People often assume that because I work with flowers, I must have always dreamed of becoming a florist. The truth is, it wasn't quite that straightforward. For as long as I can remember, I've been drawn to creating with my hands. Art was always the subject I gravitated towards at school. I loved the process of making something from nothing. Experimenting with shape, texture and composition, and discovering how small details could completely change the way something felt.
I didn't necessarily know what form that creativity would take as an adult. I just knew I wanted to build a career where I could create something meaningful. Flowers happened to become the medium. What I realised very quickly was that floral design wasn't just about arranging beautiful blooms. It sat somewhere between art and storytelling. It was sculptural, emotional and deeply personal all at once. I began to see flowers less as individual stems and more as materials. Branches that introduced movement. Delicate petals that softened a space. Unexpected textures that created contrast and depth. Every arrangement became an opportunity to shape an atmosphere and evoke a feeling.
In many ways, I approach floristry much like I would approach creating a piece of art. I think about balance and proportion. About negative space and how the eye travels through a design. About how something looks from every angle, but more importantly, how it makes people feel when they step into a room. I don't think weddings need to be overly styled to be beautiful.
The celebrations that resonate with me most are often the ones that feel thoughtful rather than perfect. The ones where flowers enhance what's already there instead of competing for attention. A beautiful arrangement enhancing the shape and lively energy at the bar. A ceremony installation that feels as though it belongs within the architecture of the venue. Bouquets that feel like mini, handheld sculptures that flow effortlessly with the bridal gown. I want the flowers to feel like a natural extension of the day itself.
My Italian heritage has also shaped the way I think about weddings. Growing up, celebrations were never just events on a calendar. They revolved around people gathering around a table, sharing food, telling stories and lingering long after the meal had finished. There was beauty in the abundance, but also in the simplicity of it all. Fresh produce from the garden. Intricate doilies draped across tables. Candles burning low as conversations stretched into the evening.
It wasn't about creating a picture perfect moment for someone else to admire. It was about creating an atmosphere that encouraged people to connect. I think that philosophy quietly finds its way into my work. I'm endlessly inspired by European summers, old world architecture, art galleries, the texture of weathered stone, the softness of worn linen and the imperfect way nature grows. I love arrangements that feel a little untamed, that celebrate movement and seasonality rather than strict symmetry.
But I'm equally inspired by the couples I work with. The way they describe how they want their day to feel. The traditions they choose to honour. The small details that matter to them and the ones they're happy to let go of. No two weddings are ever the same, and that's what keeps this work interesting. When I founded Viva Le Fiori, it was never simply about providing wedding flowers. It was about helping couples create an experience that felt like them. One where the flowers don't just fill a space, but contribute to the atmosphere. Where guests walk in and immediately understand the feeling of the day before a single word has been spoken.
Looking back, becoming a wedding floral designer feels less like a career I stumbled into and more like a natural meeting point between all the things I've always loved. Art and emotion. Beauty and storytelling. Gathering and celebration. And flowers just happened to bring them all together.
Stay blooming beautiful,
Lavinia
Founder & Creative Director, Viva Le Fiori