Panic-Buying: Plants

Shining star of the Seventies interior, the houseplant was later thrown into the garbage and out of fashion. Until, that is, our generation came along. For, it seems, the humble houseplant has seen something of a revival in the past few years, thanks majorly to the under 30s.  A 2019 survey by the Royal Horticultural Society (RHS) suggests that around 80% of 16-24 year olds own a houseplant. Snoop around any uni halls in the UK and you’ll find them everywhere. From the entry-level cactus to the boujee, Insta-famous cheeseplant. Who hasn’t got one? Whether it’s the mental health benefits recent studies have promised our plant babies will provide us, or the zero-effort Insta aesthetic they help us achieve, our generation cannot get enough.

Throughout uni, I held back from the craze. I know myself too well and visions of withered leaves crying out desperately from the corners of my room while I, the grim reaper, unintentionally accelerated their imminent demise, stopped me. I could barely look after myself, let alone be responsible for another living thing. I envied those who had successfully cultivated their own inside gardens, but still couldn’t bring myself to try growing my own.

After the turmoil of 2020, a lot has changed. Visiting my friend in her new flat in September was a reality check. Everything, from its strategically-placed wall art, to its *huge* kitchen, screamed: ‘I have my life together.’ And then there were the houseplants. Sitting coyly in their dedicated corners – in the living room, in her bedroom, in any vacant space – they exuded an aesthetic of independence that I craved, having spent most of the year holed up in my childhood bedroom. I was well and truly hit with plant envy for the first time in my life. If I couldn’t yet boast my own abode, I could at least join the rest of my green-fingered generation in feigning independence with foliage. I was ready. It was time to take the plunge into plant parenthood.

We drove to our local B&Q and the choice was overwhelming. There were plants of all sizes, different colours, different leaves – where were you even meant to start? I had brief visions of transforming my room into a jungle. If anything, sadly, my budget stopped me. So, we narrowed them down – the main criterion being low-maintenance plants that I was least likely to kill. Following signs to the display labelled ‘succulents’, we picked the sturdiest looking plants we could find. Back home, I settled them into their own places around my room and from that moment I knew, I was hooked.  

Just a week later, lockdown 2.0 was announced. Faced with the prospect of spending the best part of four weeks in my room again, I suddenly yearned for more plant babies to fill my quarantine bubble. Was I broody? And so, while most people were out panic-buying toilet roll and human-sized bags of pasta, I was panic-buying plants. Ease of care was no longer a consideration. Armed with the two prettiest plants I could find, I headed home to introduce them to their new family. The next day, as I introduced them all by name to my friend over Facetime  – ‘meet Tallulah, Leslie, Frankie, Al…’ – I began to think I might be losing it. But finally, I was beginning to understand the craze.

My plants are giving me something to care for and bringing me a little bit of joy and hope in such an uncertain time. So far – touch wood – they’re thriving. I chose well and have four plants which only seem to get thirsty once every couple of weeks – which is roughly how frequently I remember to check them. For now, though, I’m holding off buying anymore. I know my limits. Maybe this is the beginning of a life-long love affair with plants? Only time will tell.