Orchids entered the realm of fast fashion — quickly produced and quickly discarded.
Between now and the new year, you’ll see plenty of them.
They will be front and centre at Costco, your local grocery store, even the gas station may have some on offer. In some ways, they are a substitute for another exotic that shows its face seasonally — the poinsettia. Poinsettias, however, aren’t in the same league as this other contender. Not even close. I’m referring to the orchid, the marquee player at cocktail parties and open houses, foyers and powder rooms. They have become a predictable presence as well as a predictable present. But it wasn’t always so. In fact, it wasn’t so very long ago that you rarely, if ever, even saw an orchid. The ones you did see were single orchids, pinned to the bodice of a gown — floral jewelry — the corsage. Orchids were the botanical equivalent of gemstones. Today, you can buy ‘em at Home Depot.
Do you remember movies where orchids were cinematic shorthand for outrageous wealth and/or a compulsive obsessive disorder? Israel “Ice Pick Willy” Alderman would be revealing his genteel side, delicately misting orchids in his hot house while issuing orders that it was time for Anthony “Big Tuna” Accardo to “swim wid’ the fishes”. Orchids were wildly expensive. And fussy.
So, what changed? How did this much-lauded plant go from exclusive, specialty hot houses to be sold en masse at big box stores? Orchids are either epiphytes, meaning they grow on other plants, or they’re lithophytes, meaning they grow on rock. What they really want is to be left alone — ignored, but left alone in ideal conditions. They may last a long time, but they take their sweet time coming into bloom — hardly an ideal selling feature.
The democratization of the orchid can be traced back to a couple of developments. A plant physiologist at Cornell University discovered that germinating orchids in sugar-laced agar was wildly productive. Other botanists discovered that it was possible to clone orchids from the tip of a growing orchid spike. An American grower, Breckenridge Orchids in North Carolina, stumbled upon the idea of growing and shipping orchids in peat moss. All this was happening just as we were all falling in love with the idea of indoor plants.
These successes meant that orchids soon entered the realm of fast fashion — quickly produced and quickly discarded. It’s odd to consider how a regenerative plant that was once incredibly valuable is now routinely discarded once the blooms fade. Given the challenges the industry is now facing, however, we’re all going to have to rethink our relationship with the beautiful Phalaenopsis and its cousins.
Most of the orchid plants you see are produced in the Netherlands or Taiwan. They’re grown in tanker-sized indoor hothouses and then shipped all over the world. The business model for orchids is based on economies of scale — growing tons of plants on tiny margins. As energy and shipping costs have risen, the metrics around producing cheap orchids have changed. Our love affair with the orchid is proving unsupportable. Your cymbidium, phalaenopsis, or dendrobium is about to return to its former designation as a costly rarity.
Here are a few tips for getting the most bang for your orchid buck: First, take the poor thing out of its little plastic pot. Because they grow on other plants or even just rock, the last thing they want is to be stuffed into a pot — their roots need air. In fact, I’ve seen blooming orchids simply hung from hooks without a container of any description. Re-home your orchid in a handful of bark or sphagnum. Let them have access to water but not too much, too frequently. They will thrive in indirect sunlight. Any temperature that you’re comfortable with will suit them, too. If your orchid still isn’t happy, replace the planting medium. When the last bloom bows out, cut off dead spikes about a half inch above a growth node. And forget about watering an orchid with an ice cube. That’s just crazy talk. They do, however, thrive on a dribble of cool, sugary, milky tea. And doesn’t that sound nice? A plant you can have tea with.
This week’s question for readers:
Question: How green is your thumb? Do you have luck getting your orchids to re-bloom?
Last week’s question for readers:
Question: Does rainfall get you down?
• Not really — I can always just pull out my favourite umbrella. It says, “Merde, il pleut”.
Allison Neumann
• Great Aunt Adah informed me that it was important to use a mauve (lavender) -coloured umbrella in Vancouver. She said it would give my little four-year-old face a wonderful and warm glow when going for a walk on rainy days. What a happy memory.
Bonnie Kyle
• No, rainfall does not get me down. My colourful collection of umbrellas uplifts my mood as I walk my dog or myself in the rainforest I live in. My love of umbrellas started with a church youth group I attended as a teen. I would exchange my current umbrella for an upgrade someone had left after the previous Sunday service. The following week, I would leave the borrowed umbrella, and borrow another one if I fancied it. I have been long forgiven by the rain goddess for my umbrella “borrowing” bad habit.
Lana Gowler
• Rain? What rain? I grew up in Victoria and got so good at predicting rain in the summer that I was the grumpy kid at 8 a.m. on Little League Saturdays because I knew when we were going to get rained out. In fact, I moved away to the Interior in 1982 because I was developing webs between my fingers. Since then, I have lived in Arizona, Idaho and back to Kamloops. I haven’t missed a single drop. Yes, it’s a dry heat.
Jeff Owens
• One of the coolest sights I’ve seen is of a very experienced mountaineer, high up in Central B.C., carrying an open umbrella as his companions trudged after him in the open alpine. It was a wet expedition and his followers were all decked out in the latest expensive wet weather mountain gear. We all looked quite miserable except him, a picture of self-confidence. I could imagine him stepping off a high precipice and floating down, bone dry, for a soft landing with his low-tech gear. So absurd, but logical at the same time.
John Gordon Wiens
• I never mind a rainy day. I have more energy and usually take that day to clean house. The sunshine (love to get out in it) shows all the dirt and dust. So rain is good — clears the air, and everything feels fresh.
Caroline Duncan
• No. In fact, I find rain uplifting. I am a self-described pluviophile and moved to the Pacific Northwest over 40 years ago to fully experience this unique weather system. As singer-songwriter and poet Ferron wrote, “On sunny days, you’d find me walking miles to look for rain.” Have never liked umbrellas though. Prefer large waterproof overcoats and hats so that both hands are free for droplets.
Debra Dolan
• I am writing with regards to the article you recently wrote about umbrellas. My family has been in the umbrella business here in Vancouver since 1932. Rain brings our family so much joy.
Shana Hochfelder, Vancouver Umbrella Inc.