By October the rhythm of the shop changes. There is still fresh colour on the bench — late dahlias in rust and burgundy, chrysanthemums coming properly into their own, the odd tight rose from a grower's second flush — but alongside all of that, something else starts to arrive. Armfuls of dried and preserved stem, bundles of silver honesty, pampas plumes going ivory, strawflowers papery and permanent, seedheads rattling gently in a draught. October is when two seasons share the same buckets, and as a Harrow florist it is the month that asks the most of your eye.
I find it one of the most satisfying months to work. Dried flowers and fresh flowers think differently, and putting them together well — really putting them together rather than scattering a few dried stems apologetically among the fresh — takes a particular kind of attention. Get it right, and an October arrangement looks as though it grew that way.
Dried Flowers, and Why October Is Their Moment
The dried flower conversation has run for several years now, long enough that the trend has settled into something quieter and more honest. What remains after the Instagram moment is a genuine question: when does a dried arrangement actually work, and when is it just dusty?
The answer I have arrived at is that dried flowers work best when they are doing the thing only they can do. Longevity is the obvious one: a well-made dried arrangement on a windowsill or sideboard will hold its colour and shape for months, with nothing more asked of it than the occasional gentle tip to clear the dust. But the more interesting answer is texture. Dried materials offer a surface quality — the crinkled paper of a strawflower petal, the silvery translucency of honesty discs, the soft weight of a pampas plume — that fresh flowers simply cannot replicate. They give an arrangement a different kind of depth.
In October I am working with lunaria, the flat coin-shaped honesty seedpods that catch the light like hammered pewter. Lagurus, bunny tails, for a soft yielding texture that contrasts beautifully with anything architectural. Smaller-headed pampas varieties, which are easier to live with indoors than the great full-sized plumes. Dried hydrangeas, particularly the ones that have faded from summer pink to a pale dusty rose or lilac. And strawflowers in the deep oranges and reds of autumn, colours that hold perfectly because they were always more paper than petal.
Put any of these together with a dried artichoke head or a few nigella seedpods and you have October in a jar. Something that earns its place on the shelf through November and does not apologise for still being there.
Halloween Wreaths: Something Proper for the Door
Halloween has become a genuinely felt occasion in this part of West London, and the front door wreath has quietly become the most visible piece of October decorating. Most of what turns up on the forecourts and the seasonal shelves is plastic and foam, which is understandable, and a shame.
A wreath made from real materials looks entirely different. The ones I build for Halloween use a dried base: preserved leaves in deep amber and claret, dried artichoke heads with their sculptural and slightly gothic geometry, poppy seedheads, lotus pods, the odd spray of dark cotton stem. Bound with a deep burgundy or near-black ribbon, they have a weight and a presence that synthetic ones do not.
The practical advantage of a dried Halloween wreath is that it holds all the way through October without wilting. Hang it in the second week of the month and it looks exactly the same on the night itself. It asks nothing of you in between.
If you are in Harrow or the surrounding HA postcodes, you can order one through the shop and have it on your door the same day, as long as you order before 12pm. I make them to order, each one slightly different, which means no two doors on the same street will match.
Dressing a Room for October
October is the month entertaining moves back indoors properly. The garden is putting itself to bed, the evenings are closing early, and the dining table matters again. An autumn centrepiece is different from a summer one: lower, fuller, sitting in the room rather than reaching out of it.
For October table arrangements I reach for the chrysanthemum as the structural flower — the spider varieties especially, with their long curling petals in bronze and claret and a depth of colour that earns its place at a candlelit table. Late dahlias where I can still get them, in cafe au lait and rust tones rather than the brights of August. Ornamental berries for warmth and movement, hypericum and rosehip threaded through the stems. And the dried elements running through all of it: a few honesty coins, a seedhead or two, giving the arrangement a persistence that will outlast the week.
A low arrangement built like this, set at the centre of a table for a Sunday lunch or a midweek dinner, changes the feel of a room in a way very little else can for the same effort. For windowsills and mantlepieces I lean further into the all-dried: a gathered bunch of honesty and small pampas in a ceramic jar, or a low bowl of strawflowers in autumn tones. These are not afterthoughts. They are the texture of the room.
What's Still Fresh From Your Harrow Florist This October
For all that October brings the dried world into its own, the fresh stems are still very much here and some of them are at their absolute best.
Chrysanthemums are the unsung flower of autumn, and every October I wish more people would let me talk them into a proper arrangement. Not the single-headed supermarket spray, but the garden-grown spider and reflexed varieties in the colours the season actually produces. They last ten days to a fortnight in water and hold their colour beautifully throughout.
Late dahlias are winding down this month as the field varieties slow and the frosts become more likely, but there are usually a few more good weeks before they go. The late-season blooms tend to be smaller-headed and more refined than August's great dinner-plates, and they sit beautifully in an October arrangement, their colours a little subdued and all the more honest for it.
Ornamental berries are everywhere now: rosehips, hypericum in cream and coral and deep burgundy, the first viburnum turning. A few stems of rosehip in a bunch give it a wildness and a warmth no flower can quite replicate.
If you need flower delivery across Harrow this October — a birthday bouquet, something for the house, or an arrangement to mark the changing season — you can see what came in fresh this week at the shop and order before 12pm for same-day delivery across the HA postcodes and the surrounding West London area.
By the end of October the dahlias are gone for the year and the bench is given over to chrysanthemums, dried stems, and the first whisper of winter evergreens. There is no grief in it. An October at the flower bench in Harrow is one of the quiet pleasures: the whole season distilled into rust and amber and the dry, papery smell of seedheads warming in the workroom. Stay for it. It does not come back until next year.