So here’s a sad, shameful story that I think I never told you (due to the sad and shameful nature of it). It’s about that ficus tree, the beloved, magazine-friendly ficus tree. I wanted that tree so badly for the Glendale living room for reasons you can see – it was INCREDIBLE and the room really benefited from its beautiful sculptural shape. But I was an irresponsible plant lover, careless and reckless, and ultimately almost killed her dead. But not before it tortured me for years (as it should – it was a very toxic relationship). Now that I think of it, it was a terrible relationship, but as the person in power, I take full responsibility for this one. So here’s what happened…
In 2014, I bought the tree from Mickey Hargitay Plants in LA – a pretty famous exotic indoor plant store. I honestly don’t remember how much it was – but $1,200 is coming to mind (it could have been more, unfortunately). I’m sure I also had to pay for delivery and the pot, so I’m probably now in at least $1600. The details are all murky because it was so long ago, or perhaps because I repressed it all. All I know is that we were scheduled to shoot the house for a magazine, and I felt that I NEEDED that plant to bring so much life, color, and visual interest to the room. It should also be said that I loved it, but if I didn’t have to publicly show-and-tell my life to an audience, I likely wouldn’t have spent that then (we didn’t have that kind of extra budget at the time). I brought it home and it was instantly incredible. Until…
About a year in (or so, no idea), it started losing some leaves and looking sad. This is likely due to my neglect, but could also have been because this plant didn’t want to be inside, or perhaps was too warm in the summer (our living room got so hot in the summer due to huge west-facing windows and no insulation). Regardless, it was sad and I didn’t know what to do. I googled, called plant people, and even had someone come and look at it when they pointed out to me that it had aphids.
Aphids definitely sounded gross to me, and I still don’t fully grasp what they are, but the symptom was tiny black things on the leaves. I’m pretty sure we tried to treat it with something, and then of course I learned how to properly water it on the cadence that it wanted (which sadly I don’t remember now). But then it got worse…
SAP SO MUCH SAP…
What you can’t see is the sap that was dropping from all of the sick leaves, all over the furniture and floor. The sap ruined everything underneath it (which is why I didn’t have that rug anymore). Charlie couldn’t crawl around there, and when Elliot was born, we had to avoid it. We would clean it and clean it and scrub, but we couldn’t keep up with it. It just became the corner that no one could go near, and I had to steer guests to sit elsewhere. I’m pretty sure we had to refinish the floors before we sold (or maybe not, maybe we just almost did).
I felt so dumb and stupid. It was all my fault, but I didn’t know how to fix it (I even tried to be really kind to it), but I started really resenting it (pretty sure this is a toxic relationship analogy). I wanted it better or gone, but being faced with my own shame/mistake/splurge all day made me so mad at myself and it.
Here you can see it looking sad (and this was before it lost even more leaves). By the end, when we had to move, I believe I actually paid someone to take it away – no one wanted it even for free. That was until I asked Tessa Neustadt (my friend and photographer at the time) if she would take it (if she didn’t have to move it herself), and I believe she planted it in her yard. I have no idea how it’s doing, but I’m going to tell myself that it’s thriving now and so happy to be away from me and in the earth.
So What Did I Learn?
I didn’t deserve to just buy something willy-nilly without understanding how to care for it. This kept me from buying and keeping houseplants for years (I would buy for shoots, then give them immediately away to my team).
I can be really hasty when it comes to emotional design elements, not really thinking through the consequences (this is not the last time I’ll also make this mistake.
Exotic plants are a huge investment and you should find out before taking them home what type of environment they need. I can’t speak to what this needed, I don’t remember, but I really don’t think I did my due diligence thinking it would “be fine!” which is typical for me and one of my worst personality traits.
Why Am I Telling You This?
I stumbled on these old photos recently and was blown over with both nostalgia for that house (and the tree, and the toddler kissing my tummy) and shame of what I had done. I figured I’d share to remind you that things aren’t always what they look like in pretty houses on the internet, and so many mistakes are being made behind the scenes. Hoping to not get cancelled because of this, but perhaps the statute of limitations will protect me since it’s been 11 years 🙂
Opening Image Credit: Photo by Tessa Neustadt
This made me laugh. When we moved to the tropics where all the houseplants I killed in Seattle grow naturally , I saw the annual leaf drop of poinsettias, Benjaminas, and = everything I tossed because they lost their leaves. Had I known that they do that on a cycle I could have enjoyed them more. And longer. We shoved a benjamina into the garden from where it was languishing on the porch – and it grew so fast that we pruned it 2x a year and finally chopped it down. They grow to 80a100 feet tall in indonesia … Don’t beat yourself up for not being a tropical habitat. I love your posts – and this one brought back so many memories of trying to save what didn’t want saving.
