Everything in this place is green. Never mind that a lot of it has faded into sickly pale greens over the years. The curtains are green, the chicken wire is green, the foam is green, the Xerox machine sits atop a sea-green box, the woman at the counter slicing off the green stem of a carnation is smoking a cigarette from a green box.
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Classes are held every day from nine to five. Each day they cover a different topic: one day funerals, another day centerpieces. Students spend half their time in the classroom and the rest in the workshop learning to design arrangements. They are taught by Moretz, by Al Mendoza, who runs a flower shop in South Holland, and by Bill Peklo, who gave up a 25-year career as an accountant to become a florist. The three-week course costs 600 bucks, which includes materials such as flowers, wires, and foam.
The school was started in 1937, when a woman named Tommy Bright wanted to teach floral design to war veterans. It was called Bright’s School of Floral Design until William Kistler, a posthumous inductee into the Floricultural Hall of Fame, took over in 1951. Kistler’s specter still looms over the school. He was a world traveler, and the walls of the school are decorated with artifacts and photos from Egypt, Morocco, Pakistan, South Africa. His world’s-largest bouquet-holder collection is displayed behind a glass panel, and an Ethiopian cross, which was used by priests in blessing ceremonies, hangs on the wall. There are pictures of Kistler with Johnny Mathis, Mae West, and one of the school’s most celebrated graduates, Rusty Young, who served as White House floral designer under five presidents.
“Don’t get carried away to the point where you lose common sense,” Moretz admonishes his students. “As cute as it is, is it logical for plants to grow out of the back of an animal?”
“The difference between Europeans and Americans is that there people have learned to live with flowers on a daily basis,” said Moretz. “You go grocery shopping over there, and you buy a few flowers. It’s like buying Coke or milk or bread. For most Americans, it’s based on an occasion. You’ve got to get sick, you’ve got to get married, you’ve got to be born, and you’ve got to die. And that’s when we buy our flowers.” But, he said, “Flowers are better than booze, and they’re better than cigarettes. They’re the best gift. I don’t think a flower has ever hurt anybody.”
