What the Plant Shops of Paris Taught Me About Home
The Moulié plant shop in Paris.
Paris is a gorgeous city. Tall white buildings rise from cobblestone streets amidst ornate lamps and historic monuments. It’s a lovely vista to enjoy. But then, once in a while, while walking through the Marais or St. Germain neighborhoods, you might turn a corner and experience a different kind of magical vista: the lush, green dream of a tiny, neighborhood plant shop.
These shops aren't just stores; they’re invitations to slow the soul. When I lived in Paris, I learned that for a Parisian, these shops are where the Jardin meets the Patina of daily life. They’re the source of a simple houseplant or hand-tied bouquet that brings a soft, living pulse to a centuries-old apartment.
As a professional gardener, I’ve often looked at these displays with a bit of envy. There’s a certain glamour to playing with flowers all day, curating a space where nature is presented as art. It’s a feeling I’ve carried with me into my current work of creating handmade artifacts that capture the textural beauty of a garden.
Even if we aren't strolling through the City of Light today, we can take a cue from the Parisian fleuriste. We can choose to pause, inhale the scent of damp soil and sweet petals, and remember that bringing fresh flowers or a single houseplant inside is the simplest way to find peace in a busy world.
Bringing the Paris "Pause" to Your Home
Even if you’ve never been to Paris, you can still curate a "Parisian" moment in your own home with very little effort:
The Seasonal Palette: Parisians often skip the multi-colored bouquet in favor of a harmonious hue moment. And they often buy what’s in season. Choose a handful of fresh flowers in a single color, perhaps white snowdrops in winter, dusty pink tulips in spring, pastel peach roses in summer, or yellow mums in fall. Tuck them in an etched crystal vase or Provencal kitchen crock. Refreshing them every two weeks becomes a small, rhythmic ceremony for your home.
The Artifact as Vessel: Instead of a standard flower pot, look to your "treasures" to hold your greenery. A weathered watering can, small stone urn, or even a vintage ironstone pitcher provides the perfect vessel for flowering branches or curving vines. You can force bulbs in a thrifted ceramic tureen, just add a plastic liner with holes for drainage. When creating a bouquet, arrange stems loosely, even so they’re tumbling out, which evokes an "old-world" Parisian feel right on your dining table.
The Window Ritual: In Paris, every inch of balcony is a potential garden. And with a long history of royal rule, boxwood cones, rosemary topiary, or ivy wreaths add traditional, French formality. Use terracotta pots or square concrete containers with a lion or fleur-de-lis symbol. Dedicate one window or balcony ledge to a "dream nook," a place where you can sit with a tea, admire your “fancy” garden, and breathe out the day.
If you’d like to see the fictional side of this inspiration, you can find the spirit of these shops in my novel, The Forgetting Flower, which follows a Polish transplant managing a very special (and secret) plant in the heart of Paris.
