Plastic Flowers

How do I feel about plastic flowers? Scorn. Disdain. Like any imitation, they are obviously inferior to the Real Thing, right? They belong with polyester, flavors instead of extracts, shake-on parmesan cheese, fake wood paneling. No, don't try to talk to me about silk flowers, either.

But how do I explain this without acknowledging classism and snobbery, things I don't want to admit to? I'm a lot more careful about flinging around the word 'tacky' than I used to be as a young person. Declaring something 'tacky' is just another way of saying, "I have better taste than that; whoever would like/choose/do that is inferior to me." I'm not comfortable making that judgment, or maybe I am, but I'm not happy about it, it's not something I want to encourage in myself.

Back to plastic flowers. When I lived in the Solomon Islands, I witnessed a couple of weddings in our village. They both involved some of the more prominent, better-off families in the community. By this I mean they had a little more access to money than other families in this subsistence-agriculture based village, and also a certain amount of prestige (whether that stemmed from the outside-money access or whether the prestige had allowed for the opportunities to gain material advantages was not clear). Anyway, both weddings featured plastic flowers--plastic bouquets held by the brides. This is the tropics. There were gorgeous flowers growing all over the place, and many of these were in fact used to decorate the church. The flowers of honor, however, were the plastic ones.

Of course I cannot scorn this use of plastic flowers. My desire to see things through others' eyes allows me several reasonable explanations of why someone would choose plastic over natural. They might be a way of displaying wealth, as plastic flowers are obviously bought, while real flowers are free. (Displays of wealth seem an important part of weddings around the world and across very diverse cultures, but that's another topic.) The flowers' permanence might also be attractive, not wilting in the tropical heat, and they could be kept on display in the home forever as a reminder of the day. The plastic flowers also came in colors and shapes not available in the local naturally-occurring flora.

Here in Oakland, I have a neighbor who, during the winter, fills her flowerbeds with plastic flowers. You might expect that a person who did that was not a gardener, the plastic flowers being the best she could do. In fact, she is a terrific gardener and the flower beds have real flowers in the summer. She also has a large vegetable garden which looks very productive. She is one of few neighbors who regularly hangs her laundry on an outdoor line. I like her without knowing her. She helps undermine my prejudice against plastic flowers, or at least against the people who have them.

This morning I came across another plastic-flower displaying house. I'm going to go back and take a picture because I was utterly charmed and delighted by the house. Not in a condescending "Oh, aren't those (foreign/different) people interesting?" kind of way. At least I hope not. I think my feeling was genuine pleasure at what someone had done with plastic flowers. It would have been possible with real flowers, but it would have lasted only a few hours, and I wouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing it on an early morning walk. Who knew I would ever come so far from my scorn and disdain?