Seraphine
An angel, wrapped in linen
Blush pink lilies open like cupped hands at the heart of this bouquet, cradled in a soft cloud of baby's breath and wrapped in three layers of whisper-thin ivory paper. Seraphine is a quiet kind of grandeur — the bouquet you hand someone when ordinary words feel too small. Each lily petal carries that faint, dreamlike pink that lives between sunrise and a held breath, and the gypsophila drifts around it like a halo. It's the kind of gift that doesn't shout; it glows.
For ethereal devotion
Composed with
- 1 stem of pink lily
- 1 bunch of gypsophila (baby's breath)
- 3 layers of premium wrapping paper
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Rosetta
One rose. One promise. Nothing else needed.
A single red rose — chosen for its perfect, unbruised head — stands tall inside a sheer cellophane sleeve, dressed in midnight-black crepe petals that flare around the stem like the skirt of a gown. Finished with a slim crimson satin ribbon tied into a soft bow, Rosetta is the bouquet that doesn't need to explain itself. One rose has always meant one thing — "you, and only you" — and the black wrap turns that whisper into a statement: serious, devoted, a little dramatic, deeply romantic. Hand it over on a first date, slip it into the seat of a car, leave it on a pillow. It's the smallest grand gesture in the shop.
Blushing Grace
Soft as a first hello, sweet as a held hand
Ten plump pink rosebuds — each one caught at that perfect, just-about-to-open moment — cluster together like a circle of friends sharing a secret. Their petals carry that impossible bubblegum-pink that looks lit from within, framed by glossy emerald leaves that make the colour sing even louder. Pink roses, in the old floriographies, mean grace, admiration, and a happiness that's still a little shy of itself. The whole bouquet is cradled in two generous wraps of soft rose-pink crepe paper folded into a graceful cone, and finished with a striped grosgrain ribbon in cherry-red and white — the kind of bow that turns a delivery into an occasion. Send it for a first date, a sweet sixteen, a thank-you, or a Tuesday that deserved more than a text.
Elegance Desire
A cathedral of pink roses, carried like a secret
An extravagant gathering of spray roses — dozens of small, perfectly-formed pink heads blooming in tiers along tall emerald stems — rises out of the wrap like a slow exhale. Each cluster carries that soft, candlelit pink that sits exactly between blush and bubblegum: feminine, romantic, a little theatrical. The stems are tall and proudly bare, gathered into a single tight grip and sleeved in crystal-clear cellophane that's folded into a sharp architectural cone, so the whole bouquet reads like a stained-glass window held up to the light. A wide, glossy pink satin ribbon is tied at the throat into a generous double bow, its long tails trailing past the wrist. Spray roses, by tradition, are roses multiplied — admiration in plural, affection said over and over in the same breath. Hand this one across a doorway and you're not whispering a feeling anymore; you're announcing it.