Mrs. Dalloway Said She Would Buy the Flowers Herself

I said I would buy the flowers myself (Woolf 1). For the party I must have flowers. But which ones? There are so many lovely ones how can I bring myself to choose? Even at this flower shop amongst the sea of petals I cannot choose! For they each seem to symbolize something, it all depends on what I would like to be the spirit of the party. And also one must keep in mind tastefulness, for tastefulness is key! Oh, heavens, I remember the awful disaster at Lady Lovejoy's party! There were almost too many flowers; it was as if one was drowning in pollen! 'There were flowers: delphiniums, sweet peas, bunches of lilac; and carnations, masses of carnations. There were roses; there were irises' (Woolf 9). I had the piercing urge to cover my nose and mouth with my handkerchief, yet I refrained for manner's sake. When I saw her 'coming to the window with her arms full of sweet peas' I held my tongue (Woolf 11). No! i wanted to tell her. You will drown your guests with Springtime. Yet I held my tongue, for I was not the hostess, and merely made a mental note to not make the same awful mistake at my own party. I will be a graceful hostess, not the “perfect hostess” that Peter so mockingly hurt me with many years ago (Woolf 54). He meant me to feel it.  He would have done anything to hurt me, after seeing me with Dalloway. Oh, the nerve of that man! But not now, not now, my mind has more pleasant things to attend to.

The weather is fair this June morning, ‘soft with the glow of rose petals’ (Woolf 25). Rose petals! I shall buy roses! But yet, are roses too romantic? They carry a certain sensuality about them that I may not wish to instill at the party, it is merely for mingling for heaven’s sakes! Oh, but roses are so beautiful.  Maybe for another party, another time. Or what about the ones like those at Hampton Court? ‘All the little red and yellow flowers were out on the grass like floating lamps,’ those flowers did have such a gaiety and charm about them (Woolf 58).

If only Sally were with me, she would know what to do. ‘Sally’s power was amazing, her gift, her personality. There was her way with flowers, for instance’ (Woolf 28). If only I had such a gift! ‘Sally went out picked hollyhocks, dahlias- all sorts of flowers that had never been seen together – cut their heads off, and made them swim on the top of water in bowls.  The effect was extraordinary…’ (Woolf 28). Oh, if only I had such a gift now!

I know people laugh at my frivolity, but what is life without the little joys? ‘Admirable butlers, tawny chow dogs, halls laid in black and white lozenges with white blinds blowing,’ these are the things that bring contentment and joy to my heart (Woolf 47). It is a woman’s job to keep house and keep herself, so why not do so in the most beautiful way possible? What scorn I would receive if I carried myself any other way! Like Mrs. Kilman! I saw her in a mackintosh the other day, and it took all my dignity to keep from laughing out. ‘First, it was cheap; second, she is over forty; and does not, after all, dress to please. She is, moreover; degradingly poor’ (Woolf 108). I cannot think of anything more humiliating! How I detest that woman. She laps up all of my Elizabeth’s attention, leaving absolutely none for myself, and she dares stand before me and call herself a Christian woman! I myself have no particular ties to religion, but from the purest of observations I know what the Christians value grace and love. Yet this woman embodies neither! ‘Love and religion! How detestable, how detestable they are! The cruelest things in the world…clumsy, hot, domineering, hypocritical, eavesdropping, jealous, infinitely cruel and unscrupulous, dressed in a mackintosh coat…love and religion’ (Woolf 111). There is very little joy in this world, and ‘the odious Kilman will destroy it’ (Woolf 111). My, I am getting carried away; the mere thought of that woman is enough to make my blood boil.

But my Elizabeth, how lovely she is becoming! ‘She was always charming to look at; and lately, in the evening especially, when she was interested, for she never seemed excited, she almost looked beautiful, very stately, very serene. What could she be thinking? Every man fell in love with her, and she was really awfully bored. For it is beginning…the compliments were beginning’ (Woolf 119). She is so quiet, my Elizabeth, never outward, never loud. She never shares her heart with me, though I bet she does so with that Miss Kilman!

But never mind! It is decided; I shall buy lilies. They are elegant and simple and shall be the talk of the party. Never mind if Miss Kilman thinks me frivolous and shallow, for she is poor and unsightly! I shall cast her from my mind and indulge in the gaiety of the party tonight. Yes, lilies will do.