A Crate of Roses

My first job out of college was at an investment bank that no longer exists. Objectively speaking the job wasn't bad. My colleagues were friendly, my commute was blessedly short and subway free, and I was getting paid more than a 22 year old ever should. But subjectively I was miserable. I was uninspired by what I considered to be the rather esoteric work. Everything and everyone that I was surrounded by each day just seemed rather...beige.

After a little more than a year working at the doomed bank I met Paul. And although my life outside work became fabulously exciting when we began to see each other, there was little that could be done about my life during the workday. Or so I thought.


Valentine's Day, which to this day is a holiday I find somewhat repulsive, rolled around. I insisted that we would not go out for a celebratory dinner. I refused to endorse the exorbitant prices that restaurants charge on this day. No, I would cook instead. I wanted no fuss made in the public realm.


But regardless, much to my surprise, a crate of perfect pink roses from Spruce arrived at my desk that day.

Suddenly, everything seemed a lot less beige. Not only was the pink color enlivening, but the arrangement, which looked a bit like a garden in a box, transcended that tired old Valentine's Day standby of a dozen roses, god forbid with baby's breath. I was happy not only due to my unusually close proximity to beauty that day, but also happy that the man that I had been falling so hard and fast for was just as thoughtful, creative and unique as I thought he was.

So when I had occasion to send some flowers recently, I am totally at a loss to explain why Spruce didn't come to mind immediately. Instead I was doing a somewhat absurd amount of research on New York florists, and in the process was becoming increasingly frustrated by the prices. Who knew a bouquet could cost more than a dinner at Per Se? At a certain point it seems that the recipient would rather have the cash than the overpriced blooms.

But I found myself walking up Eighth Avenue the other day and passed Spruce's retail store. The vibrant blossoms were too great of a draw, I had to go in. I got to chatting with the friendliest shopgirl ever (I embarrassingly have now forgotten her name). As I was admiring the larger crates but lamenting the prices, she mentioned that they could put together a 6 rose crate for only $35. Now that was more like it! The yellow roses trimmed with red coupled with a reasonable delivery charge compelled me to make the purchase. Here's hoping the recipient enjoys them as much as I did all those years ago!