Field Notes

What Does Sustainable Floristry Mean in Practice?

November 2, 2026

Most of the packaging on our benches hasn't really changed since the 1950s. Foam blocks, plastic water picks, cello sleeves, the little water bubble tied around a bouquet. We swap the material now and then, but the idea stays the same.

So when people ask what being a sustainable florist means, I don't have a tidy answer. I have a practice. And it starts with something I see a lot in our industry that I think does more harm than good: shaming.

Sustainability isn't one size fits all

If you've spent any time in floral circles online, you've seen it. The foam-free crowd calling out anyone who still uses foam. The local-only crowd side-eyeing imported roses. It's become a purity test, and I don't think it's working.

Shame doesn't make people change. It makes them hide. It makes newer florists afraid to ask questions, and it makes experienced florists stop talking about what they actually do behind the bench. Nobody improves in silence.

Using foam doesn't make you a lesser florist, and going foam-free doesn't make you a better one. Right now, these are choices, not a measure of your craft.

Here's my position: sustainability isn't one rule that fits every florist, every design or every situation. It's a series of choices. And the first step isn't going foam-free or buying local. The first step is awareness.

Awareness: the waste we can choose to avoid

Awareness means knowing where the waste in our industry actually happens, so we can choose to avoid some of it. Even in small ways.

Here's something that surprised me. Nobody has actually measured how much plastic floristry uses. The American Floral Endowment says it outright: plastic use in floristry is unquantified to date. We are an industry that counts every stem and nobody has counted the plastic.

What we do know:

Flowers get packaged over and over. Between the grower and your doorstep, a bunch can be packaged several times, often re-sleeved from one plastic into another.
Floral foam is plastic. According to the Sustainable Floristry Network, one brick of foam weighs about the same as 10 plastic bags. And unlike a bag, it crumbles into microplastics every time we cut it, soak it or rinse it down the drain. A global survey found 72% of florists who use foam pour the wastewater down the sink or drain.
"Cello" usually isn't cellophane. Real cellophane is made from wood pulp and breaks down. Most of what we call cello is polypropylene, which is plastic. The sleeves our bunches arrive in are plastic too. Quick test: if it stretches, it's plastic.
"Compostable" rarely gets composted. Most compostable packaging needs an industrial facility. Here in London, the green bin doesn't accept compostable packaging, even when it's certified, and Toronto pulls compostable plastics out and sends them to landfill.

The honest truth? Most of what we wrap flowers in ends up in the trash, whatever the label says. Knowing that changes how I look at every product on my shelf.

And that's where "biodegradable" falls apart. Things only break down when microorganisms have air, moisture and warmth to work with, like in a compost pile. A landfill is the opposite. It's built to compact waste, seal it in and keep it put. Even PLA, the plant-based plastic in most compostable bags, is unlikely to decompose there, according to the company that makes it. And the things that do break down in a landfill do it without oxygen, which releases methane, a greenhouse gas.

So biodegradable is a promise about conditions most of our packaging will never reach. The better questions are: Is it harmless while it sits there? Is it harmless if it ends up as litter? And can I use less of it in the first place?

A quick tip if you're in London: your old flowers can go in the green bin, as long as they're free of any plastic. Pull off the sleeves, ties and elastic bands first.

Informed choices

To me, making an informed choice means three things: doing the research to understand the alternatives, actually giving them a fair chance in your own work, and then choosing based on the job in front of you.

That last part matters. Every alternative has its own application, and none of them work for everything. Here's what decides it for me:

Weather and heat. Flowers drink fast in the heat. When it's hot, I can't gamble on a mechanic I don't trust. A failed arrangement is wasted flowers, wasted materials and a disappointed client.
Time on site. A two-hour reception and a weekend install need very different things.
Time to build. Some event setups simply don't give you the hours.
Structure. Hanging, overhead and large-scale work fail differently. That's a safety question, not just a looks question.
Cost. Alternatives often cost a lot more, and cross-border shipping and the exchange rate add up fast.

