Growers Aim for Straight Stems. Is That What Floral Designers Want?

In Ladner, British Columbia, grower Karly Paranich wants stems that would be difficult to put in a shipping box. At PETALHEAD, her small farm inside an equestrian stable’s orchard, she grows atypical flowers for local florists.

“The curvy stems I yearn for won’t fit in a box to be shipped anywhere,” she told Flower Club.

It is a striking preference in a trade that often rewards straightness. FlowerBuyer’s Select Grade criteria specify strong, straight stems, unmarked foliage and even stem lengths. These are qualities a grower can work towards and a buyer can assess.

Yet the bend Paranich prizes is precisely what makes her flowers distinctive. Read alongside the designers in our Journal, her answer raises a question: does a flower that meets a trading standard always make the most interesting material to arrange?

The appeal of a flower with character

For Audrey Hilfiger, founder of Audrey in the Garden, a flower’s individuality is part of the design. Working between New York and Los Angeles on events, installations and sets, she considers how each stem moves and what is already unusual about it.

“I’m very interested in allowing flowers to have their own personalities,” she says.

Her interest in vines, trailing forms and seasonal branches gives that idea a physical expression. A stem can reach, lean or draw the eye through a space. Its existing shape offers something to compose with.

Straight stems remain useful. A curve offers another possibility: a gesture that changes the arrangement around it. In work that gives individual stems room to be seen, such differences can become especially noticeable.

In Thailand, Methawee Wangkham of Greenery Pantry begins by observing the space, season and available materials. Raised in Khon Kaen, in the northeastern region of Isan, she draws on local landscapes, craft and culture. Grasses, branches, leaves and seed pods are among the materials she works with.

“I often know what I want to express, but allow the materials to tell me how it should look.”

That approach leaves the final form open. The plants help determine the result, bringing shapes and textures that cannot all be settled in advance.

What are we calling imperfect?

A curved stem and a damaged stem are different things. Strength, condition and vase life still matter. A flower with an expressive line needs to function within the work, whether it is destined for a table, a bouquet or an installation.

Even FlowerBuyer’s guidelines distinguish appearance from longevity: its Standard Grade flowers remain fresh and fit for sale, with the same life expectancy as the higher grades. A trading category describes particular qualities; it does not settle every question of creative usefulness.

The word “imperfect” also depends on what we expect a plant to look like.

Australian photographer and botanical journal maker Elvina Farkas became more attentive to that question through growing flowers. She began watching stems develop and petals change, rather than looking only at the finished bloom.

“Flowers have taught me to slow down, observe first and impose my ideas second,” she says.

Her interest extends to plants dismissed as weeds and to stages beyond full bloom. A plant can offer a form, texture or history worth examining before an arranger decides whether it belongs.

When time becomes part of the material

In Daegu, South Korea, flower artist Sunaroun combines fresh flowers with dried materials aged for three to four years. The composition brings different stages of botanical life together.

“Accepting the beauty of fading flowers rather than throwing them away helps me think about human life.”

Here, the value of the material includes what has happened to it. Drying changes its surface and structure. Keeping it for years allows it to enter a later work with qualities a fresh stem could not provide.

This wider attention to plant life has a longstanding connection with ikebana. Ikenobo’s philosophy recognises beauty in insect-bitten leaves, withering leaves and bare branches alongside young leaves and colourful flowers. Sogetsu also teaches the use of dried materials, while distinguishing their beauty from the loss of condition in wilted flowers.

Ikebana remains visible within contemporary floral design. RHS Chelsea’s floral exhibits have included explicitly ikebana-inspired work, as well as compositions exploring plant life cycles and combining fresh and dried materials. These examples provide context for the conversation. They do not establish that the designers interviewed here work in an ikebana tradition or owe their preferences to it.

A different definition of desirable

Together, these interviews suggest an appetite for botanical character: the curve that resists packing, the branch that changes a composition, the material that carries evidence of time.

They leave a useful question for growers and designers to discuss. Which qualities make a stem easy to trade, and which make it exciting to work with? Sometimes the same flower can satisfy both. Sometimes a designer may be looking for something a grading system does not reward.

Paranich’s curved stems offer a concrete example of that possibility. She grows them for local florists, and their awkwardness in a box is part of what keeps them connected to the farm.

For the designer who wants that particular line, straightening it would remove the very thing worth choosing.