Bridal Bouquets as Evocations
I always find bridal bouquets to be particularly special to make. They are designed to accompany a moment many women have dreamt of since they were children.
In many ways, the idea of a wedding has transformed over the years- departing from a traditional rite of passage to an authentic celebration of the unique love story binding two people. While many couples have moved away from certain aspects of traditional weddings, or reimagined them as something new, flowers are rarely compromised- a bride is never complete without two things: her lover, and her flower bouquet.
Ever since it was popularised during the Victorian era, the all-white bridal bouquet has been a classic symbol of the sanctity of marriage. Bouquets of roses and Ivy or cascading Lily of the Valley from the 20’s emerged into DIY wartime garden bouquets of the 40’s, and then to fully wired trail bouquets of the 80’s. However, as we have progressed into the 21st Century, we see the traditional white take a backseat as Brides opt for flowers indicative of their personality, their style, and the feeling they wish to bring to their wedding.
The Rodarte Fall/Winter 2025 collection is something like a photo album stolen from an exclusive gothic wedding tucked away in the cobbled courtyard of a moonlight-lit estate. In an interview with Laia Garcia-Furtado of Vogue, sisters and founders of Rodarte, Kate and Laura Mulleavy noted that a single colour sparked an entire imaginative palette: “It all started with this lavender dove gray color that we wanted to work with, and that basically told the story of just wanting something that felt gothic and moody.” With the collection featuring dresses of rich crimson velvet, victorian-esque collars of lace, billows of romantic lilac chiffon, and cascading ivory veils; every piece evokes a different viewpoint to one mysterious story.
If each design in Rodarte’s collection act as different evocations of the same story, then so too are the flower arrangements featured in each look. In one look, a gothic bride wears a floor length white gown embossed with damask flowers. In her hand, she holds an unbound bouquet of deep purple sweat peas, to match a crown of the same flowers around her head. In the background, an arrangement of Arum Lilies and rumbling purple foliage act as centrepieces for an enchanted make-believe reception hall. In other looks, long untrimmed Arums are held in single stems like swords by what could be a band of moody bridesmaids, or wired into bracelets and necklaces for other guests floating in. Some carry fragrant bunches of mauve Hyacinth en-masse, others wild bouquets of dusty pink Peruvian Lilies. Just like real brides, each one is different and each bouquet reflects that uniqueness.
There is a reason why the Mulleavy sisters chose for flowers to be featured in every look of the collection. Wedding flowers are evocations of something bigger. They contribute to the look, feel, smell of a love story. They encapsulate the aesthetic dreams of the bride and the romance of her marriage. It’s a symbol of devotion, an offering perhaps, to the sacrament of marriage. It is also an embodiment of femininity, a tradition exclusive to a bride. Flower bouquets are the closest living things to the bride and groom at the site of their union. They are held by bands of bridesmaids as they look on. Flowers are a binding force as much as love itself is.
When I make a bridal bouquet, I see more than just the flowers. In their Vogue interview, Kate made clear that, “For us, it’s always been so personal; what we put forth is whatever inspires us in the moment. I always felt the person that was choosing something of ours also had an emotional attachment to it—I always think, when you can have anything you want in the world, why are you choosing this one dress?” I think the same way about flowers. There are millions of flower species in the world- what is it about the one bouquet a bride chooses for her wedding that encapsulates all of her musings and desires. It’s why in my bridal series, I aim for each bouquet to be an elaboration of a story. My most recent bouquet evokes a narrative not dissimilar to the Rodarte collection:
Married beneath skeleton trees turning purple in the twilight. Drifting through the never-ending halls of a dimly lit manor. Nearly tripping on the lilac ruffles of her dress. A quiet moment with her husband on a velvet burgundy settee. The jewel of her ring sparkling amongst lacy gloves.
While I did not initially intend for my bouquet to fall so similarly beside the Rodarte collection, I now see that that is the beautiful thing about evocations. One thing evokes another evokes another evokes another.
