The tales of a florist, stylist, and photographer keepin' it simple in San Francisco, California. This is the home to my stories, inspirations, photography & (when I get really lucky) travels.

amandavidmar.com
& lead design at aliciakdesigns.com
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  
Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  
I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   
I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  

Springtime in the Pine Street Studio  

I’m at the point where I’ve been completely blind-sighted that the dark days (in the flower world) of winter were even here to begin with.  What I’m learning, though, is that you need to have the bad to see the good—life wouldn’t be so wonderful if it were just bubbles and cakes all of the time.   

I have continued to be inspired by the new people around me recently, and am excited for the next few months of (possible) dress-wearing, creating, and growing.  

I never quite understood the meaning of Spring as a florist up until this year, but seriously? Come on now.  Mother Nature showers us with so many nice things this time of year. I am falling deeply, deeply in love with lilac.  
Happy Easter to you all.  I remember falling in love with flowers around this time last year—who would have thought that just 365 days can bring about so much change.  Today I am resting up from a very busy week at work and enjoying the company of good friends and good food. 
With that said—and as my trusty housemate quotes (day-in-age-currency accounted for): “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a flower with the other.”
I never quite understood the meaning of Spring as a florist up until this year, but seriously? Come on now.  Mother Nature showers us with so many nice things this time of year. I am falling deeply, deeply in love with lilac.  
Happy Easter to you all.  I remember falling in love with flowers around this time last year—who would have thought that just 365 days can bring about so much change.  Today I am resting up from a very busy week at work and enjoying the company of good friends and good food. 
With that said—and as my trusty housemate quotes (day-in-age-currency accounted for): “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a flower with the other.”
I never quite understood the meaning of Spring as a florist up until this year, but seriously? Come on now.  Mother Nature showers us with so many nice things this time of year. I am falling deeply, deeply in love with lilac.  
Happy Easter to you all.  I remember falling in love with flowers around this time last year—who would have thought that just 365 days can bring about so much change.  Today I am resting up from a very busy week at work and enjoying the company of good friends and good food. 
With that said—and as my trusty housemate quotes (day-in-age-currency accounted for): “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a flower with the other.”
I never quite understood the meaning of Spring as a florist up until this year, but seriously? Come on now.  Mother Nature showers us with so many nice things this time of year. I am falling deeply, deeply in love with lilac.  
Happy Easter to you all.  I remember falling in love with flowers around this time last year—who would have thought that just 365 days can bring about so much change.  Today I am resting up from a very busy week at work and enjoying the company of good friends and good food. 
With that said—and as my trusty housemate quotes (day-in-age-currency accounted for): “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a flower with the other.”
I never quite understood the meaning of Spring as a florist up until this year, but seriously? Come on now.  Mother Nature showers us with so many nice things this time of year. I am falling deeply, deeply in love with lilac.  
Happy Easter to you all.  I remember falling in love with flowers around this time last year—who would have thought that just 365 days can bring about so much change.  Today I am resting up from a very busy week at work and enjoying the company of good friends and good food. 
With that said—and as my trusty housemate quotes (day-in-age-currency accounted for): “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a flower with the other.”

I never quite understood the meaning of Spring as a florist up until this year, but seriously? Come on now. Mother Nature showers us with so many nice things this time of year. I am falling deeply, deeply in love with lilac.

Happy Easter to you all. I remember falling in love with flowers around this time last year—who would have thought that just 365 days can bring about so much change. Today I am resting up from a very busy week at work and enjoying the company of good friends and good food.

With that said—and as my trusty housemate quotes (day-in-age-currency accounted for): “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a flower with the other.”

Just a bit of what I’ve been working on here at my studio—ahem—living room.
A big kiss on the face to my housemate who lets me turn communal space to a flower fun house.  
San Francisco has graced us with the most beautiful weather of all this week.  If you were a tourist in this city this week, you would probably want to move here immediately. However, it is gloomy and gross here nearly 8 months out of the year despite the contrary.  I’m sulking in it—letting the warmth enwrap my body and the spring swathe my soul.  
Flowers and Photography by Amanda Vidmar 
Just a bit of what I’ve been working on here at my studio—ahem—living room.
A big kiss on the face to my housemate who lets me turn communal space to a flower fun house.  
San Francisco has graced us with the most beautiful weather of all this week.  If you were a tourist in this city this week, you would probably want to move here immediately. However, it is gloomy and gross here nearly 8 months out of the year despite the contrary.  I’m sulking in it—letting the warmth enwrap my body and the spring swathe my soul.  
Flowers and Photography by Amanda Vidmar 

Just a bit of what I’ve been working on here at my studio—ahem—living room.

A big kiss on the face to my housemate who lets me turn communal space to a flower fun house.  

San Francisco has graced us with the most beautiful weather of all this week.  If you were a tourist in this city this week, you would probably want to move here immediately. However, it is gloomy and gross here nearly 8 months out of the year despite the contrary.  I’m sulking in it—letting the warmth enwrap my body and the spring swathe my soul.  

Flowers and Photography by Amanda Vidmar 

Ah. There is nothing quite as sweet as having a crazy floral holiday, and then a three day weekend. Thank you, each and every president of the United States of America. Thank you. 

Valentines day? Success. Busy? Crazy. Sanity level? Doing quite well.  Last year, I was a delivery girl.  This year, I managed the orders and designed beautiful things. All. Day. Long. And I couldn’t be happier with all of the new things I’m learning. 

Things are going well.  This week has been one of the most crazy and filled with even more change, but if I recall—every February seems to be this way for me.  This year, I find that I’m handling it much better than last, and that’s all one can hope for.  On the queue in the next few weeks: I’m teaching a flower arranging class! It’s for a women’s club in San Francisco, but a flower class nonetheless.

Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.

Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.

Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 

The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 

Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.