Nipple-wafting Charlie Dimmock is our leader now
Why is everyone obsessed with plants?
After moderate bouts of hay fever throughout my life, the idea of “bringing the outdoors in” sounds repugnant at best and at worst, lethal. Green-fingered I most certainly am not, yet the majority of people that I know are so enamoured with plants it’s as if they have synergistically enlisted on a cultish movement led by the nipple-wafting icon that is Charlie Dimmock from Ground Force. (Non-UK readers, that reference may be lost on you. Think Emrata but into plants - kind of.)
Garnering slightly more responsibility than a Tamagotchi but not remotely as interesting, my first plant was a mini cactus. What better to give a child than a living organism that could perforate their delicate skin, like the botanical version of a dermaroller. Not having a garden growing up, my immediate green space was a communal lawn shared by hundreds of other flats in which, until a fob-controlled entry system was built, there was a high possibility of finding used needles and drug paraphernalia. Aged 11, despite not ever having met any members of N-Dubz, we moved out of Camden and into a garden-equipped home in Hertfordshire. Plagued with pollen and insects, I kept my distance.
Biophilia is human’s innate biological connection with nature and therefore conceptually, biophilic design incorporating natural elements makes complete sense. Supposedly proven to be advantageous for both our mental and physical wellbeing, I can personally attest to loving nothing more than getting inebriated in a pub garden, densely populated with hanging baskets, or at the beach with the soothing whisper of the waves. I just don’t want my house to look like a glorified B&Q.
Ostensibly the only thing cherished more than plants are dead plants. Up 600% in the last year as a Google search term, the collective arbitrary decision to adorn our homes with dried pampas grass is driving me mad. For all intents and purposes, this gentrified hay has silently waltzed into our social consciousness and is conspicuously in the background of nearly every Instagram upload, usurping avocado toast and sheet-mask selfies as the digital symbol of having your shit together.
And yet despite that, thanks to lockdown my horticultural prowess has been activated due to Marks & Spencer’s Little Garden initiative. M&S for any readers outside of the UK, is a retail national treasure in which you can buy a 5-pack of knickers and smoked salmon sandwich all under one roof. Clearly aimed at children, I am a 29 year old fiercely independent female that won’t be dissuaded from trying to become self-sufficient and growing my own lettuce. How eyeopening to see the fruits of ones labour when actively nurturing and putting effort into something, like a herbaceous analogy for relationships. Fingers crossed this one isn’t toxic and in due course you can join me for a socially-distanced salad.
Loved this!!