How to make a modern, wild spring wreath

A clematis vine and a bed of moss is the starting point for an ever-evolving wreath bedecked with natural materials - Geoff Pugh for the Telegraph
A clematis vine and a bed of moss is the starting point for an ever-evolving wreath bedecked with natural materials - Geoff Pugh for the Telegraph

“Flowers can have a voice, if used in the right way.” I’m binding wire tightly around a clematis vine covered in flyaway clumps of of Spanish moss and iridescent, paper-thin discs of honesty (Lunaria annua) as florists Katie Smyth and Terri Chandler pass me generous handfuls of lavender leaves to be woven in tightly with wire. “It’s always interesting to see how different personalities come through in the finished arrangement,” Chandler continues. 

We’re both kind of wild people - neither of us are neat or rational

Smyth and Chandler are the entrepreneurial founders of floristry business WORM London, famed for a novel gifting service in which they select not only a bunch of beautiful seasonal flowers but also a book, perhaps new, perhaps old, but always thoughtfully hand-chosen according to miscellaneous details provided about the recipient.

Now, they’ve published a book of their own. Wreaths: Fresh, foraged & dried floral arrangements (Quadrille, £14.99) is a beauty of a guide to creating considered and yet utterly wild seasonal arrangements.

The pair are fascinated by meaning and storytelling, and often refer to Victorian floriography (“the language of flowers”) in their work - and yet there’s nothing primly Victorian or buttoned-up about their untamed, free and chaotic-in-a-good-way styling. As the book shows, there’s nothing to say a wreath is just for Christmas - or even that it has to be circular, or abide by any rules at all.

May wreath with WORM London - Credit: Geoff Pugh
Smyth and Chandler like to include an array of wild textures in their work Credit: Geoff Pugh

Seasonal chandeliers, of-the-moment geometric shapes and “clouds” of fresh foliage are possible (at least between March and December, in Britain - the pair admit that January and February make for a rather bare season, in which case they recommend using dried materials).

But spring is nigh, so I’m at the Committee of Taste, their Stoke Newington studio - which doubles up as a friend's antique furniture shop - to make a May wreath.

At a glance | How to make a basic wreath shape
At a glance | How to make a basic wreath shape

Our theme leads Smyth and Chandler to recall the May altars of their Catholic upbringing in Ireland. “It’s a real Irish thing to have a May altar. There’d always be lots of blue to symbolise the Blessed Virgin Mary, and there’d also always be daffodils and snowdrops. You’d never buy anything, it was always with things that came from the land. Paperwhites, hellebores, and even dandelions.”

It was perhaps this, their first experience of floristry, which instilled their preference for foraged, seasonal blooms and grasses that reflect the surrounding landscape and the time of year.

Heather from the heath, cow parsley, dill and carrot flowers are favoured over Asian orchids and roses from Ecuador

“It’s nice when something’s a bit wonky,” says Smyth. “It evokes something - it might be happy, funny or sad-looking.” Both prefer imperfect-looking materials over the straight, even stems of commercial flowers, and prefer to sidestep the carbon footprint of imported flowers. Heather from the heath, cow parsley, dill and wild carrot flowers are favoured over Asian orchids and roses from Ecuador.

For Chandler and Smyth, nothing says spring in Britain like the humble daffodil. "It’s so lovely being a florist in spring, and seeing little buds coming up everywhere," enthuses Chandler. "Everything is brighter, fresher, coming alive again. The smell of a daffodil - we love it so much, and they’re just sprinkled all over the country. In a lot of countries they don’t have flowers growing everywhere, because of the dryness of the land. We complain about all this rain but what’s growing everywhere in spring here is crazy, and we’re so lucky to have it.”

That said, the traditional May wreath can trace its roots to Greece. As well as celebrating the emergence of spring, herbs and bulbs of garlic were strung up in hope of a good crop and to ward off evil spirits - the equivalent of a horse shoe in Ireland, where the pair grew up. 

Wreaths - Credit: Geoff Pugh
Katie Smyth and Terri Chandler of WORM London are inspired by the rugged, wild and "messy" landscape of Ireland Credit: Geoff Pugh

“Ireland is a small island, so everything grows near the sea. It’s all wild, rugged and messy, with lots of gorse and sea grasses. That landscape really inspires us. We love it and you can see it in the way we arrange.

"Nothing’s perfect, and everything has a strange stem because the wind has blown it into that shape. That’s what we love and we struggle in the winter when we have to order in forced flowers with the perfect amount of leaves. It just doesn’t feel like nature to us,” admits Chandler

“We’re both kind of wild people,” she laughs heartily. “Neither of us are neat or rational. If we had to make a really perfect posy of roses, we would struggle.”

On their watch, textures, feelings and spontaneity take priority over formal colour schemes. “That’s something that was lost for a long time. Flowers became more commercial, and it would always just be pink and white roses at a wedding, with less focus on meaning.”

Wreaths - Credit: Kristin Perers for WORM London and Geoff Pugh for The Telegraph
The book is full of accessible projects for the novice florist Credit: Kristin Perers for WORM London and Geoff Pugh for The Telegraph

“Now, people are starting to care about the world again, enjoying making things that feel good for the world and that make them feel good. You can see it in the food industry as well as in floristry. They don’t want plastic-wrapped vegetables, and they don’t want throwaway flowers presented in cellophane. A wreath is an ever-evolving project composed of wire and natural ingredients, and that's it. You can even make it with string if you prefer. It’s not disposable, it can be reused - and if the materials are grown locally and dried locally, there’s virtually no footprint. It can also be a reminder of a really lovely day in the country with someone, or of a walk to the park with the kids.”

While the pair cite the New Covent Garden Flower Market as their “favourite place in the world”, you don’t have to look far - or spend any money - to recreate the magic at home. “It can be accessible and inexpensive,” Smyth assures me. “Foraging doesn't have to mean that you’re cutting stuff down. I was walking along the canal a few weeks ago and there was all this amazing dried fern. I think if you make more of an effort to just look at things, you’ll start to notice them.

How to make a wreath - Credit: Kristin Perers for WORM London
The language of flowers: your personality may shine through in your wreath Credit: Kristin Perers for WORM London

"We walk around and say things like, 'look at this beautiful branch!'. And then we take it home and give it a new context and a new environment, and it looks incredible. Even buttercups can look amazing in tiny stem jars.

“We were doing an event recently and we put all the flowers in the back of the taxi. The driver asked us why we were putting weeds in the back - but when we set it up, they looked so beautiful and delicate.” Weeds or not, as I step back to admire my wondrous wreath, I can’t help but think they’re right.

Wreaths: Fresh, foraged & dried floral arrangements by Terri Chandler and Katie Smyth is published by Quadrille (£14.99). To order your copy for £12.99 plus p&p call 0844 871 1514 or visit books.telegraph.co.uk