Follow the season
We buy what’s peaking — peonies in June, dahlias in October, branches and berries when the cold sets in. If it isn’t lovely right now, it doesn’t go in the bucket.
Market-ledMarguerite & Fern began as a folding table outside a Brooklyn coffee shop. The belief hasn’t changed: everyday flowers deserve as much care as a wedding bouquet.
The marguerite is the open-faced daisy — generous, a little untidy, impossible not to like. The fern is its opposite: slow, structural, exact. We named the studio after both because the arrangements we love best live somewhere in between — a little wild, a little engineered.
That first season was just a folding table, a bucket of market stems, and the conviction that a Tuesday bouquet shouldn’t look like it came out of a refrigerated case. People kept coming back. The table became a studio on Nevins Street, and the idea stayed exactly the same.
Not a manifesto for a wall — just how we make decisions when no one’s watching the bucket.
We buy what’s peaking — peonies in June, dahlias in October, branches and berries when the cold sets in. If it isn’t lovely right now, it doesn’t go in the bucket.
Market-ledWe lean on regional growers in New York and the Hudson Valley whenever the calendar allows, so stems travel less and last longer in your vase.
Regional growersOne bold gesture beats ten safe ones. We’d rather build a single arrangement you remember than a roomful you forget by dessert.
A point of viewTrimmed stems are composted, vessels are reusable, and we steer you toward chicken wire and pin frogs over single-use floral foam.
Low-waste
Most mornings start at the flower market and end with buckets lining the Nevins Street studio. By the time you see an arrangement, every stem has been cut on an angle, stripped, and given a long, cold drink — the unglamorous work that makes flowers last.
No big leaps — just one season honestly better than the last.
A folding table, a few buckets, and the regulars who learned which days the good ranunculus showed up. The whole business fit in a tote bag.
People stopped buying single bouquets and started asking for the same flowers every Friday. Weekly Blooms was born out of pure habit — theirs and ours.
A city-hall ceremony turned into a referral, which turned into a calendar. We learned to plan, install, and break down a room without losing the wildness.
Suite 4 became home — a working studio where we design, host small workshops, and pack every hand-delivered order across Brooklyn.
A tight crew who would rather build one thing properly than a hundred things fast.
Built the studio from that first folding table. Designs the seasonal menu and every wedding palette — and still answers most of the emails.
Runs installs and timelines. The reason a ceremony goes up clean, peaks at the right moment, and comes down on schedule.
We take on one seasonal apprentice at a time. If you’re obsessed with flowers and unafraid of early markets, say hello.
Introduce yourselfHonest notes from a few of the folks whose tables, weddings, and Fridays we get to fill.
They turned our tiny city-hall ceremony into something we still talk about. Not one stem felt safe.
My Friday delivery is the only standing appointment I never cancel. It changes the whole apartment.
I described a vibe, badly, and they made something better than what I asked for. Every time.
Pop by Wed–Sun, or tell us the room, the date, or just the feeling. We’ll handle the flowers.