France Ceramic Flower Teal Ranunculus

In a world of wall art decor and Pinterest boards titled "Live, Laugh, Love," I found myself inexplicably drawn to a ceramic flower that looked like it had been designed by someone who'd once had a fever dream about a ranunculus. The thing was teal – not the elegant teal of a peacock, but the aggressive teal of a 1980s bathroom fixture that refused to die. My mother, upon seeing it mounted to my wall, asked if I was "going through something." She's always assumed any deviation from traditional decor means I'm having a crisis. The truth is, I'd become oddly fascinated by imitation flowers, particularly ones that make no attempt at realism. This one came with a keyhole mount, which sounds more sophisticated than "a hole in the back that you hang on a nail and pray doesn't fall." The wall-mounted piece has become something of a conversation starter, though not in the way interior decorating magazines might suggest. Guests either pretend not to notice it or stare too long, like you might at someone wearing their shirt inside out. My father simply asked if I'd gotten it on sale. "No," I replied, "I paid full price to be judged by a ceramic bloom."