Built for the blue hour on the Bosphorus, when the ferries go quiet and the water turns the colour of a bruise that's healing. Iris, plum scabiosa and a single trailing amaranth.
A flower that
crossed the water.
Nilüfer means water lily — a flower that roots in the deep and blooms on the surface, between two worlds. It is also my name. I think I was always going to do this.
İstanbul is the city my heart answers to — the last shore I stood on before I crossed to another continent. I carried its light, its colour and its longing onto a plane and brought it here, to another city of fog and water, where the bridge is gold instead of stone.
So this studio lives on two shores. I don't make bouquets. I make pieces — each one built around a single feeling I'm trying to carry across the water, and the story travels with it. You're not buying flowers. You're receiving a piece of where my heart is, grown by hand and sent to where I am now.
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