As we move along our quest for wedding reception bliss, we check out florist #2. We had a personal recommendation for this one, and thought, hey, we were so blown away but #1 - maybe #2 will be even better!
Let me set the stage. Florist #1. Located in our favorite part of town, the warehouse district, adjacent to our favorite quaint coffee shop, which we fondly call the Moose.
Florist #2. Located in a warehouse district of sorts, in Saint Louis Park! Among trailer homes and broken down cars, and a vacant Bakers Square. We circle and circle, trying to find the door, only to realize, of course, it is unmarked. We enter, expecting to find an artsy warehouse filled with flowers, ribbon, and photos of flowers. We find an old warehouse, wreaking of cat urine, with photos of a certain Christan icon on the walls. We are then greeted by a cat. Jeremy does not like cats. We meet the florist who invites us to sit down on the cat urine stained couch, with the cat sprawled out over the photos. Now I like cats, but this was a little More than I could handle.
We explain that we have very modern taste and are looking for seasonal flowers with an edge. Nothing froufrou, nothing poufey - think crisp, clean, modern. She retorts with what she believes would be the perfect bouquet for me. Pink Roses with lots of greenery, baby's breath, and brown berries of some sort. Clearly we were not speaking the same language.
This conversation continues for about an hour and a half, until I decide to tell them that my pregnant sister-in-law just texted me and said she desperately needed my help (thank you Emily for being my pawn!). We departed, she wished us well and said she looked forward to working on our wedding. Hours later, I emailed her, thanking her for her time, and letting her know that we would be moving in a different direction and would not need her assistance. Lovely lady, just not quite what we had in mind.
And in the end I learned, from a practical standpoint...their prices were THE SAME!