flora and henri on ladys & gents

what a sweet smile! we are loving this little one in our dream baby romper as shown on ladys & gents. with our twice yearly sale happening right now, this is the moment to make this adorable piece yours!

http://www.florahenri.com

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Congrats to Shaynah Dodge!

    We’re always imagining what we can be. From the days of booger picking to the days of retirement portfolio planning, we’re always looking ahead. To fight evil villains, have epic adventures, fly into outer space–we all have something in our heads that we wished wasn’t just in our heads. As adults even, we still imagine the seemingly unattainable. Who hasn’t dreamed of traveling the world,or finding the perfect job, or finding the perfect someone?

    We know that it’s probably impossible to uphold justice in a red leotard when you’re five years old and perhaps it’s also impossible to fly off into the sky on a magical dragon. Maybe it’s also impossible to traverse the entire globe to find your destined soul mate, but at least we’re thinking about it. If we lose our ability to think about what we long for, then are we thinking about anything at all? If we decide to sit in an office all day, is it to just go home and do it all over again the next day or is it for the chance of our dreams materializing before us one of these days?

     When we lose the appetite to fly off into the clouds, then there is nothing stopping us from wanting something as simple as a sunny day or a sugary bowl of ice cream. When we’re not thinking about what we want, our imagination withers away. As loving parents and admirers of the elegance of childhood, we all want our children to reach for the stars and to never settle in their dreams.We want our children to want to be superheroes because after all, we all did at one point too.

    We would like to congratulate and thank Shaynah Dodge on her submission for reminding us that we should never stop dreaming for the impossible—especially when we’re picking our noses.

By Olivia Zech

“Weevia,” 4-year-old Katie looked at me sternly, clutching my legs with her tiny hands, “it’s snowing.”

We were in the vibrant playroom downstairs, which stretched on in a colorful expanse. The Leggos, books, costumes, playhouse and beloved stuffed animals allured even the most levelheaded grown up, including myself.

I was sitting cross-legged and assorting plastic ice cream for her sick baby doll. We decided Baby Maria had a broken arm. A faux stethoscope hung around Katie’s neck, which would be soon forgotten since she was now beckoning for the “snow game” to start. A puffy tutu draped around her as the small doctor batted two wistfully blue eyes.

I gazed up passed Katie’s askew brunette hair to the ceiling. Magically, I saw the same pretend snowfall, and gasped in exhilaration. She giggled at my theatrics. Taking a sudden cue at the same time, we dropped our previous “get well Maria” props and bolted around the room, running in circles around the winter wonderland. I felt the cold sparkling flakes as much as she did, although I was nineteen and had many other “grown up” obscurities in the back of my mind. Snow took precedence in that moment. I forgot my irresolute dating life and the fact I had a ten page paper due in two days. Blissfully and abruptly, I realized how small those things were.

Together we threw our arms up loosely just for the sake of it, and shortly thereafter, one-year-old Nora and five-year-old John collided towards us from the kitchen. They joined our circle celebration with immediate enthusiasm for the marvelous make believe. Outside was a Seattle fall day of rain, but inside the four of us ruled our own snow globe.

“Weevia?” Katie asked me as we all collapsed to the ground. “Yes?”

She marched toward me as Nora waddled to my lap and John got out a new book. “I love you, okay?”

I smiled fuller somehow than I already was.  I understood she said those words because she felt them, not because she expected anything in return. She kept on marching on to grab something new and I quickly called back to her, “I love you too, Katie!” The taffeta bounced as she started flying again, jumping in the buckets of powdery white.

In the happy time I babysat this vivacious group, we gave each other wisdom and were the best of friends. Perhaps the greatest lesson I took from them is that all the play and imagination in the universe, like a pretend snowfall, is not limited to kids, but belongs in each and every one of us. Our childhoods are never forgotten, but are, in a way, preserved passed on, even through something as joyously simple as a tutu.

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*flora and henri racing tutu

http://www.florahenri.com

The Spring Photo Contest Is Here!

Submit a digital image of your kid(s) wearing flora and henri along with the story behind the photo.

Send your pictures and stories to info@florahenri.com by June 1st. Winners will be notified privately before our public announcement.