If Tessa planted it in her garden, she likely regrets the plant even more than you.
Ficuses are notorious for growing absolutely enormous and having hugely invasive and prolifically growing roots that uproot houses, walls, roads, footpaths etc. You need a LOT of room for a ficus…
Thanks for sharing this story. Not homewares but I once bought a pair of Manola Blahniks I couldn’t really afford (obviously way too influenced by SATC) and I hadn’t had them long when the ultra fine heel of one got stuck in a crack in the footpath and snapped. I got the heel replaced but it wasn’t well repaired. I still couldn’t bear to throw them out or give away so they sat there taunting me for years…
This may be your most relatable post of all time, I love it! Let’s all name our shame and get it out of our system – life’s too short to cry over dead plants!!
So from now on, when I see one in photos or any other big tree, I’ll think it’s probably a disaster to live with. It’s good to know, thank you.
Honestly, looking at the leaves this looks like the magnolia in my yard, def an outdoor tree. Ficus can live indoors. But maybe it’s a ficus I’m unaware of! Lol so relatable plant issues! And how crazy expensive they can be!
Emily! That tree was probably one of your smartest investments ever. The internet is full of gorgeous rooms, but that tree (in that living room, with Tessa’s talent) gave you many photos that set you apart.
My background is in economics and I often fall into short-sighted stinginess. You, on the other hand, are someone who instinctively invests in the right things, which is a huge factor in your success. You (rightly) pay for all kinds of high-cost investments like talented photographers; or flights for your team when they have to travel for work, just to randomly name a couple.
It sounds like your only mistake was that you let shame creep in and delay the eventual wise choice of moving the tree out when it was no longer good for your home/family.
Vera, I LOVE THIS TAKE. Thank you.
Oh my, hard to imagine you have gone this long without understanding that the I-klled-a-ficus-tree club is HUGE. I almost think it is a right of passage for your 20s. Those of you who have never experienced this, know that you are special and have many people who would like to touch your sleeve and get the magic. Emily, if you are feeling the shame because of the cost then know that nearly everyone has a story like this. I once bought an entire house and put $30k into remodeling the kitchen knowing that I had a one year timeline before I would be force to sell and move due to a job. Was this is super savvy flip in a hot market? no, it was not. it was in a small, economically depressed city, on a narrow lot immediately next to a dry cleaners with no garage (a rarity in this area). It took me three years to get out from under it. So, yeah, all decisions are emotional and hindsight is useful but also a bit of a scold. And that tree sure does look gorgeous in the pictures. It’s also a reminder that pictures are the book… Read more »
I just want to say…be kind to yourself. I’ve noticed a few posts recently you’re beating yourself up a bit. Birdies room and this post. We all make design mistakes! Some more costly than others. I’ve killed plants. It happens. It’s not like you set out to do it. Thanks for being so open with all of us but just remember you’re human. It’s ok. Love this blog and all the inspiration!
Thank you so much for posting this! I’ve been hanging onto the worlds saddest piece of bamboo for YEARS becuase who kills bamboo?!? I’m now going to toss and buy something new and be happy. Toxic plant relationship freedom day!
ok someone once mentioned to me a bamboo alternative that is two words – maybe the first starts with M? and described it as much more manageable than bamboo. does this ring a bell for anyone? google truly not helping me, but also… i might have misheard the name – ha.
You star!! I’m wondering if it could be wax myrtle – owe you!!!
I love your design “mistakes” and behind the scenes insights. I have bought so much off of recommendations from this blog and “fessing up” makes me feel that you and your team are even more honest than I originally thought. Imagine all the folks who bought ficus trees because of how fabulous it looked in your living room! No shame, Sister, All love. (and seriously, design “mistakes” are some of my favorite content)
For what it’s worth, it’s the aphids that make the sap (“honeydew”) and aphids are SUPER hard to get rid of even outside where you can spray whatever you want as often as you need. They are nasty and ime near impossible to eliminate except via predatory insects, and presumably you didn’t want your LA house overrun by ladybugs either. As others have said, ficuses are notoriously finicky and pests _love_ them; if it hadn’t been aphids it likely would have been spider mites. I currently have two Audreys that I’ve managed to keep alive but it’s been touch and go and I killed many prior (frequently because ficus pests are so persistent, especially on larger plants that are tough to treat). Honestly, although I understand the guilt, I’ve had to adopt a mindset of like…relative harm. Is the houseplant industry wasteful and problematic? Yes. At the same time, if you buy a houseplant you are almost always paying less than you would for a bouquet of flowers that lasts a few weeks at most, so if you keep the houseplant alive for a year you’re doing just fine. And you’re bringing oxygen and life into your home while it’s… Read more »
I love the honesty and behind-the-scenes glimpses! I’d love this to be a regular series (either with you and the team, or with guest bloggers if you guys don’t have enough mistakes). Plant mishaps, incorrectly authenticated hutches, everything would be relatable and interesting!
