Fake plants have come a long way over the last few years.
There’s a chance that these words issue from the disturbingly hazy standards of my middle age; but though I must fumble for the 1.75s, I can still recognize a ‘silk’ flower for what it is – an anathema to God and all his angels – and I can still boast of a contemptuous but involuntary reaction to the first three aisles at a craft store.

Just can’t go there…
So that’s where I’m coming from. That, plus decades working with the real things, are my credentials in penning this piece. And yet, I’ve found myself fooled. And now, I’ve become a user.
Taking a Second Look
Last month I was fooled by a phalaenopsis orchid in a Costco of all places, and admittedly I was hopped up on egg nog and good cheer and throwing must-have items in the cart like writing pays well. But I was fooled from 20 feet. Then from ten. Then from five feet.
A pause to fumble for the glasses. At two feet I reached with gloved hands for the slightly underwatered foliage, cleverly evidenced by a slight puckering in the strong waxy leaf.
Strong. Waxy. Proof of life. I shrugged and assumed they’d been segregated from their fellow plants for some unknown marketing reason – displayed near bread and batteries to encourage the spirit of discovery in the midst of the suburban shuffle.
It was the lines on an unopened bud that gave the game away. Nature doesn’t work such miracles through plastic injection systems. But it had me – really had me – for longer than I felt comfortable admitting.
Until the next time.

Yeah, no.
Party Time for Fake Plants
Mid December. A plant friend’s birthday and a new dining room space inspire me to create shock and awe on top of a table, and dammit I want tillandsia. I want lots of tillandsia. Tillandsia I cannot afford. Tillandsia I cannot, as it happens, even find to decide that I cannot afford. Poinsettias and carnations dominate the local floral scene, and I’ve left it way too late for online shopping.
So I’m ruminating about this as I wander the aisles of a craft store where I go to find wooden spoons that will double as plant markers in an edible potted dessert. I find myself in the fake plant aisle. The old familiar feeling of possessing superior taste warms my heart as I contemplate how to create potting soil with Oreos. The irony is not lost on me.

Oreos and white chocolate. Tasted just as good as it looks.
And then suddenly, a temptation from the dark side.
There, in the midst of neon echeveria (why God, why?), and purple spotted haworthia, is a ridiculously good replica of that Terrain air plant darling – Tillandsia xerographica. I pick one up and inspect it carefully, glasses perched on tip of nose, look of scorn at the ready. I can’t deploy it.
It’s good. It’s really good. And next to it, a whole basket of T. ionantha, and several larger-than-life T. velutina that would look really good in my dark basement bathroom, to hell with the party.
So I buy them. There’s the usual 50% off overpriced suburbia merchandise sale, and I’m still hopped up on good cheer, though the egg nog has worn off, and I get them home and dim the lights and throw them on the table along with a million baubles and suddenly think, hmm…maybe I’ll make sure the plant nerd birthday girl who works with these things every day is seated in front of the real one I just pulled out of the kitchen.

The real thing sits next to the fake thing, as the light starts to dim…
Except parties don’t go that way without cute table seating assignments, and that’s a bridge too far on December 18th with seven days till Christmas and a meal for twelve to prepare.
And so, my friend ends up seated directly in front of the fakery. And she is too far away from me at a long table to receive a good-natured aside on the transgression of fake plants and the tricks of a desperate tablescaper. Dinner is consumed and my horticultural sin is surely laid bare.

Will she catch it?
The guests finish their edible potting soil and migrate towards the fire and guitar cases, and my lovely, fêted friend comes to nestle next to me. It’s the first thing on my mind and I guiltily confess.
No need. She thought they were real, and never picked them up to examine more closely. Moreover, she floors me by telling me she’s been thinking about buying some of the larger high-end artificial bromeliads for difficult spots in her own yard. The places the hose won’t reach. The dry places and dreary places that make her weep. The places where a strategically placed bit of unexpected shock and awe in a container might fool the average visitor and add to the quirkiness of an otherwise richly diverse garden.