So here's where I land. I don't use foam in my everyday work. But I will use it for an event setup when time is the issue. When I do, I offset it in other ways. I use soaked moss and chicken wire wherever I can. I wash and reuse my water picks, although I'd rather not use them at all. And I keep buckets in every size so stems can sit in water instead of in a mechanic. I'm always looking for ideas on how to do better.

I'll be honest about the rest, too. Zip ties. The industry absolutely loves them. Until we find a better solution, they stay. That's what informed choices look like in real life: you fix what you can and you stay honest about what you can't yet.

One more thing I've learned: impact doesn't disappear, it moves. Swap foam for an alternative and you haven't automatically won. You've traded one footprint for another. Mined rock, shipped coir, wild-harvested moss. Even plant-based "biofoam" was found to leach more than twice the phenolic compounds of regular foam in one study. Natural doesn't always mean better. It means you have to look closer.

My field notes on the alternatives

I've used all of these. None of them is the answer for everything, and that's exactly the point. Match the mechanic to the job.

Mechanic	Good for	Watch out for
Soaked moss	Wreaths, garlands, installs, a natural look	Know where it was harvested. Forms often hide plastic netting. Heavy and drippy when wet
Chicken wire and a vessel	Everyday vase work, loose garden styles, large installations	Needs a vessel. Less control for tight or structured designs
Kenzans and pin frogs	Minimal and ikebana-style work, shallow vessels	Limited stem count, not for transport
Tape grids	Quick vase arrangements	The tape is usually plastic too. Less hold for tall work
Glass vials and test tubes	Single stems, installs, reusable for years	Breakage, weight, upfront cost
Oshun pouches	Day-of installations	A coco coir pouch that expands to fit, but it has to sit in a container that holds water. It can't stand alone like foam
Agra Wool	Works much like foam in a container	You have to pre-poke holes, it costs a lot more, and it's made from mined basalt shipped from the Netherlands. I haven't tested it over several days yet
Plastic water picks	Sympathy work, wearables, single stems	Single-use unless you collect and clean them

Local versus global

Does supporting local growers help? Absolutely. Do I think that means we should abandon the global flower market? Absolutely not.

Here's why. A lot of global growers have adapted serious sustainable practices. Kenyan roses can use 65% less water than standard Dutch greenhouse roses, according to a Fairtrade study. Some farms run on geothermal energy. And the Dutch auction that moves much of the world's flowers now expects most of its suppliers to be certified under the Floriculture Sustainability Initiative.

Then there's our reality here in Ontario. In February, local means a tiny palette or a heated greenhouse, and heating a greenhouse through a Canadian winter has its own footprint.

So just because a flower came over on a plane doesn't mean it's harmful. What matters is how it was grown, and the only way to know is to ask. I buy from the Dutch market through Holex, and their webshop lets me filter for FSI-compliant product. How much of my order qualifies changes with every order, but the option to choose is right there.

Certification isn't perfect either. But it's a real, informed choice, and that's the whole point.

Always improving

I'm not writing this because I've figured it all out. I'm writing it because I'm always thinking about how to improve my own operations, and the industry.

Some of it is how I run the studio. I make to order instead of stockpiling, so less product ends up in the bin. I consolidate delivery days in busy seasons to cut down on trips.

Some of it is testing. I keep trying new mechanics and materials, and I keep notes on what actually holds up. There are alternatives out there for almost everything, even zip ties. Whether they're realistic for a working studio is another question, and that's the one I keep asking.

And some of it is bigger. Retail floristry hasn't had the same innovation as the growers who supply us, especially when it comes to packaging. I'm working on solutions to some of the problems I've described here. More on that when the time is right.

That's before we even get to pesticides, which deserve a post of their own. I've already started that conversation with why we're still spraying Canadian forests with herbicide.

So what does being a sustainable florist mean in practice? It means being aware. Doing the research. Giving alternatives a real chance. Making the best choice for the job in front of you, being honest about it, and doing a little better next time. No shaming required.

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