Someone brought the ribbed vase into the office wrapped in three layers of tissue paper like it was a christening gift, set it on the big table without a word, and just stood there waiting for reactions. That caused a proper argument within about ninety seconds, which is fast even for us.
The trouble was the ribs. Half the objection was that they were too deep, casting actual shadows, looking more like a storage jar for lentils than anything you’d put flowers in. The defence was that the shadows were the entire point, that a flat vase is just a vase and this one does something different depending on where the sun is, and honestly, both things are true, which made the argument worse, not better.
It stayed on the table for a week out of spite while everyone decided what they actually thought. Then it moved to the windowsill in the kitchen, which turned out to be the best possible accident, because morning light hits those grooves and throws a stripy little shadow show across the counter that nobody planned for and everybody now pretends they did.
We have put almost everything in it since. Dried eucalyptus, which looked fine and expected.
A single stem of something bright orange from someone’s garden, which looked genuinely brilliant, the ribs sort of holding it upright without any of that floral foam nonsense.
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Once, out of desperation on a Friday, three supermarket carnations still in their plastic sleeve, and it somehow made them look intentional, which is either the vase doing its job or all of us lowering our standards. Possibly both.
It does not love an overflowing, chaotic bunch. We learned that the hard way when someone crammed in a bouquet the size of a toddler and the whole thing looked like it was wearing a bad wig. Restraint is the move here. One stem, three stems, five if you’re feeling brave, never the full florist bucket.
It’s ceramic, it’s heavier than it looks, and it has survived one actual drop onto a wooden floor with nothing worse than a small chip on the base that only one person has ever noticed and will not stop mentioning.
The argument never fully resolved, if we’re honest. There’s still a faction that thinks it’s a bit much for a vase, that it’s trying too hard, doing too much talking for an object that’s supposed to just hold water. The other side thinks that’s exactly why it’s still on the windowsill eight months later and not in a box in the loft with the things nobody argued about at all. We’re calling that a win, even if we can’t all agree on why.
