Flowers, though quiet, have a lot to say. For instance: I’m sorry. I like you. And, at prom: You’re mine.
The tradition, one tradition has it, dates back to the damsel who ripped a swatch from her gown and pressed it into the armored fingers of her departing knight. HE WAS HERS.
Now she wears a corsage, which means bodice, though it snaps around the wrist. He wears a boutonniere, which means buttonhole, though it’s generally secured with a pin. Let’s hope there’s no teen so prickly that the archaic, inaccurate lingo sullies prom.
Plus the matchy thing is kinda cute, once. The young romantic might choose a single rosebud, or – more fancifully – a pinwheel, feather or origami contraption. HE might EVEN consider a fried artichoke, which is, after all, a pale green blossom. It’s all heart. And tastier than rose, pinwheel, feather or paper.