I was a late bloomer when it came to floral design (pardon the pun). I’ve always been vaguely creative; I can remember spending hours on end as a child, sketching, beading, building elaborate fairy villages in the woods outside my home, and creating doll clothing. As a teen, I became obsessed with fashion and turned magazine cuttings from Vogue, Elle, and W into an enormous collage that covered my bedroom walls. I pored over these magazines, studying the haute couture work of revolutionary designers such as Jean Paul Gaultier, Thierry Mugler, and Christian Lacroix. But although I could be utterly consumed with a given creative obsession, I never pursued any of them seriously enough to imagine that one day I’d have a career in the arts. It was entirely by chance that I found this work.
After many years spent traveling, working as a line cook, waitress, and restaurant manager, and halfheartedly exploring possible careers—chef and physical therapist being the most promising prospects—I found myself back in my hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan, finishing a bachelor of science degree and making jewelry for friends and for sale at a local boutique. I was in my late twenties, and many of my friends and acquaintances were getting married. Word of my jewelry-making hobby got out, and I started to receive requests to create jewelry pieces for local weddings. One friend asked me to make jewelry for herself and her bridesmaids, and as we talked, she confided that she hadn’t yet hired a florist. Her wedding was just a few months away, and it was clear she was concerned about this missing detail. I can still recall her exact words as she grasped my arm and asked me if I would be her florist: “You’re creative; you can probably do this!”
I agreed to design for her wedding, thinking it would be an interesting challenge, but I was not overly excited by the idea. It wasn’t until I held her flowers in my hands that I recognized a transformation occurring inside me. My fingernails were stained black from the toil, I hadn’t properly slept or eaten in days, I was absolutely exhausted, and the work had turned my kitchen into a veritable compost pile, but I had a permanent grin on my face, as I completely connected with the medium of flowers. I’d accidentally found a new creative obsession, and I recognized that this feeling deserved proper exploration. I felt a strong compulsion to envelop myself in the world of floral design. So I tucked all of my jewelry-making supplies away and dedicated myself fully to exploring this new passion.
Just as word of my jewelry hobby had spread, so did word of my floral design hobby. And as more of my friends married, I designed their wedding flowers, gifting my labor as a wedding present. As my passion grew, I sought out every learning opportunity. I read every floral design book I could get my hands on at my local library, watched every video I could find, and took every class I could afford. I earned a certification through the Michigan Floral Association, and through that program I found my first mentor, Dorota Knobloch. When I happened upon her work, I saw that floral design could be incredibly artful, imaginative, evocative, and expressive—just like the work of the couture fashion designers I’d admired all of my life. Her work further stoked my curiosity, and I realized that in order to grow, I needed to find full-time work as a florist to immerse myself in this craft. I left the restaurant job that had been my comfortable nest for more than a decade and found work in a bustling floral shop. There I designed for every kind of occasion, including everyday, funerals, and plenty of weddings and events. The experience gave me much-needed skills and confidence, but after a few years of floral shop work, my curious and restless nature tugged at me once more, and I felt the need to move forward. It was then that my own studio, Passionflower, was born.
The name for my studio was inspired by an experience I had during a trip to southern Italy with my now husband. I happened upon a passionflower vine growing on a stone wall, and it was the first time in my adult life that I was completely captivated by a flower. The passionflower plant is fascinating—with its multicolored petals and sepals, its incredibly ornate and intricately colored radial filaments, and its swirling, reaching tendrils that seem almost sentient. It absolutely mesmerized me, and there I was—entranced and frozen in the moment. I loved that this flower had the power to create pause. Each time I see a passionflower, a sort of calm washes over me and I’m transported back to that sunny stone wall in southern Italy. I named my studio Passionflower because I wanted my designs to evoke that same feeling of fascination, curiosity, and pausing to appreciate the moment, here and now. I wanted to give people that visceral experience through my work.
I never could have predicted how transformative the next several years would be.
Work as an event florist can be exhilarating, but it is also mentally and physically exhausting. And it can be terribly isolating. As I plodded forward, often spending long hours working alone—sometimes with a fussy baby strapped to my back—I yearned for connection and growth.
As my studio gained traction, the task of producing weddings started to feel restrictive and repetitive. It no longer inspired me, and I wasn’t sure if my work was speaking to others in the way I initially intended. My insatiable curiosity pushed me to want to learn more. I wanted to continue to grow and move in a more artful direction, so I dove further into the floral world online and discovered a virtual constellation of inspiration. Incredibly artistic florists with passion equal to mine were out there—all I had to do was reach out and connect!
And connect I did. In 2013, I won a seat in one of floral couture florist Françoise Weeks’s workshops. I’d admired her work online for years. Her impossibly detailed, supernatural work spoke with a voice uniquely hers. In the quiet of her studio, I was encouraged to explore until my own creative voice was audible—something I desperately wanted at that time. I returned home invigorated and determined to create floral art representative of my love for nature and floral design.
Shortly after returning home from this transformational workshop, I was asked to create floral jewelry for a photo shoot taking place in California. While I was designing for that shoot, it finally clicked in my mind that I could fuse my longtime love of fashion and jewelry design with my current floral obsession.
When I saw the photos from that shoot, I realized I was on to something very exciting. Not only did the work inspire me, but the reaction from the public was overwhelmingly positive and encouraging. I dusted off my jewelry-making supplies and, with renewed focus, shifted my energy toward creating wearable floral art. I realized that if I focused on creating work that spoke to me, it would also speak to others. The more “myself” I was as a designer, the greater the reaction I received. This wonderful metamorphosis opened a floodgate of inspiration, and I’ve been caught in that current ever since.
As I practiced using my creative voice, I started to gain artistic clarity and confidence, and I began to connect with like-minded florists and photographers around the world. I shared my ideas and passion with them, and they with me, and these interactions resulted in numerous opportunities to teach, travel, collaborate, innovate, and share. One of these vital collaborations is with photographer Amanda Dumouchelle, whose gorgeous photographs fill this book. My work with Amanda has been instrumental in allowing me to show the world the work I want to make—instead of waiting for the world to ask me to make it! Her art has given life to mine, and I’m so grateful for the places it’s taken me.
I share this book with the hope that the art of floral design inspires you as it has me; that the projects presented here beckon you to slow down, to marvel at the ephemeral beauty of nature. With this book, my full journey is realized—from fashion-obsessed dreamer to floral instructor and artist. I’ve shed my studio name, and no longer focus on weddings (although I’ve retained and use the nickname “Passionflower Sue” for Instagram and my online class website); instead, I share what I’ve learned over the years in an effort to do my part in pushing floral artistry forward. I encourage you to be fearless and experimental in your own work, borrow from the lessons here, create that which you crave to see, and cultivate your own artistic voice. And I encourage you to carefully document your floral art and share it widely—you never know what opportunities may arise from it!
The projects in this book are organized by type of wearable, from simple floral jewels to elaborate headpieces—and so much more. Each project includes step-by-step instructions and photos and a list of the ingredients I’ve used for the design; feel free to substitute your own favorites or experiment with materials you find in your garden or at the local market. Many of these projects may look complex, but they are designed to be approachable even for a novice. I’ve also sprinkled bonus photos of wearable designs throughout the book, which I hope will further inspire your creations. It’s my goal to empower all—flower enthusiasts, gardeners, fashionistas, novice designers, dreamers, and seasoned florists—to create wearable floral art that stokes wonder, curiosity, and an appreciation for the beauty of nature.
