The Richard Gere barrier: Why we can’t gift flowers
I rarely buy flowers. It’s usually only on Mother’s Day, and I must confess I forget even that sometimes. This reluctance stems partly from my genuine lack of knowledge about what flowers to choose. However, on Mother’s Day, it’s easy because flower shops offer curated bouquets, simplifying the decision.
Beyond the difficulty of choice, there is a profound mental wall for us Japanese men. I have never seen anyone waiting for a date with a bouquet in Japan, and I suspect this only happens in movies.
In other words, gifting flowers feels like a mission impossible—a cinematic action sequence reserved only for handsome leading men like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman or Shall We Dance? We ordinary people can’t help but feel that such a show-off act is simply not allowed for the average Japanese man. (Of course, this is merely my own theory, influenced by years of self-imposed cinematic shame.)
The labyrinth of etiquette: Rules designed to induce error
I believe there are three primary difficulties that prevent us from gifting flowers. The first is the tough choice, and the second is the embarrassment mentioned above. While the embarrassment can be overcome with mental training, the difficulty of choice is cultural and structural.
The traditional Japanese culture surrounding flower gifting is impossibly difficult. Let me share some of the typical, headache-inducing rules we must navigate:
- No red flowers for store openings, as the color symbolizes burning and fires.
- Chrysanthemum and cyclamen are often reserved only for funerals.
- Hydrangea (wither easily) and tulip (drop petals) are considered poor choices for happy occasions.
- Potted-flowers are forbidden when visiting someone in the hospital, as they imply a prolonged, “rooted” stay.
- Unlucky numbers (4 or 9) are strictly avoided in bouquets or flower stands.
Do you still have confidence to make it through without errors? To make matters worse, for business-related events, we must carefully examine the balance of business relationships and positions to decide the appropriate size (and price). The flower challenge never ends.
The Greek language of flowers, solved by the florist
The third difficulty is the Language of Flowers (Hanakotoba). Perhaps you face a similar problem in your country. While most assigned meanings are positive, some are quite negative—the typical example being Marigold, which often signifies envy or jealousy. Clearly, this is unsuitable for any gift-giving situation.
Having said that, I must admit that all this intellectual agonizing is probably unnecessary. In reality, modern flower shops nowadays easily help with all these complicated rules, solving everything except our initial mental problem (the Richard Gere Barrier). We worry so much about tradition, only to find the solution is the simple professionalism of a local merchant.
The Begonia’s gentle logic: A humble conclusion
So, after all that complex analysis of cinematic shame, cultural rules, and business etiquette, what is the profound point I’m trying to make?
I just wanted to introduce the flower planting in the garden in front of our company building. We ourselves do this every spring, as shown in the images. I think Begonia was selected probably for its long flowering time, not for its complicated flower language, but I like the choice.
The Hanakotoba of Begonia is gentle: red flowers mean kindness; white means fairness; pink means politeness. We welcome you in our headquarters shop and factory, colored by this humble flower garden and the good hearts spoken in the flower language of Begonia. (I suppose the intellectual pursuit of cultural shame always leads back to the backyard.)
Shungo Ijima
He is travelling around the world. His passion is to explain Japan to the world, from the unique viewpoint accumulated through his career: overseas posting, MBA holder, former official of the Ministry of Finance.