Well, this is timely. Witness my variegated ficus. It has looked like this for precisely two years and taunts me every day with its consumptive demeanour. I’ve tried everything and yet it never looks like anything except ‘almost dead’ (which is why it has been relegated to a spot behind a door – so I don’t have to stare at its accusing leaves constantly). I think the time has finally come to end this relationship.
As another Erin, just want to say I appreciate a good Victorian TB reference.
THIS made me laugh! Two years! You are as persistent as the plant with its taunting. I have a toxin c relationship with a treadmill. It’s going on the curb tomorrow!
I feel your shame!
I have done the same; namely, I have made emotionally-driven, design purchases, that I lived to regret
I appreciate your posting about this!
Ah yes . . . the finicky, sickly, sticky ficus tree. I knew thee well . . .
Emily,
You looked so pretty in your photos with your exotic plant. Thank you for writing about this. I have the same kind of guilt about an oak I drowned with watering and the run off from our neighbors . I feel bad the lawn place planted it where they did and I am sad I didn’t plant another one. It could be shading the hot back yard right now! A lady at our local plant store told me to let it go…. So I did. The lady was older than me and it was so nice she gave me permission to forgive myself. You can, too. I have to wonder if anyone could really maintain your tree with kids’ ,work and a husband.
P.S. Was Mickey Hargitay tall and handsome? He looks so handsome with his little sister, Mariska in photos I have seen.
We had a ficus tree when I lived back East. Every summer, we had to move it from the living room onto a side porch, so that it got Sun, but not too much, and it had a steady temperature. In the fall, it would drop its leaves, but we would always move it into the LR because it looked so nice there, and it doubled as our Christmas ficus. (My kids still laugh at me for that one.) We managed to keep it alive, but it was still a lot fussier than people make it out to be. And there were several years where I would have been happy to get rid of it.
Since we’re doing sad plant stories, I thought I’d add mine for collective catharsis: I just killed the chestnut tree I planted when I was four years old. See when I was four me and my parents went to visit a fancy estate with a long drive lined with chestnut trees that I thought was beauuutiful plus chestnuts have always been some of my favourite trees!. I picked up an already germinated chestnut and me and my dad, who was always up for a project, rigged up a construction to let it sprout in a vase in our kitchen. When it got big enough I planted it in a pot and put it outside and I promised myself that when I was grownup I would plant this chestnut tree in the yard of the big beautiful farmhouse I would surely live in one day. And since then this chestnut has grown and grown in her pot on my mum’s terrace. I’m sure living in a pot hasn’t been a fun time for her but she has persevered. So has my mum who has had chief care of my little tree for around 25 years now, always having to organise someone… Read more »
Don’t feel sad for too long. Take it as a sign to get a fresh dream! Not all our dreams come true and it’s not necessarily the tragedy we think it must be when we’re told to ‘chase our dreams’! That doesn’t mean dreaming isn’t worthwhile but when we open both our arms to life’s opportunities sometimes we’re going to drop the things we’re already carrying. Good luck with your next dream and I hope the pursuit of it brings you happiness, regardless of the outcome! And I especially hope you find a permanent home because everyone deserves the security of a secure roof over their head and the chance to put down roots and form a community. That should be a goal not a dream, and it’s a sad indictment of our world that increasingly it is a dream for many.
Let’s be honest, we are all fiddle leaf murderers.
We have a huge planter right in our entryway that we LOVE except it barely gets any light and I’m terrible at caring for plants. We call it our “plant hospice.” I’ve been researched fake plants (oh, blog post idea??) to use because I can’t bear to buy anymore plants I’m going to kill.
It sounds to me like you are being way too hard on yourself. That plant was gorgeous for the photos and I am sure it added a lot to your home for a long time. The only mistake is that when it got the aphids, you should have just moved it outside and waited for it to get well or been ready to part with it. You got years of beauty out of it and things just don’t last forever. Replace it with a fake or a cheaper easier one in the same beautiful planter and move on. Aphids are so hard to get rid of.
I appreciate this candid, thoughtful and vulnerable post so much, Emily. As someone who looks up to you for many reasons, and who is often paralyzed with self-anger at costly design mistakes in my home, reading about yours reminds me that we all need forgiveness and gentleness. To be alive is to have constant opportunities to learn.
That’s so typical of fiddle leaf figs! Been there. They are divas. Always get aphids inside eventually. It’s not you!