I went to Chelsea this year, yes. It was lovely weather. I was there with a friend. We couldn't be bothered to queue more than once, so missed a few things (like the giant bird's nest) but the pleasures were many and marvellous, ranging from the mundane (very nice soap and hand cream in the ladies) to the magical (we sat down for a cup of tea under a yew tree full of tiny fledgling goldcrests and bluetits) to the miraculous (one of the gardens included cast concrete supports shaped like motorway bridge columns). I also ended up shopping, to my surprise; a couple of classy airplants, three insane chrysanthemums, some fuchsias and a couple of irises for out front. Afterwards, on the way back, my phone kept giving me lists of what was in at Chelsea. So, we made up our own list, and behold, the dirty dozen quick fixes from Chelsea:
So, this is the hardstanding/lawn from the Savills and David Harper garden, which also included an eyecatching kinetic sculpture (there were lots of those on display, too - but like the lights etc., such showboatery is more gimmick than genuine trend) - but similar sharp repeated heavy paralell lines were all over the place, from the quasi-natural rock formations of the Facebook garden (yes really) to the Bridgewater pergola. The message is clear: get striped or go home.
2. Citrus sorbet and Tutti Frutti colourways are this year's flavour
3. First story planting is on the up
5. Red metal works however you decide to do it
7. You need a gin hole
12. But most of all, you need a waterwall
1. Parallel lines rule
So, this is the hardstanding/lawn from the Savills and David Harper garden, which also included an eyecatching kinetic sculpture (there were lots of those on display, too - but like the lights etc., such showboatery is more gimmick than genuine trend) - but similar sharp repeated heavy paralell lines were all over the place, from the quasi-natural rock formations of the Facebook garden (yes really) to the Bridgewater pergola. The message is clear: get striped or go home.
Acid greens, lemon yellows, and sharp little pings of red and orange against curds of foamy white flowers. Here's your inspiration, and to help you on your way, two words: variegated foliage.
3. First story planting is on the up
Chelsea gardens need to be accessible, so if you're putting in a proper first storey, you're also putting in a lift, and Greenfingers did just that. But even those not literally elevating things with bridges, platforms and treehouses were sending the foliage up the green walls to create green shelves, gutters and roofs. My personal best of show, the Silent Pool Gin Garden (more on that later) had an elevated grey water drainage system snaking around the garden filled with water plants.
4. Fuchsias are fucking brilliant, and do not argue
There were two Fuchsia stands. TWO. One was shaped like a carousel, as if some Gotham villain really into municipal planting had got all flourishy on the show. The other was selling tiny fuchsias with names like fantasy trilogies in threepacks. The one I bought included Fuchsia Grayrigg, which certainly sounds like the flower most likely to be brutally murdered by Cersei Lannister this year.
5. Red metal works however you decide to do it
I've already mentioned the colossal industrial coated red metal pergola of the mighty RHS Bridgewater. But there were also an extensive exploration of the beauty of rust. And directly related to this...
6. Industrialism is working it hard this year
Industrialism decayed, preserved, historical and contemporary was popping up all over this year. Less in the bankers' gardens of course, but anything marked People's Choice or Heritage was right in there creating Mike Nelsonish sculpturals of ravishingly ravished metal or shoving erigeron into the walls of our transport heritage. Powdered steel, undressed concrete and burned wood were the construction materials of choice. Not just touched by the wheels of industry - some wheels actually included.
7. You need a gin hole
As well as going up, the designers were digging down this year. Lots of gardens had activated a medium-small sunken garden, usually artfully decorated with a bottle of something and a couple of glasses (hence gin hole). Part denial bunker, part polyplayspace, all frilly with flowers round the edges, this is the perfect garden for digging in and forgetting the world in a haze of jasmine and gin. Props to Monterossi for including in their many sunken spaces a great one for the kids to amuse themselves in while the grown-ups are getting hammered
8. Indoors is outdoors now
There were people selling aspidistras and bougainvilleas as outdoor plants. The first border spider plant was runner-up for flower of the year. And there were flowering cacti planted in the ground in the Facebook garden. They were covered in bees. "Put these outside for the summer" the man selling me airplants said, like a jolly-faced horseman of the coming environmental apocalypse.
9. A little touch of death sharpens the bouquet
While most people had opted for the usual perfect bloom primping, several people at once had hit on the idea of including some (decorative) dead flowers in the mix, and this was getting the punters excited, especially in combination with sticky, decadent dark flowers like Orchids and Sweet Williams.
10. Keep it nibbleable with beautiful edibles
The elevated kohlrahbis, purple-lit microgreen shelves and cork furniture of the IKEA garden was only the tip of the iceberg. Lots of the garden were so designed with the idea of breaking bits of them off and eating them that I saw people at it. Mmm, is that Indonesian mint? Variegated lemon balm? Can you eat it? Yes you can.
11. Science fictional flourishes are the perfect finishing touches
From IKEA's mushroom-inspired sculpture, to Manchester's magnificently bold attempt to recreate the earlier scenes of Annihilation, to Facebooks assimilating decking tentacles, little interpolations of the sci-fi future were crawling out all over. There was even a strong hint of far-future dystopianism in M&G's burnt black wooden walls.
12. But most of all, you need a waterwall
I didn't count them, but I reckon about six to ten. They came in different varieties; drip curtains, oozing green walls, stone sheets shining with water, a giant polycarbonate resin replica of a gin logo running with purifying water (incidentally, I'm assuming that the colossal logo is the reason this garden barely featured on the TV coverage as it was definitely the best garden). Everywhere there was a waterwall, people relaxed, breathed deeper, tendrils uncurling, hair relaxing. They are the perfect 21st century gardening accessory for our warming world, and will feature in a future urban greenwave, and my own garden, if I can figure out how.
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