Don’t forget the flowers, Richard Armitage

John Porter (Richard Armitage) brings flowers to Katie Dartmouth in the hospital after her ordeal, in Strike Back 1.2.

I’m sure Richard Armitage has noticed by now that when a German invites one to visit his or her home, a small host(ess) gift is always appropriate and in some contexts, de rigueur. There’s even a German word for this item: Mitbringsel (a small thing that one brings along — a word that can be used equally for the hostess gift or a souvenir brought back from a trip to a friend who stayed at home). Appropriate are: a small box of nice chocolates, a small bouquet of flowers, or (if for dinner) a bottle of wine. The point is a small, courteous acknowledgement of the host’s hospitality, so it’s not supposed to be extravagant or flashy. This gift also falls in a different category than normal presents, which are usually tailored very closely to the specific personal tastes of the recipient. Initially, I would bring a book along as a Mitbringsel, but on some level, that kind of gift demanded more attention from the recipient than was really appropriate in this setting. Mitbringsel flowers are different, too, than the flowers that one gives for a specific occasion such as a graduation or a promotion, or than the ones given by lovers. They are supposed to be kind without being deeply meaningful.

Pralinés from my favorite chocolatier, but you can only get them in Göttingen.

The custom of the Mitbringsel is discussed in an introductory German language or culture class, where the student is told in the broadest possible brushstrokes never to go empty-handed to a German’s home. This is a generally good rule, particularly if the host is older or socially or hierarchically superior, but it’s typically not necessary with very close friends or at casual meetings among students. As with any entrenched cultural practice, however, there are rules and taste issues the outsider doesn’t know. In practice, Germans are the soul of politeness with their guests, so no one would ever point these things out, but one learns them by hanging out with Germans. Because of the taste issues involved, I never bring wine as a Mitbringsel unless it’s an occasion for sparkling wine / Champagne or I know the host extremely well. The easiest way to go is chocolate, and in fact, most supermarkets and all chocolatiers sell packaged combinations, often tastefully pre-wrapped, for this purpose. Flower stores are everywhere in Germany to facilitate this custom — back when the rules about shop closings were stricter and more uniform than they are now, as recently as twenty years ago, florists were one of few businesses allowed to be open briefly on Sunday mornings, so that flowers purchased could be fresh for visits to cemeteries after church, or for afternoon coffee and cake tables.

This would be an appropriate Mitbringsel if you were invited to Kaffee and Kuchen — on the sedate side, very traditional taste especially appropriate to the older crowd. Typically the guest brings only the flowers, not the vase. You remove the wrapping from the flowers just before ringing the doorbell, so as to great your host with the flowers in hand.

 

As a Mitbringsel goes, flowers are a sort of middle of the road option — they show more thought than chocolate but they are harder to get really wrong than wine. Still, there are rules. For someone whom one does not know well, just as many flowers as one can easily hold in one hand — about the size of a posy, for Americans — in cheerful, warm colors, cut down to a height that will not be obtrusive on a table, and surrounded by leaves and decoration, are the traditional choice. However, an arrangement of predominantly red roses is never appropriate (romantic intentions!), and one should absolutely eschew carnations, which are solely for funerals or mourning. This was something I frequently forgot, as they are a tremendously popular flower in the U.S., in fact, my mother’s favorite. As a custom with a remarkable persistence — it seems like something older people might do, but in fact isn’t really falling off — it is of course always at risk of falling into the realm of petty bourgeois manners (Spießigkeit). If one wants to avoid the retiree aesthetic or be more casual, a handful of tulips — which can easily be found — will always be appropriate, although typically for the Mitbringsel, one wants something that the recipient doesn’t need to arrange immediately. Just picking up a bundle of flowers may signal lack of attention or care on the part of the giver. A tiny arrangement around one striking bloom like a sunflower is a frequent choice these days.

This is the kind of flower Mitbringsel I typically choose, mostly because I like sunflowers.

But because of the frequency of the custom, one is not often put in the position of having to create one’s own original flower Mitbringsel in Germany — florists know about and create little bouquets that are appropriate and speak to different tastes. In general, I’ve found florists to be really helpful in Germany. If you go in and describe the occasion you’re bringing flowers for and the people to whom you are bringing them (including your social context and relationship to them), the florist will tell you what is appropriate and be spot on.

This is a party favor, but without the nametag, it would work really well as a Mitbringsel — combines tradition (pansies are the most grandmotherly flower) with ecological awareness (the flowers are alive) and the perfect personal touch of the ribbon and holder. This would be an A+ gift.

So you’re asking why I am writing all of this about this trivial topic? A fellow fan put me on to this interesting blog about Berlin signage a few weeks ago. The classic signs from previous historical periods are one of the things that make the city cool.

In today’s post, the blogger discusses the cool signage on Berlin’s ubiquitous independent flower stores. I loved this post, although I have one comment, which is that I’m relatively certain that the slash over the “u” is a nostalgic reference to the way the “u” was written in Kurrentschrift, the handwriting used by German professionals from the eighteenth century into the twentieth. The mark was necessary to differentiate “u” from “n” in that alphabet, and in the case of “Blumen” (flowers) it separates the “u” from the “m”. There was a general sentiment in much of Germany after the war that not just the National Socialist era, but also Weimar before it, had been wrong turns, and so the 1950s and early 1960s heralded a brief return to the morals, aesthetics and culture of the late German imperial period in many places — before the uproar eventually caused by the “Generation of ’68.” Signs like these older neon ones would have been seen in their original contexts as classic and stylish at once — their presence is very much an index of the economic miracle years.

In any case, I hope Richard Armitage has bought or sent at least a few bouquets while in Berlin and been invited into a few homes. Germans are truly wonderful, generous hosts.

~ by Servetus on April 18, 2017.