*all photos and story submissions become the property of flora and henri. flora and henri reserves the right to use all of the images submitted through this contest.

Happy capturing!

http://www.florahenri.com

By Olivia Zech

Everyone thought my younger sister was going to be a boy. Even my mother, with her reassuring grin, broke the unfortunate premonition to me. I was six-years-old and needed to have a sister. My brother was my archenemy. A terror. He jumped on my dollhouse, demanded to be called “Batman,” and made fun of my treasured hours of “alone time” while I played with my teeny tiny PLAYMOBIL.

I needed a sister. A confidante. Someone who could also understand the faraway places I imagined. Someone who could do ballet with me, and also color without spitting, spilling, pulling, shoving, bullying, yelling and howling like a wolf.

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 Oh no, a boy wouldn’t do.

 When Ava was born a girl, I exclaimed to everyone triumphantly,

“I was right!”

I then deemed her my best friend. Richie, despite the sly villain in him, was still my first very best friend. Even puffy Ava with her buttery baby skin couldn’t snag his original title.

 She had this dark curly mop on her head and cried nonstop like an agitated lamb. As she got a bit older and had a sure ten strands of hair on her head, I bounded over and tried to give her a ponytail. My moment of girl-bonding had finally come! Brash Ava, wobbly with her chubby legs and heavy hat of hair, started crying ferociously at the pink comb. The more I tried to smooth down her spun-out ringlets, the more she aggressively waddled away. She clamored for windowsill ledges and screeched for Richie, her sudden alliance. My mouth dropped open. Big crocodile tears streamed down her face as I reacted confused. How could this be? Shouldn’t she want her hair done? Where was my girl sister?

That was our first fight. To this day, even though I’m twenty-one now, it still was probably our worst.

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 The thing was, Ava was not girly. When she was old enough to get her ears pierced, she promptly wedged in these two spiked balls that were multicolored and funky. Compared to my faux simple diamonds, I was yet again confused. Then, when she told me she didn’t want to do ballet, I was plain dumbfounded. In time I had to let all of it go:  She was a hot tamale and I was a cream puff.  Ava with her curly dark hair, raspy voice, and vivacious attitude was simply pepper, and I, pale and ever-twirling, was sugar. My mom, coaxing and wise as always, nudged me to a profound lesson of being the eldest: Everyone is their own person. And, as Oscar Wilde said,

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

The world needed a young girl to strut those spiky earrings, and Ava was the perfect chosen one.

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We all seemed to permanently be in our own specific outfits growing up. With a wink of an eye from my mother, she shopped at Flora & Henri blissfully for each of us. Ava was heartily inclined to her bikini, like the new belted two piece swimsuit. She was also always wearing rain boots. (Mixing the seasons was never a concern.) I, on the other hand, was always in something like today’s puff sleeve party dress, whether the occasion was merited or not. Richie was perpetually shirtless and refused to wear anything but the original beach pant. He probably went through three pairs.

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Though we are all so different to this day, Flora & Henri dressed us all. The tomboy, daredevil and princess were ready each morning with something separately bright to offer. What we wore made us feel more like ourselves, because we were in love with everything we had on. The clothes were made for us, sugar and pepper alike.

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We love Petit à Petit!

Thank you so much to Petit à Petit for the feature blog post! We are so grateful for your recognition, and absolutely treasure your creativity and style.

View here: Window Shopping at FLORA and HENRI

“discover the wonderful world of children’s design… at its best.” – May 7, 2013; Petit à Petit

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By Olivia Zech

When I was five-years-old or so Estelle taught me how to read Frog and Toad. Although disappointed the fictitious creatures weren’t particularly feminine, the amphibians opened up tremendous adventure for our giggling personalities. We were sitting in the back seat of my mother’s car, and Estelle was flipping the pages for me with eloquent direction for sounding out big words; she was patient. I held the book with grown up determination, observing Toad’s full-bodied swimsuit and puffy belly.

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We were both blondish and sure with an effortless cross between princess and bohemian. Together our smiles were toothy and big. We laughed at absolutely everything. Perhaps Estelle was more bohemian than I with her profound lust for adventure and consistent boldness. On the other hand, I believed firmly I had to turn into a mermaid at some point or another. I was also okay with eventually winding up at the Beast’s castle (of Beauty and the Beast), where I could roam dramatically in gowns held captive with Mrs. Pots and Lumiere.

