WHO WE ARE
Rust & Flourish is an event and design studio based in Oakland, California. A woman-owned business and a team of artists, we are lovers of art, texture, color, and plants. We celebrate ingenuity and focus on nourishing the creativity of our clients. We are advocates of the slow-flower movement, striving to use locally sourced, seasonal, and foraged materials. Per our mission statement, we are proud members of the Floret Flowers' Farmer-Florist Collective, supporting our local growers and using our own Oakland grown flora in our products.
Ricci's love of flowers started at a very early age, when she would collage with her mother's garden and Martha Stewart magazines. Her BFA background in Art History and Photography serves as a powerful link to her creations. Ever-evolving, Ricci's aesthetic and inspiration is derived from English antique and vintage, the old masters, Edgar Allan Poe, the photograph, and of course, seasonal blooms. When she isn't designing, Ricci can be found snacking around with her cat, Binx.
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
My relationship to flowers is rooted from personal and intimate experiences, something I strive to give to our clients. To the Rust & Flourish team, your experience is not just about the final product. Oftentimes we work with our clients for the better half of a year leading up to their event - that’s a lot of intimate time spent together! In this year, it’s important to us to craft not only your vision, but provide an exceptional experience along the way.
After a tremulous year in 2015, we came up with the concept of our floral studio - our name is derived from the Warsan Shire poem titled “Residue”. Rust & Flourish symbolizes rebirth and growth from rust, from ash, and from dirt - we value and welcome vulnerability, intimacy, and above all, love.
RESIDUE BY WARSAN SHIRE
I give myself five days to forget you.
On the first day I rust.
On the second I wilt.
On the third day I sit with friends but I think about your tongue.
I clean my room on the fourth day. I clean my body on the fourth day.
I try to replace your scent on the fourth day.
The fifth day, I adorn myself like the mouth of an inmate.
A wedding singer dressed in borrowed gold.
The midas of cheap metal.
Tinsel in the middle of summer.
Crevice glitter, two days after the party.
I glow the way unwanted things do,
a neon sign that reads:
Come, I still taste like someone else’s mouth.