Lifelike or lifeless?

Dead or dried flowers pack extra meaning so watch your words

Sorry Will. A rose isn’t always just a renamed rose.

There are two kinds of flower lovers: Those that see the beauty in dried flowers and those that see something far different. 

To the second group, dried flowers are dead flowers. Goth arrangements of whatever the opposite of cheer is. This is the camp that believes dried flowers are bad luck. A precursor of death. 

If your flowers are meant to deliver a message, is “You’re Dead To Me” the meaning you want to relay?

Yes? Read on. Because the language of flowers is never that straight forward.

No? Read on anyway.

 Dried flowers are not preserved flowers, carefully packed, mummy-like, in silicas to extract moisture while preserving a semblance of structure. Nor are they heirlooms pressed delicately between the pages of the family Bible. Dried flowers are in the early stages of decay. Not yet skeletal, but certainly heading in that direction. The life essence has drained and that alone makes dried flowers a no-go for anyone even glancingly familiar with Feng Shui. While Feng Shui seeks to balance energy, emulating the natural flow of life, where do dead flowers fit? 

Short answer: They don’t. 

Which is’t to say they don’t have a place.

There is a beauty to dried flowers, a stark reminder that life is fleeting but memories are forever. The floral world’s momento mori, reminds the recipient that all worldly goods because worthless in the end. Decay and death are inevitable. Their symbolism as eternal and enduring were at times combined with the locks of a deceased person’s hair in funereal art.

With all that darkness implied, should you be giving dried flowers as a gift? 

Even on Halloween, a night where we’re all flirting with that thin veil, their symbolism is a minefield.

An entire mini-industry has sprung around these floral arrangements, ranging from dead roses meant to let an ex know how you really feel to floral artists creating dust catchers everlasting arrangements for the seasonally deprived. 

Those dead roses for an ex — one step short of a flaming sack of dog poop on the stoop — likely derives from a Wiccan cord-cutting spell where the flowers symbolize the givers intention to break free. These are not gifts, but messages and the language of these flowers is unambiguous.

But dried flower lovers are having their moment, a moment that seems to arrive annually with pumpkin spice lattes and the first frost. The growing season is ending and we grab at the last remaining blooms like a life raft before Seasonal Affective Disorder sets in.

Memories on paper

"Flowers of the Holy Land", Frederick Vester pressed flower picture from the early to mid-1920's, and containing pressed-flowers from Jerusalem, hold their beauty and their meaning (credit: D. H. Ramsey Library, Special Collections, University of North Carolina at Asheville)

While the trendiness of dried flowers ebbs and flows, they haven’t left the floral scene since the ancient Egyptians hieroglyphed preservation recipes for posterity. The Romans used these faded blooms in wreaths and garlands, particularly the laurel and olive branches. During the Plague years, the scent of dried flowers masked the scent of death and provided an imaginary shield against evil disease-carrying spirits. Why dried? Because death knew no season and dried petals were the only option when winter fell.

So how did we get from that morbid backstory to today’s crafty creations? 

Blame the Japanese. In the 16th century, floral artists began experimenting with Oshibana, pressing flowers between papers. Oshibana is likely the first time dried flowers were seen as beautiful rather than practical. The art form developed over 200 years and then, when trade resumed in the 18th century, the Victorians got their hands on this floral art. In a play to make pressed flowers their own,  the Victorians translated Oshibana into the love language of flowers we’ve been saddled with since.

In the 2020s, dried flowers saw a surge of popularity. Brides carried them down the aisle and decked the reception table in fading glories. Interior designers replaced buckets of blooms with carefully decaying blooms. Besides being longer lasting — up to a year of use — they are also less expensive and virtually care free.

But still, are they a welcome gift? Are you trying to declare your undying love? Are you ready to explain the difference between flowers that are simply dead and flowers that are everlasting?

If none of this is an obstacle, then sure. Do it. Dried flowers are far less of a cliche that a red rose — unless it’s a dead one. Because despite Shakespeare’s proclamation, a rose is not always a rose, no matter what its stage of decay. Dead rose have a meaning all of their own and carrying a warning label that gifting them can contribute to the death of a relationship.

Hand a dead rose to an older woman, particularly one who would is familiar with euphemism like “faded beauty” and “the bloom off the rose” and you may as well impale yourself on the thorns.

Using anything dead as a declaration of love, is probably best avoided. Since these blooms tenaciously hang on to the semblance of life, their message tends to be more of a back pat. A congratulations for staying the course, even if that course is simply staying alive. They are the fist-bump of flower gifts and honestly, you can do better.