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We made an excellent duo, Estelle and I. Every room in her house was a different stage for us, from the living room to the kitchen to the play set outside. We were always performing – always creating, making things and running. Never walking. We had too many necessary things to do. To this day we are remarkably and hopelessly loud. She’s still bold and I still wear dresses as often as weather permits. (Sometimes I wear them anyway to silently rebel against the cold.) We are a festivity when combined together with our blondish hair and now straighter teeth. Reunions are simply joyous.

Estelle is the daughter of Jane, who is the original carrier of the same eloquence Estelle has. It’s an innate quality I’m not sure either are aware of. Jane’s gorgeous vision of Flora & Henri entered my own wide-eyed world just a few years after Frog and Toad. One day I found myself prancing in front of a photographer in an angelic dress called “The Olivia Slip”. The name of the piece itself put me promptly into character. I was fluttering about to and fro with an undeniable love for dancing and the outfit itself. I was a mermaid that day.

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My strict ballerina training translated immediately into the photo shoot, so I forgot the photographer was there at once and twirled like there was no tomorrow. Now as I look at this picture, I think of how little I was. On the contrary, I always felt very grown up even when I was young, and remember critiquing my un-pointed feet when the magazine first came out. But, like all of Flora & Henri’s images, it’s timeless in an untouchable way. Each one is uniquely special as the design and careful artistry speak for itself. My mother framed it immediately to be hung as a landmark for exactly who I was in that certain blip of time.

Estelle’s exploratory side is evident in essentially every image of her. You can’t help but fall in love with her fiery presence. This one here, with the vintage camera, is my favorite. The “I don’t care what you say” expression combined with the “look out world” stance is so very Estelle compared to my frolicking.

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We were next door neighbors for years, weaving between each other’s houses and learning everything around as we strutted side by side. Now, as we’re both in our young twenties and still running, it’s lovely to not only have our friendship captured in Flora & Henri, but our childhood. Like Frog and Toad, we are bound with something supremely curious. We see ourselves in the young ones wearing Flora & Henri today. The clothing dressed us perfectly for every occasion of our laughter then, and our laughter yet to come. Maybe that was Jane’s masterfully sweet plan all along.

dress it up!

our new collection of beautiful silk dresses are perfect for all of your holiday festivities, outings and parties!

angel dress

a sublime new dress for all your holiday needs! this delicate and elegant design is made from 100% silk satin. printed in a charming blue check with tangerine and golden flower accents, it features the sweetest flowing angel sleeves, self fabric belt, back neckline ‘v’, and a-line skirt.

pinstripe silk party dress

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made with 100% fine italian silk, fully lined with belt detail and peter pan collar. the delicate gold hook belt closure adds a special touch.

baby pinstripe silk dress

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and of course, our fancy dress is available again this holiday season!

silk organza dress with lace details and cotton/poly lining. custom made in spain

order here now and get them in time for the holidays!!

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cubebots big and small!

thank you to all our customers who joined us in NYC this month for our fall/winter trunk show to benefit the Hurricane Sandy Red Cross Relief fund!! here are a few of our favorite pictures from the event!

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limited edition jess brown doll visits manhattan!!

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beautiful “or” jewelry!

we are looking forward to seeing all of our wonderful NYC customers at our next trunk show in the spring!

support flora and henri and small businesses everywhere by shopping today in honor of small business satuday! today only enjoy 10% off all merchandise as well as FREE shipping on orders over $250!! start shopping here!!

simply enter the code “EXTRA10” in the comment box at checkout and the discount will be applied to your order internally AFTER your order is placed online.

falling the day after black friday and the first saturday after thanksgiving, small business saturday began two years ago to celebrate small retail shops and to encourage shoppers to buy from boutique merchants in the United States. there are more than 200 companies and organizations that have joined the local business unit of American Express, OPEN. last year, over 100 million people participated in small business saturdaymaking shopping small BIG!

for more information on small business saturday, and to support small businesses across the country, click here!