling Madame Cholet and giggling to Les fleurs of Minnie A friday song if there ever was. xxx