The trend started small. Small fake plastic flowers in waterless jars on cafe tables. Then it went on to include plastic potted plants, ferns, palm trees, ivy, trees, grass and fake greenery in general. It’s approaching Christmas and I can guarantee you that most of the seasonal-themed holly and mistletoe you see in public places did not come from any verdant and living space. It’s far from Wicklow they were reared. They come from factories in Asia, very probably China.
I cannot abide the ever-increasing presence of plastic foliage in our public spaces. I mean, why bother? Is there anything more depressing than looking at lifeless plastic botanicals while you’re contemplating what to eat or drink? Real flowers are expensive, wildflowers take time to gather in the summer. I know that. I didn’t just fall out of an (actual) coconut tree, and neither did the recent unsuccessful candidate for the US presidency.
But I’d prefer a bare table than an aberration of stiff plastic flowers, or some plastic cactus, doomed never to die. The irony is that plastic flowers are the total opposite of what they represent. Real flowers are beautiful and often scented, compositions of nature that live a bright ephemeral life, and then die. It’s part of the fleeting beauty of flowers. Their plastic doppelgängers never die. Their existence on our cafe and restaurant tables is a continuous grim reminder of the omnipresence of plastic in all our lives. Let us not forget, we now live in a world where microplastics have been found in the fish we eat.
[ Over 70% of deep-sea fish have ingested plastic, study findsOpens in new window ]
The trend started small, but it’s now most definitely large-scale, both in spread and size. People have gone mad lately incorporating fake foliage into their shops and restaurants. Why so many of fake arches of flowers over entrances, as if shoppers were attending some pastoral wedding in a rural church, where the flower arches are actually real? Is it because we live in a damp country where bright and brilliant foliage does not routinely drape itself picturesquely around door and window frames? Is there some subversive campaign to make Ireland look more like the hotter regions of Europe?
I don’t know. Presumably the people who install these arches must think they have some pleasing aesthetic, otherwise why do it? The hard truth is the arches are a load of horrible plastic tat that will progressively fade, and get ever more filthy from passing traffic as the sorry weeks and months pass by. What happens to them then? Even the youngest child of your acquaintance can tell you this plastic tat will go to landfill, where it will not break down in our lifetime.
A while back, I took a vegetarian friend to Glas, a vegetarian and vegan restaurant in Dublin’s Chatham Street. She was delighted at the prospect of potentially being able to eat everything on the menu, which was creative and delicious. We both enjoyed the excellent food.
However, at some point I got distracted by the amount of plastic foliage in the restaurant. There were plants and trees absolutely everywhere, even in the toilets. I was struck by the contradiction of the restaurant’s ethos, which they state on their website – “we believe in using seasonal vegetables and local produce to create sustainably sourced gourmet food” – and the presence of all this plastic. What is sustainable or sustainably sourced, about one of the world’s greatest scourges, plastic?
Later, I emailed Glas and asked why they used plastic plants and foliage in their vegetarian and vegan restaurant.
Owner Paul Rooney responded: “When we opened Glas in November 2019 we wanted to include plants in our design of the restaurant. We spent €3,500 on plants. They died. I thought I was doing something wrong and not looking after them properly, so I did some more research. We bought some more, spent more money and followed the care instructions to the letter. They also died. There simply is not enough light in the room for the plants to survive.
“We use plastic plants now because the colour and look of them is pleasing to the eye and part of the overall look of the restaurant. They create a nice atmosphere/ambience, whatever you prefer to call it. Most people like the look. Where possible we use fresh flowers that we buy on Grafton Street every week, but they fade fast because of the temperature of the room.
“If I had a different restaurant, serving different food, with a different clientele I might not use plants at all. But for Glas the general feedback is that it works.”
The question of aesthetics is personal. Taste is subjective. One person’s view of what makes a “nice atmosphere/ambience” is not the same as another person’s. Neither my friend nor I liked the look of Glas’s plastic foliage. We loathed it.
It was interesting to read in Glas’s response to my questions that the real plants they had installed had failed to thrive. But why, I wondered, was the decision then made to replace them with plastic ones? What’s wrong with no plants at all if real ones keep dying in a particular space, whether for lack of light or any other reason? Is it that as consumers we become so used to being visually overstimulated that restaurant proprietors think we need to have stuff to look at all the time?
The space now occupied by Floritz on St Stephen’s Green is one that holds particularly happy memories for me: I once spent an entire afternoon of celebrations at the former Cliff Townhouse diningroom. There had been a career highlight to mark, and myself and the friend I went there with imbibed champagne all afternoon, and ate oysters and seafood pasta, as both our phones throbbed with notifications. We refer to it as our “Day of Days”.
[ Scourge of plastic production now part of a gigantic and unstoppable experimentOpens in new window ]
When the space reopened in recent months under new management, the diningroom was renamed Floritz. I went along with the friend with whom I had had that former Day of Days in that very same space a few years previously. The food – baos, sushi, yakitori – was excellent. There are striking wallpaper panels on the walls, which are talking points, along with clever lighting and lots of mirrors. There was also a depressing amount of plastic foliage, mostly of the fake tropical variety.
Why? I asked my friend, yet again distracted from the food, as I looked around, feeling suffocated by yet more of the world’s unnecessary plastic. The room already made enough of a statement with its decor. Understated it is not. So why add all this plastic to it, representing pretend foliage?
It made me a bit sad and a bit mad and also a bit depressed, which is not the vibe you want when out with a close friend to have a great night together.
I emailed Floritz to ask why they used plastic foliage in the restaurant.
A spokesperson replied:
“The plants used as part of the decor at Floritz are just another tool in the designer’s box of tricks to add to the whole theatre of the restaurant experience. The designers created a deliberately dramatic and theatrical world as a setting for the restaurant’s bold and exotic food.
“The planting is used as a decorative element, in the same way the designers used the patterned wallpaper and multiple mirrors – to create an atmosphere and sense of drama.”
[ Floritz review: A glitzy but perplexing new restaurant with an overwhelming menuOpens in new window ]
So in this restaurant, the plastic is a deliberate design choice.
The restaurant industry seems to be particularly affected by trends when it comes to design – industrial-style bare bulbs and stark wooden tables were everywhere for a time. Now it’s fake foliage, stealthily creeping into these interiors like some kind of 21st-century poison ivy.
The fact is, customers pay attention to a lot more elements when visiting a restaurant than what’s on the menu, or how much everything costs. They notice things. It’s not always only about the food. I love a good atmosphere in a restaurant; that priceless mercurial quality that makes me want to go back again and again. It doesn’t include being surrounded by plastic versions of nature.
While writing this, I went into a reverie, wondering if restaurants might ever advertise the fact they use plastic botanicals on their websites, in the same way they list their sample menus and show a gallery of images, because then I would avoid those restaurants and not feel depressingly helpless about the state of the planet on my treasured nights out.
What restaurant proprietors think plastic flowers, plants and foliage can positively add to any of their interiors is genuinely a mystery to me. Surely I cannot be the only customer to find this trend so depressing and pointless?