In Logo Loco I told you all about the way in which Mr Moore and I adapted Perrier-Jouet’s logo to create our wedding monogram. And, if you caught that post, you’ll know that whilst we retained the beautifully entwined P&J, we swapped Perrier-Jouet’s trademark anemones for an outline of the flowers and foliage which comprised my wedding bouquet. Given that we were to be married in October, it would have been entirely fitting to have dispensed with the floral motif altogether and to have surrounded the P&J with curling autumnal leaves, acorns and berries. But, from the very outset, it was clear that A Warwickshire Wedding was destined to be infused with a very strong floral theme.

For whilst I’m not remotely green-fingered – how I wish I was – I do love flowers. So when I chose an engagement ring back in 2009, I eschewed a traditional solitaire, for a slender platinum band called ‘Bloom’ comprising ten tiny diamonds arranged around a slightly larger stone, thereby forming the shape of a little flower.

Bloom was, in fact, part of what the French call a ‘parure’; a set of three or more pieces of matching jewellery.  In this case a ring, a pair of tiny flower shaped earrings and a diamond flower pendant necklace.

If our numbers had come up I’d have commissioned one further matching piece: a diamond tiara. As it was, however, I opted for a very lovely and very reasonably priced alternative: a bespoke diamante flower and leaf hair band designed and made by Andrew Prince, who just happens to be the man behind all those gorgeous tiaras and hair accessories sported by Lady Mary et al in Downton Abbey.  You can read more about Andrew Prince in The Day I Saw the Queen and Met a Prince.

One thing I certainly wouldn’t have changed, even if I’d suddenly found myself in receipt of several million pounds, is my rose gold and diamond wedding ring. For although it was essentially an ‘off the shelf’ piece made by Ungar and Ungar, the similarity between each of the four tiny flowers with the larger flower of my engagement ring was such that it really could have been commissioned just for me.  It made me feel that finding ways to introduce floral elements into our wedding was more a case of destiny being fulfilled than any success on my part.

Such it was with my wedding dress, the name of which I only discovered after I had bought it. It was called ‘Fleur’: the perfect name for a dress which has delicate fabric flowers stitched onto the bodice and descending like a waterfall down the full length of the skirt and train.  When I first tried it on and saw my reflection in the mirror, it looked as if I was almost floating in a pool of ivory petals.

I was very keen to ensure that MoH’s dress echoed mine both in style and detail, particularly with regard to the floral motif, but thought it unlikely that I would be able to find the sort of thing I wanted until, just on the off chance, MoH and I walked into local bridal boutique, Singular Sensation, and found there, sandwiched in a rack of rainbow coloured silk and taffeta dresses, the perfect gown just waiting to be discovered.  Full-length and made from the same sort of floaty chiffon material as my dress, it had a softly ruched bodice decorated with a diagonal line of, yes you’ve guessed it, chiffon flowers studded with little diamante stones.  It was one of those moments when everything just seemed to fall into place and it felt as if the Universe was giving the ‘thumbs-up’ to A Warwickshire Wedding’s flower theme.

Then there was the architecture of the church building itself. If you’ve read ‘What a Ding Dong’, you’ll know that we had originally planned to marry at Hampton Lucy’s parish church and only visited the neighbouring Warwickshire village of Sherbourne because we were told that, unlike St Peter ad Vincula, Sherbourne’s church, All Saints, had a full set of bells. And yet it was the architectural detail of All Saints, as much as the bells, that won us over. Conceived by that eminent Victorian, Gilbert Scott (the creative force behind St Pancras) the rich, and botanically accurate, sculptural detail of flowers and foliage in stone, marble and wood is a wonderful celebration of the natural world, not to mention a testament to the tremendous skill of the craftsmen who transformed Gilbert-Scott’s vision into reality.

So as you can see, there was never really any doubt that our P&J monogram needed to be embellished with some sort of floral motif. And, what better choice than a pictorial representation of the flowers which comprised my bridal bouquet? Now whilst seasoned followers of A Warwickshire Wedding will know full well which flowers I chose, others may be left guessing. So, at this juncture, I’m going to press the pause button for today and leave you mull over all the floral possibilities while I set about polishing my next post when all will be revealed.