Reality and illusion are part of most tablescapes – why not good old fashioned fakery?
Her confession reminds me of another – that of a professional container gardener from Philadelphia conducting a class several years ago. He used high-end artificial berry sprays to pepper containers of real evergreen boughs to keep the winter cheer going throughout a cruel season. Up until that point I’d never looked closely enough at the bountiful containers in cityscapes to realize that most were a mixture of nature, talent, and illusion.
You had me at high-end…
So I’m sold. But there is a caveat. Well, a couple actually. Though the orchid fooled me for an egg-nog induced moment, as far as I can tell from browsing the aisles – both suburban and sophisticated – and reading quick-fix articles such as this one from The Spruce, the best fakes are bromeliads – particularly gray-foliaged Tillandsia.

Now to keep it dusted….
They (whoever ‘they’ is) have got that particular family down. And, in a family that contains Guzmania (the plant that tragically spends its entire life looking artificial), I suppose it makes sense – though The Spruce article on fake plants completely leaves them off the table in favor of fiddle leaf figs (yeah, no) and spiny aloe. Succulents run a close second to bromeliads in my estimation, but it only takes another two seconds to realize you’ve been hoodwinked.
The second caveat: plastic waste. And it’s a big one, as I don’t like to encourage the manufacture of yet more layers of non-biodegradable junk heading for the landfill. But in a home that composts, hangs clothes up to dry, buys used and in bulk, combines errands and re-uses potting soil (even eats it on occasion), I feel okay splurging on a few interior decorations that will enhance my current collection of the real thing, and be carefully cared for in the long term. Unlike my friend however, I’m iffy on giving them a summer vacation. We’ll see.
There’s now a large velutina in my dark and dreary guest bathroom. The xerographicas are spending the winter in a birdcage in the dining room (which veils them from harsh sunlight and harsh critics), and a few ionanthas are hanging out in the leaves of the schefflera.
And I can’t wait to fool my next plant person. What do you think?
Things to consider when swallowing pride and choosing fakery:
- Real plants are rarely flawless – aim for asymmetrical and imperfect specimens.
- Container and/or placement is important, as it helps fool the eye. Real terracotta for succulents, tillandsia tethered to a ficus trunk, silk roses in the trash can, etc.
- Foliage plants fool better, as friends tend to notice when your phalaenopsis hasn’t stopped blooming since 2019.
- Dust is a massive give-away. It accentuates the lines formed by molds, and thus draws the critical eye in for a closer view. Real blooms don’t live long enough to accumulate dust. Use a soft paintbrush to remove dust quickly and without the slow-wear brought on by a bath.
- Keep your fakeries out of harsh sunlight – not only does it fade the colors, it highlights the artificiality.
- Dim the lights at dinner. It hides a multitude of sins. Including middle-age. – MW
I fondly remember proudly buying my mother a plastic rose for her birthday in my ignorant childhood. And she no doubt had to proudly display it somewhere for my benefit.
And no doubt had to dust it. Well, dusting plants really is the far end, don’t you think? But you did beat me to this one. I took a pic of a rather gorgeous vase of flowers in a restaurant the other day with a post like this in mind, but I possess no other examples. And rarely dust anything.
Haha! We keep thinking alike on these posts.
A furnished SE London flat Mike and I let years ago was FULLY furnished, down to the silk roses sitting on the tiny kitchen table, and I will never forget them, because the arranger had dripped artful drops of hot glue on the petals to simulate the morning dew. They went up into the loft until the day we moved out. Sadly we couldn’t do the same thing with the wallpaper. – MW
A very dear friend of mine, and gardening mentor, embraced indoor fake plants a decade ago. She asked me if I could please pop in to feed and water cats and plants, as she was heading overseas, and warned me not to water the fake plants. Fake plants? From a master gardener? Her home was an abundant joy of greenery, and it took close inspection with hand and eye to work out the fakery.
OK for inside, but I draw the line at outside use of “imposters”. A quick and easy solution for outside “dead zones” is stonecrop/sedum, we have a small patch on either end of a south-facing peony bed. They bake in the south/southwest sun for 12 hours throughout the summer, right through days long heatwave and typical Kansas dry to drought conditions. When it’s especially brutal, they might get a quick 30 second wetting down once every 2 or 3 weeks. And they *thrive*! And feed every native ground bee and butterfly that happens upon them in the fall!
A terrific suggestion – Thanks DeeCee – MW
Loved this. That is the most beautiful tablescape I have ever seen. Can I borrow the idea? I will probably use your name but not in vain.
I wish I had enough gardening friends to use the edible potting soil idea for dinner.
Will you be one of the garden bloggers coming to Wisconsin this year? My sisters garden was supposed to be on the tour 2 years in a row. No fake plants in her garden yet but if it is postponed another year, who can say for sure?
I see a lot of beautiful cactus and other green plants available at Lowe’s right now….they are ‘decorative’ enough, I think. Air plants would probably also work. Plastic is plastic!
I saw those orchids at my Costco and from afar, I thought they were real, too. But then I realized that they were all blooming exactly the same with the same number of open flowers and buds. (I always look for orchids with more buds than blooms when I buy a real one.) Only then did it click that they were Phalaenopsis plastica… I didn’t buy one but now I’m thinking that Tillandsia plastica would work well in my windowless bathroom!
This was funny! And what a beautiful table setting!
Thank you Jessica! – MW
Loved this. That is the most beautiful tablescape I have ever seen. Can I borrow the idea? I will probably use your name but not in vain.
I wish I had enough gardening friends to use the edible potting soil idea for dinner.
Will you be one of the garden bloggers coming to Wisconsin this year? My sisters garden was supposed to be on the tour 2 years in a row. No fake plants in her garden yet but if it is postponed another year, who can say for sure?
Thank you Vicky. No plans for Wisconsin at the moment — but then plans change daily…..-MW
It is time for you to discover the individually boxed “preserved” roses sold at Lowe’s for $14 each. (With too much foliage remaining. I cut off most of it so it would look more like a regular cut flower.)
The flowers really are beautiful. The greenery looks a little weird. And there’s way too much left on the stem. It looks like if you bought a cheap bouquet you have to clean and arrange yourself. Suppose to be the real thing. Supposed to be enjoyable for up to a year. You will have to dust them with a puff of air occasionally. They come in red, white, yellow, pink and lavender. They are the size of a cheap dozen roses in Walmart. (Visa ?) Not Madame Delbards or Blue Girl by any stretch of the imagination. But pretty all the same.
Now Mom’s single red rose lasts ‘forever’.
“silk roses in the trash can” that had me rolling all over the floor laughing. Thank you. You and Scott are joyous reads.
You always wonder if the asides get caught… thank you Jules. – MW
I saw one of those tricky faux orchids in a medical building atrium recently and it very nearly had me. My husband was with me and completely bowled over that I had to reach into the display to touch it-totally made me question both my gardening chops and my eyeglass prescription.
Thank goodness – vindication! – MW
You lost me at dusting. I don’t bring anything into the house that involves fiddling dusting.
I have been a snowbird in Florida for the past 15 years. The orchids, bromeliad, and tillandsia all survived my “off” seasons without any help from me. BUT, the interior looked dull and the carport which I turned into a patio needed some help. I found artificial heaven at IKEA. 2 small palms sitting atop garden stools brought the “patio” to life. Several times people stopped to ask how I kept them going when I wasn’t there. Yes, they were that good. The interior had some tall grasses. I then boldly used corkscrew rush in floating gardens in my pond here in the North. (idea stolen from a pic of a pond at DIsneyland) No one at garden tours had a clue, until, like you, I felt I had to “confess”. Your tips on choosing the “right” plants are right. Like you, any artificial flowering plant, never looks that good, but there are lots of others that could be sneaked into your home or garden plan and look like they belong. Great article!
Love this post. Your writing continues to draw me in and BAM! I’m laughing and amazed at your beautiful table setting. Kudos.
Your tablescape is astounding! When guests come over to my house for dinner, they may find themselves getting the Fiestaware out of the cabinets and the flatware (definitely not silver) out of the drawer, while I madly try to finish up preparing the meal.
Lately, I’ve found myself looking more closely at fakes, trying to determine if it’s butter or Parkay. I’m usually embarrassed to admit that it’s harder and harder to tell without touching.
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